Mama was a Preacher Chapter Fourteen A of A/B/C Over the rainbow. Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved.
The next several years were turbulent.
Our ambitious goals forced a level of maturity on everyone as they assumed rolls of leadership.
Dr. Jules Gros responded to our apology with vitriolic rhetoric. His letter arrived at our home via registered mail. In it he claimed we were not an instrument of the devil, but the devil himself. He raved on for four type written pages, concluding that if I ever made the mistake of again mentioning
him or the Los Angeles Council of Churches he would seek redress in the courts. He went further to say that he had been in contact with the Christian
coalition in Virginia Beach, and they shared his opinion.
Several things, worthy of mentioning, occurred as a result of that last broadcast on KPFK.
Resources came pouring in. Logistics Research, a small computer company in Redondo Beach, California donated three automatic typewriters which could operate from punched paper tape. With these machines every contributor would receive a personal typed "Thank you." As I byproduct we could create a mechanized mailing list.
A small horse ranch just north of Malibu was presented to the Research Foundation. We put Phil in charge of guest relations. With the aid of the automatic typewriters Robbie was able to get most of the people on rabbi Solomon's list to serve on the board of directors. The letter stated the goals of the Research Foundation, and outlined how those goals were to be achieved. At the end of the document was a simple statement that required only the designators signature either in agreement (accepting), or disagreement. Abstaining had not been one of the choices. The letter made it
clear that becoming a member of the board of directors would require no effort on their part. Additionally, acceptance would increase their professional standing by being associated with both our goals and the stature of the other members of the board. It was a shrewdly prepared document with more than 85 percent of the recipients returning the signed agreement.
The Cohens fell in love with Timmy and Tommy and had adopted the tykes within the year. Sid had searched for their mother, all in vain. It was like she had dropped off of the surface of the earth. He found that the police presence at the trailer park had been in response to a complaint from the owner of the trailer.
Sid's opinion of Robbie changed radically after that demonstration of performing. Add to that the boy's accomplishment in setting up the Research Foundation, and all Sid could think about was how good of a Lawyer the boy would make.
I suspected that Sid had visions of his boy standing in front of a jury mesmerizing his audience with his powers of speech.
On the negative side, Reverend Raymond Gregory who headed the Revival Hour radio ministry passed away, and his wife joined forces with mama to run the broadcast organization. Neither of them had the necessary drive, so they closed up shop and moved to Crabtree, Arkansas to continue the work mama had abandoned 16 years earlier.
A letter from mama arrived after Ray had been buried. She asked if I would be interested in returning to Little Rock to replace Ray. While the idea of taking over a ready made radio network of almost one hundred stations appealed to me, it really was "no contest" as our Teen mission was too important to me. My roots were firmly placed in southern California.
In an attempt to persuade me, she mentioned that the Revival Hour had assets of more than three million dollars. Once she understood that I would not be swayed she told me that she and Ruth intended to spend part of the money to build a new church in Crabtree.
While both the church and the Research Foundation enjoyed lofty goals, the Teen Missions objectives were not as readily accepted.
We were hard pressed to find the funds which would enable us to help these kids. The rest of the world saw them as human garbage not worthy of a helping hand. They were not only whores, they were worse. They were queer whores.
With the help of Judge Thompson we sought help from both private and governmental sources. The private charities simply said their plate was already full. The government sources were constantly bogged down by red tape.
Things were getting desperate. Ho and Sunshine decided to conduct a direct mail campaign. The first target were the remember of our own church.
We owned the machines, but postage wasn't free. We took up a collection from our own inner circle: Cowboy, Jew Boy, Sunshine, Ho, Stack, David, Todd, and even little Philip. The gleanings were not much, but it did enable us to send five hundred letters.
The response enabled us to purchase two mailing lists. Sunshine had reasoned that the two most compassionate professional groups would be Doctors, and Lawyers in private practice. These people had chosen their professions to be of service to their fellow man, and had undergone a great deal of deprivation in order to achieve their personal goals.
Because of the hard work of all, gifts did come in directed to the mission. But a totally anonymous gift arrived in the form of a three year, paid in advance, lease on a large house in our own neighborhood. It was on the next street over, parallel to our own. The back fence of our property was also the back fence of the new acquisition.
I was approaching my 26th birthday. My daily routines had become more of those of an administrator.
Philip, who was now approaching twenty had taken well to the task we had given him of running the Decker Canyon horse ranch.
The gift had been to the Research Foundation, and we used the place as a "Think Tank" when any of that staff needed to work without interruption.
The property sat on four acres of land, with stables, and a small swimming pool.
The location was almost thirty miles from West Hollywood, and about twenty miles north of Santa Monica off of Highway 1. Decker Canyon road, a small paved street, turned east and twisted upward for another five miles before reaching the ranch.
Water was from a well, power and telephone were available. However, the telephone service was rural. There were 8 parties who shared a single telephone line.
The separation of our three functions had unexpected consequences.
Sunshine, as assistant pastor, conducted most church services, with an occasional relief from me. His sexuality lay somewhere between heterosexuality, and bisexuality. While he seemed to have a thorough understanding of both sides of the fence, he rarely practiced either.
Originally, our congregation was composed of boy whores. Soon their customers became part of our group. Now under Sunshine's leadership the scope was broadening. No longer was the audience primarily from the gay community. But even within that contingent it too was changing with the presence of more and more lesbians and other feminist oriented people.
As the focus broadened, as the mixture expanded, we were becoming more like other churches.
I began to see what had happened with Angelus Temple. It had been started by a "Hell Fire and Brimstone" charismatic preacher. The organization, as it grew, reflected her personality, and her goals. When she died, and her son replaced her as the head of the church, the charisma was gone. The doctrine had shifted from left of Pentecostalism to just slightly left of center. In other words, within the Christian community they had become respectable.
Philip had complained that all too often he was the only one at the ranch. Taking care of the live stock was not a full time task, so Jerry and I began spending several mid week days with him. We three would strip down to cutoff jeans, and labor under the hot sun. Watching both men sweat as we forked hay, or mended fences was exhilarating.
At first we tired quickly, and burned easily. Within a couple of weeks we had browned, and could toil throughout the entire day. The physical exercise seemed to stimulate the mind as well. We found ourselves debating philosophical points.
Then at night the three of us would sleep together. Philip never tired of playing host. I doubt if any of us considered our horseplay to be innocent. Wrestling in the pool after a hard day's work always turned lustful. It seemed that they would join in an effort to get me aroused.
Cowboy (Jerry), and I had adhered to our vow of being in bed by midnight. The sexual side of our relationship had never been better. Yet these mid week breaks at the ranch added a spice that seasoned the dish to perfection.
Phil had a talent for never being the third wheel. He merged into our relationship while we were there. When we were in town the only telephone calls we got were about administrative things.
On weekends Robbie would take the twins to the ranch for a day's horse back riding.
The boys, now close to 15, had developed into handsome lads. Their rearing had been closely supervised, and guided by their adoptive family. Still in an adolescent growth spurt, their long black hair seemed proper for their height. Neither had been touched by that teenage affliction Acne. Everything was in proportion. They had learned to ride well. Their seat had been well practiced whether in a canter or cross country. It was difficult to tell if the horse followed the rhythm of the rider, or the other way around.
The youngsters intentionally dressed alike, taking pleasure in the confusion they created for those who did not know them well. Tommy was the most outgoing. He proudly was the eldest; by about fifteen minutes. Timmy had always relied on the protection of his brother. I remembered that first time when I had seen them at the church; it had been Tommy who had watched us like a mother lion. Now that they had grown older, it was Timmy who exercised caution, always thought things through, and counseled his older brother toward thinking before acting.
A call from Philip had brought me to the ranch on a Friday afternoon.
There was no one there when I arrived. A note on the kitchen table told me he had gone to a hardware store in Santa Monica.
For a moment I was tempted to take a quick swim. Skinny dipping was the usual practice. A noise from the large tree that sat close to the barn drew my attention. A small kitten seemed to be trapped, and was meowing in increasing panic.
Abandoning my contemplated swim, I climbed the tree. Then in a display of total contempt the little beast leaped to the ground leaving me high in the tree.
As I sat in the branches I saw one of the twins ride toward and then into the barn. Shortly the boy walked over to the wall which protected the swimming pool from view.
I could feel a warm California breeze gently blowing, as the lad started to pull off his boots.
He turned toward me, and for a moment I thought my presence had been detected. I sat very still not wanting to be discovered. However, he seemed to be admiring the setting sun. He removed his shirt, exposing a well defined chest, then his socks and trousers. He took a cushion from one of the lounges and lay it flat upon the decking. The bright orange of the sunset gave a shinning glimmer to his long dark hair.
The sun was on a rapid descent. Looking around to make certain he was not being observed he took off his underwear and jumped into the pool.
"Ahhh!" he yelled as the cold water hit his body. He rapidly pulled himself free of the deep end of the pool and returned to the pad. As he laid down his hands started to explore the tight muscles of his chest, arms and thighs.
As a voyeur, I found myself intrigued, watching his hand moving towards his crotch. His flaccid member began to reach upward toward the first stars of the evening.
Very slowly his body relaxed as he lay back on the pad and stroked his youthful cock.
We appeared to be completely alone in the wilderness; the smell of the trees, the sounds of all the animals, the clear air. Still stroking his cock, we heard the sound of another horse riding into the yard.
Quickly he pulled on his jeans. The moisture on his body created dark spots as the water was soaked up by the cloth.
I looked toward the source of the disruptive sound. A black horse came into view. It's rider was a woman in her late twenties. Quite handsome. Her horsemanship was apparent. "Timmy! Tommy! Anyone here?"
The twin came through the gate. "Hi Mrs. Johansen." The boy continued toward the rider.
"Mind if I water Silver Coin?" she asked referring to her horse.
"Of course not. Just help yourself."
"We haven't seen much of you boys in the last month. School got you mired down?" She tossed her long blonde hair as though it were loose around her ears instead of tied in a pony tail.
"How about something for yourself?"
"A cold beer would be nice." As she dismounted, her jeans hugged her body. She followed her host into the secluded pool area. "OK, I give up which one are you?"
"Tommy. Tim and Robbie drove down to Malibu for some groceries."
He disappeared momentarily into the house returning with two bottles of Millers. He handed one to his guest.
The dark spots on his jeans were evidence of his swimming. She thanked the boy for the beer, tapped his bottle with her own and toasted, "To the pleasures brought to us by a long hot day."
Even though the sun had sunk below the hills, and the first stars began to twinkle there was enough light to clearly see the two as they stood facing each other next to the pool.
She extended her other hand toward the lad, pointing to the wet spots. "Did I interrupt your swimming?" Her finger touched one of the dark circles on his hip.
The reaction was instantaneous. The boys cock jumped to full attention. It had been laying flat against his left leg. Now it created a conspicuous tent.
Embarrassed, he turned and "accidentally" fell into the pool. Water splashed up soaking Mrs. Johansen. Her already tight jeans left little to the imagination. The lady was obviously wearing no underwear. The outline of the lips of her vagina were clearly visible.
She reached over to pull Tommy out of the water. Her reach over extended and upset her balance. She, too, fell into the water. They began to laugh like a couple of kids.
Tommy had used the cover of water and activity to reposition his penis so that it now lay vertically, pointing upward toward his naval.
They both climbed out of the pool. The repositioning had only repositioned, it did not hide anything.
The lady's eyes were glued on the throbbing penis. She moved toward Tommy, put her arms around him, and kissed him fully and deeply upon the mouth.
Her hands moved down till they were firmly on his buttocks, pulling him into full contact with her body. Only two layers of wet jean cloth separated cock and vagina.
I almost fell out of the tree as I watched this on going seduction.
It was then that I heard the sound of Robbie's Healey turn off of Decker Canyon Road.
Without another word Mrs. Johansen turned, and sprinted for her horse. In a unlady like leap she mounted her animal riding across the field.
Tommy wrapped a towel around himself, jeans and all, then proceeded into the house while the Healey came to a stop in the front yard.
No one was around to observe the voyeur's descent from the tree.
Robbie opened the front door while Timmy carried two arm loads full of groceries. I hadn't seen the twins in several weeks. The boy had cut his hair; almost a military style; short, no side burns. There would be no difficulty distinguishing between the two.
Timmy noticed his brother carrying the two empty beer bottles. It was then that he noticed me, and must have presumed that the second bottle was mine. Tommy said, "Janet's mother stopped by to water Silver Coin."
"Yeah, I thought I saw the horse. Too bad Janet doesn't take after her mother, she's a real snob, but her mom is the coolest."
Inwardly I smiled to myself, "Yeah cool and hot!"
I asked, "Does anyone know what Phil wanted me for?"
Tommy hadn't seen me before, and suddenly was nervous. "I'm not sure, but someone up the road is moving. I know they asked if they donated their two horses to us if it would be tax deductible."
Robbie answered before I could open my mouth; in the affirmative.
It was getting late. Phil had not returned. I needed to head back to Hollywood. I had agreed to give Sunday's sermon.
Robbie said that he too needed to get back, but the twins, almost in chorus, asked if they could spend the weekend at the ranch.
Robbie went into the office to check the guest calendar. It didn't look like anyone was scheduled, but he said, "It's up to Phil, and he's not here."
Tommy's eagerness made me wonder if he was hoping for another encounter with Mrs. Johansen. I added my two cents worth, "Let the kids stay. If Phil has a problem, then he can call me and Jerry or I will come back and pick them up."
The long haired twin gave me the kind of smile that warms the heart.
The boys turned, ran to the barn, and within moments were riding bareback into the darkening evening in the direction Silver Coin had taken.
Laughingly Robbie commented, "Those kids know how to get their way."
"Yeah, but what's with the hair cut?"
"I don't know. Yesterday when they came home Timmy's hair was cut. I asked them why, and all I got was a smirk and a comment saying that a girl he wanted to take out liked it short."
We got into our cars and headed down Decker Canyon Road towards Pacific Coast Highway. As we reached that intersection we saw Phil's station wagon turn on to the winding road. We were stopped at the stop sign. He paused and apologized for being late.
Phil still needed to talk to me, so Robbie went home, and I returned to the Ranch.
The matter of the gift horses was one of his concerns, and both Robbie and my agreement to accept the gift settled that. Of still another concern was the twins. They had become the most constant guests as though the ranch belonged to the Cohens instead of the foundation.
Phil liked the boys, and enjoyed their company. But Phil was gay, and the boys knew it. He was concerned about a possible rift between the foundation, Robbie, Sid, and me.
I asked him if either of the twins had shown a sexual interest in him. He laughed, shaking his head "No," then added that he had seen the two in the loft of the barn jerking off.
I contemplated telling him about the scene I had witnessed between Tommy and Mrs. Johansen, but decided not to. That would be my secret.
It was past eight o'clock by the time I pulled the MG into our driveway.
Jerry (Cowboy), and Sunshine were in my study. I heard them moving around in the basement, and went down to see who was there.
"Glad you're back, we got a telephone call from some guy who wants to donate some TV time. He said his company had contracted with a TV station to do a half hour program once a week for 13 weeks, but at the last minute the big boss had reversed their decision. If they donated the contract to us they could take it as a charitable contribution instead of a total loss. Here's the guys home number."
Jerry turned to me and asked if I'd had dinner. I shook my head "No."
"Neither have we. Want to go to Michele's for Lasagna?"
"Yes. But let me call this guy first."
I hadn't made up my mind whether or not to accept the offer. It was an excellent opportunity to expand our ministry, but if I did it, it must be a separate organization. It should not be tied to our church, the foundation, or the mission.
Michele's, which is just a block west of the Don Martin School was one of my favorites. The atmosphere was always warm, almost like a winter Christmas.
The ever present red checkered table cloths, the candles, and hanging Chianti bottles were a delight to the eye. The feeling was coziness.
I had often wondered if the heavyset Italian woman who seated us owned the restaurant. She had always been in attendance throughout the years that we had enjoyed their hospitality.
This night she seated us at a table on the far right end of the room. As a matter of routine she handed us the never changing menu. We knew what we wanted. She returned with a bottle of the raffia bound Chianti. After extracting the cork she left the bottle on the table, leaving the pouring to us.
Their hot rolls were always a taste treat. The bread basket was never empty. It took will power to leave room for our entree.
We discussed the television offer. Both Cowboy and Sunshine had experienced our radio ministry and the tent revival encounters with "the Thing". Even though we seemed to agree that we should take advantage of this opportunity it was, in the end, to be my decision.
I asked Sunshine if he would let me off the hook for Sunday's services. I wanted to spend the weekend at the ranch with Jerry, creating a plan. The only hitch in the offer was that time was of the essence. The first broadcast
was scheduled for a week from Sunday. If I was to do it we must tape the program next Friday ... a week from today.
Even though it was past 11:00 o'clock when we got home, I telephoned Phil and told him Jerry and I would spend the weekend with him. He asked if he should send the twins home. I told him "No." They had become a refreshing presence. It was like watching a garden whose flowers were just beginning to blossom.
That night Jerry and I were attentive to each other. Our loving was expressed
in a closeness and sharing of spirit. We cuddled, and kissed, hugged, and fondled. We slept without sexual exercise.
My mind must have been very busy that night, because when I awoke I had an entirely new prospective from which to mount this project.
The 60's were a turbulent time. There was great unrest in the world. The USSR had been a knife at our throats. The Cubans were a constant threat. Civil rights were a new awakening. JFK had been assassinated, then his brother Robert. Vietnam was splitting our nation apart.
I felt that the last thing people needed was "Hell Fire and Brimstone" preaching. The new ministry must bring peace and quiet, reachable goals, and solidification.
Just before we left for the Ranch I called Robbie telling him that we needed to create a new, tax exempt, organization, and that we needed to do it immediately. He said he would work on it and then meet with us at the Ranch on Sunday afternoon. He was planning on picking up the twins at that time.
When we reached the ranch Philip and the twins were in the pool. The boys were wearing their jeans while Philip was naked. Jerry asked why they were wearing their jeans in the pool. Tommy laughed and said he wanted them to shrink for a better fit. I snickered and told him if they got any tighter his voice would go up an octave.
Lunch was sandwiches and milk, after which the twins mounted their horses and disappeared into the hills.
Cowboy, Philip, and I sat by the pool, while I used them as a sounding board for my thoughts. Cowboy's thoughts had gone beyond mine. He suggested that we use contributions solicited by the Television Broadcast to buy time in other markets. We would then use our earlier tapes in the new markets. Doing this we could expand the ministry at a doubling or tripling rate. The first week would be just the Los Angeles area. The second week would target San Diego and San Francisco. The third week might add Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, and Las Vegas.
While Cowboy's thoughts were sound, I needed to apply myself to what we were going to broadcast, not how.
I had closeted myself in one of the spare bedrooms, creating outlines, and using the concordance reference Bible that Sid had given me. The sun had already sunk behind the mountains. I heard the boys return, tying their mounts to a fence.
Phil knocked at the door telling me dinner would be ready shortly.
I marked my place in the concordance, and joined the others in the kitchen. Phil was asking Tommy why they hadn't seen the horses to their stalls. The boy replied that they wanted to ride up into the hills and try to pick out constellations in the night sky.
At my request, dinner had been simple and light. A small salad, chicken, and no dessert. However, Phil had made Tapioca to satisfy the twins sweet tooth.
I returned to my work. The window at which I sat had a clear view of the barn, and I saw the twins galloping up into the hills.
Cowboy's vision of an expanding ministry kept crowding out other thoughts. It was difficult to apply myself to the kernel of my message.
It was close to ten o'clock when the boys returned. Tommy took both horses into the barn, while Timmy came into the house announcing that he was going to sleep next to the pool and Tommy was going to sleep in the barn.
My love tapped at the door, and asked if I was coming to bed. When I shook my head no, he asked if he should sleep with Philip or in one of the other bedrooms. I stood up, took him into my arms, and whispered that I probably wouldn't be in bed till very late; he should double up with Philip. Hopefully I would join them.
I had turned the light off, sitting in my chair, meditating. I would consciously bring my mind to a pleasant but unimportant thought allowing it to drift off, encountering concerns. When solutions to those concerns were completed, I would then start the process over. It had been a good technique for solving problems and forming both goals, and paths to those goals.
It was after eleven thirty when I saw Tommy quietly lead his horse out of the barn. Once a hundred yards or so away, he mounted and rode off into the darkness. A half hour later he was back, but not alone. Mrs. Johansen was seated behind him, her arms around his waist. At the same point he had mounted, they dismounted and silently led the horse into the barn.
A half hour later I saw the tall, slim figure with its long dark hair, come out of the barn, wearing only his jeans. His feet were bare as was his chest. He disappeared into the house. Ten minutes later he reappeared, and went back into the barn.
Another half hour passed. Again the boy returned to the house for a minute or two before returning to the barn.
It was more than an hour when again the lad returned to the house. It was as though he needed to use the bath room every hour or so.
This routine continued through out the night until the first signs of day break. Then the two riders again mounted Tommy's horse and rode toward the Johansen ranch.
It wasn't long until the lone rider returned to the barn. Then everything was silent.
I couldn't believe the stamina of young Tommy.
I laid down on the bed next to my desk and dozed for awhile. I heard sounds coming from the bathroom. It was still early. As I walked past the bathroom I noticed the door was ajar. A reflection off of the bathroom mirror showed me the twins, both with short hair, both with love bites on the left side of their necks. Laying next to the sink was a long haired wig. No wonder they had cropped their hair so short
I wondered how many others had been fooled into thinking one was the other.
This would be another secret. I wouldn't even share this with Cowboy.
"The New Day Ministry" would appear late Sunday nights. Robbie negotiated with the Television station to throw in 5 promotional spots in between their Sunday Morning programs. Those Sunday morning hours carried live services from several churches in the Los Angeles area.
The promotional spots were slides and audio.
Early Tuesday morning we drove to the top of Mount Hollywood, just above the world renowned "H O L L Y W O O D" sign. Los Angeles first Television station is located there. Photography was still one of Peter Hay's hobbies. We shot two rolls of film as the sun lifted into the Hollywood sky. The best shot was one of me in close up, from the ground, with the transmitting tower shooting up behind me. The sky was a clear blue. A few cumulus clouds were gold, and something at the top of the tower had caught the sun creating a silver sparkle that radiated in all directions.
Peter had used a very fast film, stopped way down so that the depth of field was almost infinity.
For the music we dug back a long way. We found the tape we had made many years before with Jerry and my youthful voices joined singing, "All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful: the Lord God made them all." The joy that we had felt was again being fully expressed. "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."
Superimposed over the slide and the music was the invitation to join the "New Day Ministry" at 11:30 that same night.
Putting together a half hour telecast is a big, time consuming task. We had neither the time nor the resources to produce what we needed. That first show would require a miracle to be what we wanted it to be.
Tuesday mid morning our gang trouped into the managers office of KTLA on Sunset Blvd. The entrance was inside of the Paramount Motion Picture Studio gates. Jerry had made the appointment on Monday morning. The assignment of the Television contract to us was news to the station. But, by Monday afternoon the assignment had been confirmed.
Cowboy, Jew boy, Stack, The Boss, and I squeezed into the managers small, over crowded office. Arranging the change in production requirements appeared to be a major stumbling block until Robbie called Sid, who in turn telephoned Paramount's chairman of the board. Orders from the head of Paramount drenched the manager with his need to be cooperative.
Doing a studio production on a closed Hollywood sound stage was not what I had in mind. We knew that the source of our "miracle" would be working with a live audience.
Only one of Paramount's sound stages had been allocated for use by the Television Station. Like most sound stages it had a large, garage type set of doors at one end. The stage was too small for an audience, but if the doors were open we could seat our audience outside beyond the doors.
Getting an audience together on short notice was assigned to Sunshine. He needed to telephone everyone he knew from the congregation. Then I telephoned the manager at KPFK asking them to broadcast promotional spots inviting radio listeners to come to Paramount Studios on Friday evening for an evening of inspirational singing.
Friday afternoon the core of our group arrived at the Paramount gates, warning security that we hoped for a large audience.
Sunshine, Todd and Peter had been working together with the stations engineering department setting up a riser for the pulpit. Microphones were setup at the piano, and at strategic spots in front of the singers. We wanted audience mikes, but the station balked at putting their microphones out of door. We supplied those microphones.
Lighting was another problem that I had never encountered. The cameras were pretty insensitive. Massive amounts of light came from numerous spots and floods hanging from the ceiling.
It was still three hours before "show time", as the lighting staff attempted to get a sense of what we were trying to do. Everything was hectic and noisy. Even with the big doors open the studio seemed incapable of removing the heat generated by the lights.
At six o'clock the first of the audience began to trickle through the front gate. Paramount had placed five rows of folding chairs just outside the doors. Within 15 minutes those seats were occupied and the station staff began scrounging chairs from every possible place, till the entire area was full of chairs of every type. But still it wasn't enough.
Without being asked to, the twins had begun showing people were to sit or stand.
The lighting director had found additional floods which he placed to light the audience. Suddenly everything went dark. The extra load had blown out the circuit breakers for the studio. Hurriedly they located a portable lighting board which they wired into an adjacent sound stage.
Cameramen were unexpectedly asked to try shots of the outside audience.
There had not been time for any rehearsal. Jackie went to the control booth to try to convey some sense or outline to the Technical Director. However, he was needed at the piano, so Sunshine replaced him in the booth with instructions to try and second guess what was going to happen next so that the director could get cameras in place, and the correct microphones turned on.
The stations chief engineer, Claus Lansberg, arrived amongst the hubbub bring an air of calm with him; he took control of his people, then of ours.
Everyone had been pushing "being on the air", at 7:30 as though it were live instead of being on tape. Claus suggested we do a run though on some of our songs in order to get better sound levels. In reality it was simply calming us down.
At 8:00 the "On the Air" sign flashed on, and the show was underway.
Miraculously, from the hubbub and disorganization our program projected an image of control, peace, and comfort.
After taping was complete, Claus came out into the studio and quietly suggested that next week we come early enough to do a proper rehearsal. The stage would be ours for the entire day.
I had not been aware of it, but Jackie had asked the station to make an audio tape of the telecast. It was given to him when we left the studio.
It was Peter who had discovered another error growing out of inexperience. He had asked the station what it would cost for copies of the video tape. It was then that we learned that we would have to purchase the existing tape. The practice was to reuse tapes. The cost of a 2500 foot reel of 2 inch video tape was almost two hundred dollars. And that we needed to come up with immediately.
Each of the organizations: the church, the mission, the foundation all had funds, but the money belonged to that organization and could not be moved from one to another.
The New Day Ministry had no assets beyond the donated Television time. Timmy and Tommy had overheard our distress.
Saturday morning Sunshine tapped on our bedroom door, then opened in response
to my meaningless groan. "The twins are here. They want to talk to you."
I unwrapped myself from Cowboy, pulled on a pair of cut-offs, and lumbered out into the living room. Tommy looked at me and started laughing. Looking down I saw my early morning hard-on extending out of the bottom leg. The solution was to sit down.
Timmy handed me an envelope. It contained $200 in cash. It was their birthday
money. They asked me not to tell anyone where the contribution came from. As they started to leave Tommy turned to me, and suggested I'd better go to the bath room and take care of my "problem".
"Where are you off to so early," I asked.
"Out to the ranch. Are you coming out?"
I answered that I might. "Are you kids going to spend the night?"
Tommy's reply was encased in a The cat that the canary smile. "Hopefully."
"Going to sleep in the barn again?" I asked.
The boy looked at me questionably, and said "Probably."
They moved toward the front door, and I said, "Lots of Luck." I paused, then added, "Both of you."
The short haired one turned toward me, his face turning red.
I looked them both in the eyes and said, "I mean it. Lots and lots of luck."
And then they were gone.
Jerry came out from the kitchen. "So what was that all about?"
"It's a secret."
"We don't have secrets. What's that all about?" He raced towards me pushing me down on the couch. Then sat on my stomach. "What's going on with the twins."
"You wont believe what those two just did." I handed him the envelope.
He looked in side, "What's this for?"
"The KTLA video tape." I just couldn't believe it. "Wow, I feel guilty about accepting it. It's like stealing."
"No it's not. You are not stealing, you are just letting them love you."
I looked into his eyes, realizing the truthfulness of what he said.
He started to leave, but then turned and said. "There is more to it than that. What else?"
I began to laugh as I repeated myself. "It's a secret."
"Oh Yeah. We'll see about that." He reached behind him and pulled by cock out of the bottom of the cut-offs. His hand began to massage it into full attention. He lowered himself till his lips were touching mine, and said, "Tell me or you ain't gonna get none."
I heard the telephone ring once, and then it stopped. I wasn't going to share the secret even if my lover wouldn't relent. He was now sliding downward, his lips kissing and then caressing my nipples.
Sunshine came into the room. "Sorry to break this up, but Johnny you have a long distance call from Ruth Gregory in Arkansas."
Cowboy released me, but laughingly stole my cut-offs so that I answered the phone bare assed and with a tremendous erection.
I picked up the telephone. "Hello Ruth. How are you doing."
"Johnny you'd better sit down, I have some bad news."
Jerry had followed me into the kitchen. When he saw the expression on my face he knew there was something wrong.
"I'm OK Ruth, what's the problem."
"Your mama passed away a few hours ago." I could hear her attempting to control a sob.
"What happened Ruth?"
"I don't know. I was watching her from the kitchen window. She started to move a garden hose. Then she staggered back, and slid down the trunk of a tree. I rushed out. She had an odd smile on her face, she seemed to be looking at me, then kind of waved her hand. And then she was gone. Oh Johnny! What am I ever going to do without her."
I asked if she was all right. She said that one of the local men who had been
an assistance pastor was looking after her. I asked if he was there. She said he was and then handed him the telephone.
"John, this is Warren. I knew your mother very well. She was a great friend and teacher to me, my wife and kids. We'll miss her. Ruth is taking it pretty hard, but she has a lot of strength. How soon can you get here?"
I put my hand over the telephone and told Jerry, "Mama passed away this morning we gotta go."
I took my hand from the phone and told Warren we'd be there as quickly as possible.
Sunshine had roused Jackie. It was decided that Jerry, his brother Todd, and I would be the only ones to go. While Jackie felt close to mama and Ruth,
he didn't know anyone else in that community. The New Day Ministry needed him
if I was to be away.
Locating Todd was at first a problem, but finally we found him at David's aunts.
While Jerry and I were packing for the three of us, Jackie had booked a flight on American Airlines. Departure time was just three hours away. As soon as Todd arrived we would head for the airport. We needed to ticket, and check our luggage.
At first Todd didn't want to go. I suppose his remembrance of the fight he had had with his dad had made him reluctant. But five years is a long time to hold a grudge.
Fortunately the flight was a little late, otherwise we would have missed it.
The rush of getting things together, and making the flight, had kept me too occupied to realize what had happened.
It seemed odd to think of a world without mama. We wrote a few times a year, but our contact had not been close. Yet I knew her just being their had been something upon which I relied. Now, no more.
I tried to drop off to sleep, but couldn't. Memories kept flooding my mind. The little one room church building. I wondered if it was still there. Even my sitting on Marjory's lap while she bounced me keeping time with the singing. I felt my lips involuntarily form a smile as I remembered her touching my tiny penis in those early years.
We were all adults now, yet my memory of her was that of a young country girl. I would not know the woman of thirty or so that she had become. I knew from Jerry that she had married a local boy, and that they had three children.
The Boeing 727 had been in the air for less than an hour when they announced cocktails would be served. Then Lunch.
A stewardess pushed a cart down the aisle. Jerry asked Todd if he wanted anything. Then when asked he ordered a beer for his brother and two bloody Marys for us. He hadn't asked, I didn't tell, he simply knew.
Lunch fulfilled it's purpose as we hadn't eaten breakfast, but was otherwise not worth mentioning.
It was four in the afternoon when the plane settled down on the runway at Little Rock. The flight was continuing to Chicago. Just a few other passengers deplaned.
We picked up the rental car at Avis, and immediately headed toward Conway, Clinton, and Crabtree.
At 6:30 we found the new church. It was on the road from Clinton at the turn off that would take us to Crowel Mountain and the Osbornes.
We parked in front of the church and walked around it trying to find someone. Finally a boy of about 10 riding a bicycle approached us. His daddy was Warren. He had driven Ruth to Clinton to make the final arrangements for mama's transportation from the funeral home to the Crabtree Church. The boy looked at us in awe as though we were famous movie stars.
We asked him to tell his daddy that we had arrived and were staying at the Osbornes. We'd see them in the morning.
A coin operated telephone stood alongside of the church. I suspected it was the only phone in the community.
I called the mortuary and spoke with Warren. He was glad we had called. The funeral would be held in the Crabtree Church tomorrow at noon; then internment in the little community cemetery down the road a piece.
We were expected at the Osbornes. The welcome was warm. Todd needn't have worried about being welcome. The prodigal son had returned.
I was introduced to a large woman. Her frame was that of a farmer's wife used to hard work and the bearing of children. It was Marjory. Neither of us were the youngsters of yesteryear, so neither of us had enough in common to spur conversation.
The Osbornes were happy to see Jerry, but it was to Todd that they directed their attention.
They served an excellent supper of fried chicken and rabbit, with copious amounts of real mashed potatoes and country gravy.
Soon it was time to go to bed. Mrs. Osborne was directing everyone where to sleep. But Jerry told her that he and I wanted to camp down by the river.
That was a pleasant surprise.
We left the others and hiked down to our special spot. It had not changed, although the distance seemed to be far shorter than I had remembered. Then fucking Jerry did something that brought me to tears. Out of the bag he had been carrying he pulled our comforter.
We sat along side of the river, our bare feet being cooled by the passing waters. The moon reflected from the rippling surface recreating that magical moment in my memory. Jerry reached over, pulled me to him, and kissed me solidly upon the lips.
It must have been well past two o'clock when we finally laid out the comforter and crawled into its familiar interior. We faced one another. His
breath was warm and sweet. Our lips were within tongues reach, our arms encircling; mine around his shoulders, his cupping the cheeks of my buttocks. In total commitment we slipped into dreamland.
The next morning a pestering fly woke me as the warm sun began its rise. We had shifted our position during the night. I had turned over, and Jerry's stiffie was resting where it usually did; between my legs, probing my balls. But this morning it was a bit different. First there was an unusual, but pleasant odor emanating from under the comforter, and secondly, Jerry began rocking back and forth, his shaft massaging between my legs all the way to and past my balls. His right arm was around my waist. He held me firmly in his embrace, as his hips began to move. As his pace increased, I moved backward, closer to him, sharing his unknown pleasure. As his movements increased the area between my legs got wetter and wetter. Unlike those distant years, I now knew why I squeezed my legs tight together.
Then, very suddenly Jerry began nibbling on the back of my neck and shoulders. Without warning his pecker spurted a warm, slippery substance between my legs. He held me even tighter as his hands massaged my no longer little one. His wetness trickled down inside of my leg. Even though it tickled, I didn't want to do anything that might destroy this mood, and thus lay very quite, snuggled in his arms, his now quieter breathing testifying to the waning passion which was being replaced by an even greater feeling of warmth and emotion; of love. I wasn't sure if this were real or a fond dream from the past.
It was still very early, especially for a Sunday morning. I rolled over on top of him and said, "Don't ever want to leave here. Nothing in the entire world is better than right now."
He smiled. His hand sought the back of my head, and pulled me to his lips. We opened our mouths and simply shared each others breath. Playfully I nibbled at his nose and got up.
The Osbornes were still asleep when we reached their house. We drove the Avis car down the rutted dirt road to the Church in Crabtree. Ruth was already up and about. Her eyes were puffy, and she didn't look like she had slept.
Our old trailer was parked behind the new church. She invited us in asking if we'd like a cup of coffee. She told me what she had planned for the day, and asked how long we were going to stay. She seemed disappointed when we told her that we must return to California as quickly as possible. But when she was told about the new television ministry she seemed pleased. "You know John, your Mama and I often spoke about the Revival Ministry in Little Rock. We weren't sure what we should do with the money once we ceased to broadcast. We used a small amount of the three million to build this church. But that shouldn't a happened cause that money was donated for broadcast. Most of the money is in a bank in Little Rock just a earning interest. We'd..." She paused for a moment choking back a sob, "I would like for you to have it for your television work."
Both Jerry and I just stared at each other. We knew she was right. We knew that we had to accept. But we couldn't believe it. Last week we had to accept the charity of a couple of fifteen year old children, now that work would have three million dollars.
"We've got a lawyer down in Clinton who we need to see. He'll see to it."
The old woman got up from her chair. "You kids stay put. I'll be right back." She walked over to the pay phone, and dialed a number. She talked for a couple of minutes, then returned to the trailer. "Judge Jackson will see us this afternoon as soon as we've buried your mama."
The hearse arrived from Clinton. They slid the coffin onto a dolly, and then into the church. The platform was already loaded with flowers. The old woman moved around the stage, adjusting and putting things right.
Then people began to arrive. Some wore suits that were rarely taken out of a cedar chest. Others wore simple work clothes. Jerry had packed two of my dark suits. I had to laugh as he put one of mine on. The sleeves were too short. The pants stretched tightly over his buttocks. The coat would hide that. Otherwise it wouldn't do.
We sat on the aisle about half way back.
They had opened the casket. Mother's face did not look natural. It seemed too full, the cosmetics too obvious. There were many children who entered and crowded up to the casket to pay their last respects. One little girl pulled over a chair. Standing on it, she kissed mama upon the lips, and placed a single red rose on her bosom.
I could not bring myself to do like wise. I would have lost it if I had tried.
Mama had been closer to these children than she had ever been to me. She must have shown them a great deal of affection to have been loved back to this extent. It was a warmth that I had recieved from her.
Warren stood next to mama and told us how much everyone loved her. How important she was to the entire community. As he spoke he brought in passages
from the Bible. It was a gentle merging of gospel and every day life. Tears began to seep out of my eyes. I had to get my mind off of mama or I would loose control of myself. I forced my mind to the sexual part of last night's loving. That worked for a while. Lust is a strong force. But that didn't last. I closed my eyes trying to imagine the twins getting it on with Mrs. Johansen. That also worked for a while. But all I had to do was open my eyes and see the loving congregation that stood in testimony of the worth of my mother, and I lost control.
I was going to make a spectacle of myself if I remained seated. Abruptly I rose and hurried out of the church. Jerry did not follow. I stood next to the rental car with tears flowing down my cheeks. I chastised myself for having so little self control.
I have no idea how long I stood there before people began to exit the church.
Jerry, Todd, Mr. Osborne, and Warren carried the coffin from the church, placing it in the waiting hearse.
Then a cortege of rural vehicles followed the hearse down the road. There were pickup trucks, ancient cars, and even a farm tractor. All except the hearse parked along side of the road, while that vehicle climbed a narrow dirt path to the crest of a small hill.
We followed the hearse on foot. The cemetery couldn't have been more than one hundred foot across any side.
Caring for the home of the dead had never been high priority for the community as weeds were tall, and many. Some headstones were at rakish angles
as though a child had stumbled over them.
In the far corner was a freshly dug grave. Without ceremony the coffin was lowered into it's final resting place.
A wind started as small gusts, but soon steadied blowing the weeds away from the new grave. Just then clouds moved across the sky, and I felt cold.
Warren added a few words including "From dust to dust". Earth was thrown on to the box. And I stood there cold, and uncomfortable. Alone.
I looked around trying to spot Jerry. I found him alongside Ruth. She was weeping. Then they turned and walked toward the road.
Now, only mama and I were at her final resting place. I could hear car doors closing. I moved back to the edge of the grave. I reached down for a handful of earth, and sprinkled it upon the box. As each piece struck the surface it was as the sound of a timpani drum ringing out the finality of this last meeting. "Good-bye Mama. Your love fed the world, while I starved for the lack of it. You never knew how much I loved you."
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