Mama Was a Preacher

Mama was a Preacher Chapter Eight Ho ho ho. Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved.

We had developed affectionate nick names for one another: Jerry was Cowboy because he dressed that way. Danny was Ho because he had been a whore. Peter became Hay Stack because of his well stacked body. Robbie was Jew Boy because he was Jewish. Jackie was The Boss because he was. I was known as Mandrake or The Man referring to the magician in the Sunday comics.

Our group had grown very tight. The idea of kids who attend a religious school finding religion to be interesting should not be surprising. However only Cowboy and myself were enrolled at Cutler. Ho and Peter were heavy into radio broadcasting, and television. The Boss and Jew Boy had bonded in a strangely different way: it was not sexual. Jew Boy was as straight as an arrow, yet he merged into our group.

Music being the subject The Boss was teaching at The Don Martin School opened a number of opportunities for us. The entire group was formed into a "project". Our voices had been changing as we passed through adolescence. My tender soprano voice had deepened, but had yet to stabilize in maturity. Cowboys voice also had deepened, but despite all of Jackies' efforts Jerry couldn't loose the Arkansas drawl. Ho's description of his own voice, was "Deeper than a stiff dick up a cute butt". Jew Boy's voice was the most unique. He had been trained in the temple, and had mastered control of his voice being able to change from the musical scale of traditional jewish music, to the octal scale we Christians used.

Each of us had our own reasons for our burning interest in "religion". Jackie and I were on a quest for "the Thing". Ho had developed an interest in understanding human behavior. His having been a hustler had given him an insight that the rest of us did not share.

The entire school year had passed. Summer was drawing near, and Sid had been after us to "cut another album". I had been studying the Torah with Rabbi Solomon from the West Hollywood Temple, and had begun to develop my own theory on religion. Jew Boy said his dad would underwrite a tour on the Revival Circuit, if we always had a song-fest as the finale just before leaving a city. The song-fest tapes would belong to Capitol.

The memory of Macon had my appetite whetted for a real chance to work with a congregation.

I wrote a long letter to mama, telling her that I wanted to use the bus and tent to conduct revival meetings. I hoped she could talk Reverend Gregory into letting us use the equipment.

The response was immediate. Ray would be happy to let us use everything we needed, as long as we taped the services, and they could use them in the radio ministry.

It appeared there might be a conflict, so Robbie had his dad telephone Ray, and workout the details. In the end everyone got what they wanted. Capitol got the song-fest tapes, Ray got the tapes of the meetings, and I was given the opportunity to become, as Ho had put it, "The best fucking preacher in the Bible Belt."

A plus was added to the projected tour when Ray suggested that we go live on stations that were part of his network; The Revival Hour would pickup the tab.

Cowboy and I had resolved that the beginning of summer would be the absolute end of our attendance at Cutler.

The itinerary that we had chosen was a duplicate of the one with the Gregroys': Little Rock, Memphis, Florida, Macon, Virginia Beach, Nashville, and closing with a repeat visit to Little Rock.

Several weeks before the end of the school year, Jackie had been given an invitation by Don MacMillan for dinner in a small village just north of San Diego. The invitation had actually been issued to me, but Jackie had been included as the invitation was for two.

La Jolla is over one hundred miles south of West Hollywood, and a world apart. Jackie asked if I wanted to go. Of course I did, an invitation from total strangers, was out of the ordinary, and to top it all off the author of the invitation had been an old flame of Jackies. For the invitation to have been routed through Cutler Academy made it odder still.

Two things weighed heavily in favor of accepting the invitation. First, the host was a man of extreme wealth. Second, the guest of honor was a world renowned concert pianist.

Dr. Lewis Lickman's home sat on a two acre flat plateau near the top of a hill in La Jolla. There were a few more expensive home sites in La Jolla, but no other could boast the incredible view of the bay than from his west facing windows. From the street, an ascending curved driveway five hundred feet in length prevented curious eyes from viewing the structures on the property, while an automatic electrically controlled gate at street level, assured privacy.

The "doctor" preceding his name resulted from three separate doctorates he had acquired during his exhaustive education in Europe. He boasted to being a PHD in good luck. This because, shortly after Adolph Hitler came to power, he rightly perceived the future danger to all Jews remaining in Germany. Converting the family's holdings into cash and gems, he'd gotten out in plenty of time, and settled in California. Certain the problems in Europe would eventually engulf the United States, he invested heavily in stocks soon to boom along with America's rearmament. The eventual ending of World War 2 found Dr. Lickman's investment portfolio safely out of all arms producing enterprises, and well placed in California real estate.

Jackie explained that the guest of honor, William Kappell, had been responsible for introducing America to the modern classical music of Russian composer Aram Khatchaturian. Kappell's wife, would be accompanying him. I asked if Louie had arranged to have his grand piano tuned for the occasion and he laughed. "Of course. Nothing could please him more than for Kappell to use it. But, I've been warned not to suggest anything of the sort. It would be terribly bad manners to do so."

I felt pretty spiffy in the new white panama suit I purchased for the occasion. We drove to La Jolla in the model "A". It was a carefree happy drive all the way, but I became a little nervous when we reached the top of the driveway and I noticed three very shiny, very expensive cars, already parked at the top. Our car looked out of place among these others, and I felt a little as though we were poor relatives who maybe would be out of place among the obviously wealthy other guests. Would my new suit look cheap to this group?

We were made to feel right at home however, by Louie, as soon as we were let in by a maid. The Boss had a Dry Martini handed to him and even I received a glass of white wine. After we were introduced to the three straight couples already there, Louie took center stage. "As you know, the Kappell's returned from a far east vacation just two days ago. I am delighted they accepted my invitation. They should be arriving here momentarily, but I just want to caution you all.. Please, let's not any of us ask Mr. Kappell to play."

"What if he wants to?" I ventured.

"Well, of course, that would be delightful, but you know what I mean. If he does play, let it be his idea only."

I knew I shouldn't continue with it, but I found the situation amusing and just had to suggest, "How about if Jackie is playing the piano when they arrive? Would that be bad?"

"As much as I have always enjoyed Jackie's playing, I think it might approach the look of a setup. So no."

Further discussion was prevented by the front door chimes ringing. I became nervous again. This very special individual was arriving. Suddenly, I had a thought. What if he didn't speak English? Who here could speak Russian? Finally, what would he think about Jackie and me? Would he think Jackie and I were a couple? For that matter, what did everyone else here think about us? I vowed to myself to keep my mouth shut and simply observe and absorb the occasion.

Dr. Lickman met the couple at the entry. Somehow, I had pictured Kappell to be much older than he was. He looked to be in his thirties. His wife was very pretty, and very Californian in her choice of a colorful silk blouse over the expensively pleated skirt she wore for the occasion. Mr. Kappell was also comfortably dressed in a herringbone gray blazer and light gray slacks. He was the only man present not wearing a tie. As the introductions were made, I noticed that Kappell's eyes flicked over to the piano for an instant, and away. It occurred to me I could read his mind. "Oh, shit," I believed he was thinking. Another Grand. I'll bet it was tuned just for me, today."

We were the last persons presented. "Jackie and Johnny Marshall," Louie was saying. We didn't correct the faux pas. Kappell presented his hand, which I shook. Something weird happened. Something like a soft electric spark passed between our joined hands. I was certain he too had felt it.

"Happy to meet you," Kappell said as he released my hand. I was mildly surprised to realize this guy spoke English a heck of a lot better than I could. He was American.., had to be. And why the hell not? You don't have to be Russian to play a Russian composer's music. Daaa. Then, with no further ado, and smiling.., smiling as though it were the most natural next thing to say, he asked me: "Don't you think that Jewish people are just a little bit pushy?"

You could hear the silence that erupted throughout the place. I was stunned. I was not happy with the question. In a flash, it passed through my consciousness that our "Jew Boy" did tend to be argumentative, and as for his father ... "Wowa, there boy," I thought. Just act speechless, and I did.

Kappell turned from me towards the others, "No. I'm not being bad. I always believe in 'telling it like it is' you see." A couple of nervous gestures, a few throat clearings, and he continued, "There's no question about it that a great many people, in a great many places, at best.. dislike Jews. But don't you think," addressing everyone, "that a lot of the prejudice is engendered by Jews themselves?" Without a pause for effect, he continued, "From way before Shakespeare ever wrote 'The Merchant of Venice,' back to earlier even than to the time of Christ, Jews have worked at being self serving, even within their own close knit circles. Don't any of you agree?"

The women tried not to look disturbed, but they were. The men, all but one, looked as though they were mulling over what had been said. The 'one' was actually slightly nodding his head as though in accord. I could not remain silent any longer. "You can't say.., about any group, that they are all good, or all bad. I have a number of Jewish friends and they wouldn't be friends if they were bad." The words shot out of my mouth so surprisingly to me, that I started to blush. But I inwardly smiled to myself at the idea of Robbie cheering me on.

All eyes were on me, but Kappell's were the more compelling. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he mused. "Forgive me, everyone?" A chorus of , "Not at all." And, "No need to apologize." And a lot of other crap like that. It took a concerned effort to shyly peek over at The Boss next to me.., to see if he might be pissed at my outburst. But happily, he responded with an amused grin. I would have loved to kiss him full on the mouth at that moment, yeah, even in front of everyone. He'd made me feel that good. On the other hand, there was our host. I deliberately looked at him and saw that he did not seem pleased. I wondered, "I know Dr. Louis Lickman is himself Jewish," how come he doesn't seem offended.

The eldest lady there, a dowager really, somehow knew of me. "Sweet Johnny," she smiled, "I love the way you sing praises to the Lord."

"Thank you," I responded, a little embarrassed.

A new couple arrived and was introduced around. Cocktails continued being served and consumed. Hors d'oeuvres with real Beluga caviar, and many other goodies were passed around by two maids while a bartender prepared drinks in the background.

Eventually we were assigned seats around the dining room table which was resplendent with fine Irish linen. Three very beautiful candle holders, whose total of twelve long candles, provided refined light. This highlighted the elegantly simple white, but very fine bone china dinnerware, as well as the solid silver utensils. I was a bit disconcerted to find myself seated directly across from Mr. Kappell.

A delicious banquet progressed with happy guests in comfortable conversations 'round the table and I had all but forgotten Kappell's earlier rude questions when our eyes met, and he addressed me directly. "I hope I didn't come off as out of line before. It's just that since I am Jewish myself, I like to know how people in a new group feel about such matters."

That did it. I no longer cared if anyone would think me as out of line. "What?" I said, loud enough to stop all conversation at the table. "How the hell could you expect an honest answer? You are a celebrity... and..., and the guest of honor here. You've intimidated people with your remarks into being concerned over disagreeing with you. I think that stinks!"

Most of the others seemed somewhat pleased by my tirade. Dr. Lickman's thoughts remained hidden, but at this point I didn't care if I were ever invited to his house again. I was really pissed off. Then, Kappell responded. "I am terribly sorry if I offended anyone. I assure you I didn't mean to, believe me, please. You've just made me realize how wrong it has been for me to even broach such a subject."

Everyone was, of course, listening with great interest to this exchange, but, I guess to be certain there would be no further misunderstandings, he addressed the group in general, "Dear new friends, I do heartily apologize for my unseemly behavior. If there's anything I can do to make up for..."

I interrupted him, "Your apology is accepted, by me at least... IF you will play for us."

He smiled a beatific smile at me with those piercing eyes of his as he answered, "I'd be delighted."

Espresso, cordials, and even Baked Alaska were then served to those interested. A much more relaxed group enjoyed the dinner's finale. As guests moved away from the dining room, Kappell went directly to the piano. He enthralled everyone as he played a Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto he'd recently recorded. Without even waiting for an encore request, he went right into playing Khatchaturian's Piano Concerto.

This was now a real party. The dinner conversations had solidified everyone into comfortable friendships, and the music from Kappell was a bonus no one had really anticipated, regardless of how much we all wanted it to occur. Afterwards Dr. Lickman made it a point to come to me and smilingly state, "Dear Johnny, you had me a little concerned for a while there, but you were wonderful and absolutely right in challenging Kappell as you did. I guess you are a further proof that we older adults don't always have the courage of youth, so sometimes we hold back from saying things we know to be right. Someone once said, '...out of the mouth of babes,' and I want to say I'm very proud you were here tonight..., and many, many thanks."

I wanted to say "Bull Shit," but instead just gave him a stupid smile.

He leaned over to whisper in Jackies ear, but it was loud enough for me to catch the jest of it; he suggested that if Jackie didn't keep a good strong hold on me, he would be delighted at the opportunity to get to know me better. It was obvious that Louie had become infatuated with me, and since we did not want to complicate matters, Jackie and I let him continue the assumption that we were a couple.

At first the drive north along Highway 101 was in silence. I was quite tired. I had dozed off, and we were just passing through the town of Oceanside when Jackie woke me. "You took one hell of a risk handling Kappell that way."

"No I didn't. That whole bit was designed to get my response."

Jackie said, "You think the whole world revolves around you?"

"No, but something happened when he shook my hand which passed a world of knowledge between us. I'll tell you something else, the man has been touched by 'the Thing'. I don't know if it was just a one time experience, or if he knows how to use it."

I fell back asleep wondering about Kappell, wondering about the future.

Our entire group, meaning Ho, Jew Boy, Hay Stack, Cowboy and myself, had decided to enroll at the Don Martin School in September. Unexpectedly, Capitol Records offered to pay the tuition. There was a catch: We were to make ourselves available for any promotional activities that might be required as a result of the summer recordings.

School would be out in the first week of June. Sid had already booked our flight to Little Rock. We were to leave at 10AM Monday morning.

We had arranged for a "house sitter" during our absence. David McCoy would take up temporary residence.

That weekend was rather hectic as everyone made lists of things to pack for the trip. We would be gone for two and a half months.

Saturday morning the telephone rang. We were all still in bed. Peter and Ho were in their room, Cowboy, The Boss, and I were in the back bedroom. Jew Boy was flaked out on the couch. It was Robbie who answered the telephone. The call was for Jerry.

He was carrying the telephone as he entered our bedroom. Jerry and I were entangled, arms around each other, lips almost touching. Robbie, bent down over us, and in a single kiss touched both of our cheeks. "Hey, Cowboy, you know any one by the name of Todd?"

Jerry instantly sat up and grabbed the phone. "Hey Todd. What's up? We aren't even out of bed yet. What time is it there." He paused, listening to his brother. "What do you mean eight o'clock. It's eight here."

"You are WHERE?" Jerry leaped out of bed. "Jackie! Jackie wake up. Todd's at the Airport. Todd's here in L.A."

Robbie turned to leave the bedroom, paused, then said, "We can use my car. What Airline is he on."

Peter and Ho had peeked into the room, wondering what all of the commotion was about.

Robbie had a small English sports car, so only Jerry rode along in the MG to pickup his brother.

Todd's arrival was totally unexpected, and the short telephone conversation had created more questions than it had answered. We all wondered why he had come to California without writing or telephoning. His timing was certainly off in as much as we were leaving early Monday morning for Arkansas.

While they were gone we untied the beds so as to create the impression that we slept separately. I muttered something to Ho about being glad we would be out of here in two days, hoping Todd wouldn't catch on.

Jackie and Ho had begun to organize breakfast.

Almost an hour and a half had elapsed before we heard the deep metallic sound of the MG's muffler come to an abrupt stop in our drive way. I looked out the kitchen window. Jerry was sitting on Todd's lap. The trunk lid was being held down over two large suitcases by a rope which wrapped around the bumper.

Jerry was already out of the car. Todd unfolded himself from the cramped passenger seat. He had grown quite a bit in the last year. He wasn't any taller, but he was heavier. The last time I had seen him, he was a typical hill country, Arkansas farm boy. What I now saw was a well dressed, trim, muscular young man whose bearing bespoke of confidence and self assurance. Todd had become city-fied. Something else had also changed. As he turned toward the house it looked like he had a sizable erection. I wondered if little brother sitting on his lap had done that to him.

He had gotten himself under control as Jerry led him into the kitchen through the back door. "Hey Johnny! Damn, it's good to see you. You've sure grown."

Remembering his earlier erection I thought, "Yeah.. So have you." But what I said was simply, "You're looking good. What are you doing in California."

Jerry jumped in, "He is here for the summer ... or longer." He turned to Jackie, "Can Todd stay here while we are on the road?"

Jackies response was directed to Todd, "I don't know why not. David is supposed to be here sometime this afternoon. You can use the rear bedroom. Besides, David will probably be spending a lot of his time with his ... with his aunt up in the canyon."

"I gotta find a job."

Jackie said he'd talk to Howard Townsend, "He'd need someone to replace Ho while we were on the road." But Robbie suggested that his dad could probably put him to work at Capitol Records.

We had expected to hear from David before one o'clock. It was almost three when the telephone rang. Robbie answered it. Moments later he told us that David wanted to be picked up at this aunts place. He invited Todd to go along for the ride.

An hour later we heard the MG pull into the drive way. Robbie was alone. The aunt had invited the boys for a late lunch, but he felt there was more to the invitation than lunch, and so declined.

According to Robbie, David and Todd took an instant liking to each other. The aunt had volunteered to return both boys later that evening.

She lied. It was almost four in the morning when I was awakened by a pounding on our front door. The pounding had gone on for quite a while before I remembered that Robbie had gone home when we went to bed.

I grabbed a bath towel wrapped it around my waist, and answered the door. It was Todd. He smelled of martinis: gin and vermouth. His speech was slurred as he moved into the room, "What a woman." He headed for the couch tossing his clothes on the floor. He was stark naked as he collapsed face up. His dick was flaccid, but quite red from over use.

As I said good night, he grabbed my towel, pulling me nakedly flat on his body. The gin was quite strong. His arms went around me, hugging me close to his chest. "Did I ever tell you that you are one of my favorite people?"

There was no further movement, so I lifted myself from his embrace, walked back into our bedroom and told Jerry of the happenings. He followed me back to the couch, and bent over his older brother, confirming my observations. Todd's eyes snapped open. His arms went around Jerry and pulled him into the same position I had been, but followed it with a deep tongue kiss.

For the first time I felt pangs of jealousy. Eventually the embrace relaxed, the pace of his breathing slowed. He had fallen asleep. I suddenly had a need to throw my arms around Jerry, hold him tightly against me, taste his mouth, merge with him.

We fell back into bed. Jackie moaned something about, "Haven't your dicks fallen off YET!"

Sunday was to be our last day in Hollywood. At this time on Monday we would already be at the airport.

Robbie showed up, as usual, in time for breakfast. He had David with him. David looked as worn out as Todd.

Jerry said, "So what's up?"

As in a chorus, Todd and David said, "Not Much."

Todd rubbed his crotch. "On second thought, quite a bit." His hard cock was putting a giant sized tent in his left trouser leg.

"Well, you went home early, fucker. I didn't get ANY sleep after you left." David reached over and punched Todd gently in the stomach.

We gathered around the table. Jackie was cooking pancakes on the griddle.

Jerry repeated a line he had said almost a year ago: "Ain't Love Grand."

I laughed at him, and said that was plain sex; basic animalistic sex, it couldn't compare with sex with someone you loved.

Todd's Arkansas drawl, was a relaxing change in sound, but his statement was full of play. "Bull shit. There is nothing as great as having your dick inside of a hot cunt; unless it's thinking about it, or working at it. Sex is divided into three parts; thinking about it, the game of getting it, the exercise in getting off. You take any of that away and it is not worth doing."

I could see this turning into an interesting debate, and said, "I think people attract each other and bond, mostly because the other fulfills a need the other lacks. It is almost like the valance of atoms that bond into a single molecule. Because the product of that bonding is a totally new creation, it exhibits its own special characteristics. Some of the original characteristics may emerge in the final product, but mostly the fulfillment created something quite different, quite unique. When I am with Jerry I feel that we are not two people; we are only one. Even in bed, it is more like self indulgence or masturbation. I think of his body as being part of mine."

Jerry continued, "Real love always lead to sex. When you jack off or have a wet dream, the total experience comes from within your mind. I have to agree with Johnny's description of real love. Since his body is mine, and mine is his, since we have merged into a single creature, it is only natural that our sexual sides also became one providing total fulfillment. By comparison, there is no other sex than sex with Johnny. Nothing else comes close to it. The only thing that bothers me is what would I do if we were separated; I think I'd rather die."

"You kids don't know what you are talking about," came from Jackie as he brought the first batch of hot cakes to the table. "Sex is animalistic. Sex is natural. Sex is a pain in the ass. It always gets in the way of productivity. If you ignore reproduction, then sex is totally destructive. It serves no purpose. It generates a demand which either endangers our goals, or drains resources that are needed elsewhere."

Danny, cut Jackie off at the pass: "Sex is the common denominator. It breaks down barriers, allowing people to communicate. If I go to bed with a total stranger, when I get out of his bed, he is no longer a stranger. I know more about him as a result of spending a few minutes in his bed, than a psychiatrist can learn in a hundred sessions."

Peter looked at Danny, with an odd expression on his face. "Fuck! You guys are all out of your minds. Sex is just plain fun. It's like going into a great restaurant and ordering something different. A good chef can surprise you, tantalize you, pleasure you. It's a basic human appetite. You don't learn anything about the chef when you eat his food, you don't learn anything from a cute guy whose sucking your dick. It's all nerve endings, and pleasure; nothing else."

"OK. It's time for an EXPERT to tell you guys the whole story about sex. And since I was a father at thirteen, I ought to be an expert." David took a deep breath and continued, "There are only two kinds of relationships between people: sexual and none sexual. 90 percent of relationships are sexual. I looked at Todd and Robbie, and I see a stud. Being a stud is sexual. Eventhough I don't think in terms of sex with either of them, I'd be lying through my teeth if I said flat out I'd never do sexual things with them. Hell, when Todd stayed over last night, we both fucked my aunt as a team. I didn't think about his sticking his dick up my butt, but I was fascinated by watching him screw her; my dick went up, not down. Sex is in the mind. If you jack off and think of another guy, then I think you're queer. If you jack off and you think of a girl, then I believe you are straight. I know damn well that regardless of who is sucking my dick, the image in my mind is a cute, blonde haired girl, with big tits, and a cute pussy."

Robbie started to say something. Stopped, then continued, "I can't believe what I am hearing. Sex is for the purpose of procreation. You're supposed to fuck to create children. And having children is the ultimate responsibility. In my mind it supersedes all else. The future is created by our dicks. Tomorrow is the product of todays fuck. If you think I'm wrong, just look at the bible. 90 percent of it is about fucking and what happens when you do. Genesis is TOTALLY a record of procreation."

This debate went on for almost two hours. The more we each expanded our points of view, the more solid became our positions. Solid, but shifting towards a common point of view. Considering that we are talking about kids, that's quite a bit to say. Jackie was the oldest at 24, and I was the youngest having just past my 17th birthday.

Looking back to 1952 I am astonished to realize that our new outlook on religion, and on human sexuality started that long ago. Of our entire group Ho and I were the most philosophical, yet our backgrounds were worlds apart. I am not suggesting that we agreed on everything, in fact we hardly agreed on anything. But the point I am making is that we thought about people and their relationship to each other ... and within the world. The others were either bound up in inherited attitudes, or simply lived for today.

The teenage tent revival was becoming more and more exciting. We each had our own reasons for partaking of this adventure. About the only thing we all shared was a genuine, and still growing affection for one another.

When we boarded the airplane at Los Angeles International Airport, I suddenly realized that David and Todd should have come with us. In just two days they had become so woven into the fabric of our lives, that leaving them behind left an opening that needed to be filled.

But the die had been cast, the next chapter of our lives would be without them.

Ray and mama met us at the Airport. We were a motley looking group. As usual Jackie was in the lead as we debarked the plane, followed by Robbie, Peter, and Ho. Jerry and I were the last in line.

Jackie's brown slacks and tan pull over shirt were wrinkled from sitting too long in one position. Robbie was pale, the flight had been a bit bumpy and he had thrown up several times. Peter looked as though he had not slept in several days, and Ho had a rod that needed to be camouflaged. Jerry and I were trying hard not to look like we were a couple, and over-did the "I'm not with him" look.

Ray and mama were all smiles. Ray shook hands with Jackie, but threw his arms around Jerry in a strong, fatherly embrace. Mama had taken me into her arms in an unaccustomed display of affection.

When it came to introducing Danny to Ray, and odd thing occurred. The handshake at first had been very stand-offish. As they looked into each others eyes a warmth began to develop that evolved into a full embrace, as Ray said, "You will be a refreshing breeze in God's work."

Ho's face had at first flushed. Jerry and I were standing behind Ray looking at Danny's chin resting on Gregorys shoulder. Tears began to flow down the boy's cheeks. It was most remarkable.

The Revival Hour had acquired a new Dodge three seat station wagon. Ho was sitting next to Ray with Jackie on the outside. Mama was sitting between Jerry and myself. Peter and Robbie were in the back.

During the drive back to the Revival Hour headquarters, Ray explained that the Bus had just been serviced, and the tent was already loaded. Also, they were going to let us use the Station Wagon during our tour. He had already started local radio promo's in both Little Rock and Memphis.

When we got to what Ray began referring to as the "Compound", we saw that there had been changes made to the original warehouse structure. Two manufactured house units had been place at opposite ends of the building. Mama's living quarters was the one next to where we had constructed the bedroom we three had shared a year ago. The Gregorys quarters looked a bit larger, but mama said they were the same sized.

The big bed was still in our old quarters, but Sister Ruth had installed a small kitchenette providing coffee and snacks as refreshments for a days business at Revival Headquarters.

Today was Monday. We would set up the tent in the lot next to KLRA. Our first service was set for Friday night.

Ever since I had received the "go ahead" from Ray on the use of the tent, I had been thinking about my sermons. Those ideas were soon to become reality. But, our group discussions had altered my view point. I still came back to one point. God made us all. God did not make mistakes. The big question still in need of an answer was the WHY.

Jackie assumed the position of director and executive producer of this adventure. Ray said we could use his office. The six of us gathered together in the reference library. It was decided that even though I would par ticipate in the musical portion of the program, it would be the preaching that would become my primary responsibility. Jackie wanted the music to be an integral part of the entire production creating a path down which the sermon would be drawn. This meant the speech needed to be written before the others could do their work. As I labored over the task, I found that my newly evolved philosophy was getting in the way; or maybe it was the other way around, the bible was getting in the way.

Those thoughts were kept to myself. Ray certainly would not agree.

During the months that I had been studying under Rabbi Solomon I had read many of the old manuscripts in his library. I had surreptitiously researched the subject of homosexuality in both the Greek and Hebrew texts, and could find no mention of it. I began to realize the political power of religion, and suspected that it was to that end that sexuality had been misinterpreted.

Make people feel guilty and you can control them. Just that simple. Just that evil. Just that morally corrupt. Yet, trace the history of religion, and you can see that that is the way it works. Where was the good in humans when they burned witches at the stake, or crucified those who attempted to show the path of truth. Hell fire and brimstone was the promised reward for using logic instead of faith.

How can I become part of that evil? I expressed my concern to my better half, and Cowboy asked permission to discuss the matter with Jackie.

Jackies response was swift. "You'd better travel down the only road that exists. There isn't enough time in your entire life to change the course of the world. DON'T try to create something totally new. Use the existing road to spread a correction to the system. Don't even think about destroying the only road we have."

I did as I was told, but guilt lurked in the background.

Ray entered his office as I labored over this first sermon. "Got a problem?"

I nodded "yes."

"You know there is one passage in the New Testament that I always go back to when I need a starting point. Take a look at the 5th chapter of Matthew."

Ray quietly left the room. The only thing he had achieved in entering was to help me. It struck me as odd.

I leafed through my bible to the book of Matthew. I couldn't believe my eyes as I viewed the text. There was the pattern laid out as clearly as could be. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

1. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

2. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

3. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

4. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

5. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.

6. Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.

7. Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savor, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.

8. Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.

9. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.

No, I was wrong. The pattern was 1,2,3. 1,2,3. 1,2,3,4.

1. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill.

And there was a personal message in that forth piece. "Not destroy, but to fulfill."

I sat back in awe. My path was clear. The Boss was correct. Use the existing road to alter it into the NEW one.

As I re-read the verses I jotted down the hymns that I would like to use as the avenue down which the sermon would march: "Cleanse Me", "His Eye is on the Sparrow", "Bringing in the Sheaves".

If things worked out the way I hoped, the rest of the music would come extemporaneously.

I worked into the wee hours of the morning. I felt a strange presence. Momentarily I dozed, and was awakened by a vision of Sister Aimee, floating down the ramp at Angelus Temple. The vision was not eerie, it did not chill me as it had before. Rather it brought warmth and a feeling of power. Something had changed, but I didn't know what. I continued with my work until the office was flooded with daylight.

Cowboy entered the office. "I missed you." He moved behind me, putting his arms around me. "You want to come in for breakfast, or should I bring something out for you?"

I stretched, and yawned. "No, I'll come with you." I started to raise from my chair, but Cowboy was sill embracing me.

He squeezed even tighter, then suddenly released me. I stood. His gaze had changed to something quizzical. "What happened to you last night? There is something very different about you."

I told him I didn't know, even though I did. I could not rationalize what I suspected might be the truth. It was too wild to share. Too wild to even believe. Lurking deep within my subconscious was the knowledge that I had been visited by the ghost of Sister Aimee. She had left something inside of me. She had been dead for years, yet her spirit had moved across the boundaries of death and time to touch me

As I looked at Jerry a great feeling of love flowed from my heart. But even that was different. It was love, not lust. His eyes drew me closer to him. I kissed him, and in doing so tears began welling into my eyes, and flowed down my cheeks.

"What's wrong, John?"

"Absolutely nothing. I just love you so much, that it makes me want to cry."

We walked away from Rays office. The morning was still cool. Only Jerry seemed to have started his day.

Steven Hay and Harry Wiser (Junior) showed up at nine o'clock. "We got a call from Capitol. Your guy Sid Cohen is sending an engineer out here tomorrow. They want to make certain your sound recording equipment is the best there is around, and fully functional." Harry continued, "Either Steven or I will probably come along on the tour."

Much of Tuesday, and all of Wednesday was spent rehearsing the song list I had provided.

Thursday the engineer from Capitol arrived with a truck load of equipment. Sid had authorized him to buy a Bus which would be modified into a traveling control room. His plans were too expansive for the short time we had in Little Rock. And far too expansive to be implemented before Friday.

Several calls went back and forth between Robbie, his dad, the engineer, and Ray. What evolved was a plan which would put the new mobile recording system on the road in one month. If we were lucky we would have it when we left Memphis. Steve and Harry would work with the Capitol people in the construction, and thus would also be trained in the use of the recording equipment. Some of the wireless microphone equipment was being specially built to order by a new company called VEGA, and that equipment would not be ready until we were on the road.

Friday morning we moved the tent in the Gregory's bus to the lot next to KLRA. Ray and Ruth accompanied us, and supervised it's assembly. It had been a long time since the tent had been used, and even the Gregorys were a little rusty in putting it together. Ho, Jew Boy, and Peter were to be the team leaders in getting each new site ready. We also brought mama's trailer to the site for use as a temporary control room. Ray suggested that we borrow the Gates Audio Console from the ministry, but in as much as we wouldn't have it in Memphis we decided against it, and chose instead to make do with one of the old Presto disk recorders as a line amplifier. The engineer from Capitol was not pleased with that decision, and contributed a miniature mixing board that had been slated for installation in the new bus.

By four o'clock I was in a sweat. This whole project was resting in my hands. I had written and re-written my sermon, but in reality, the written material was nothing more than a guide. The real performance would come as a result of the interaction between the audience and myself.

Jackie, Jerry, and Peter were the architects of the setting in which my sermon would either succeed or fail.

We all gathered for our evening meal at five o'clock. I couldn't eat a bite.

At six o'clock we gathered in the tent for a final conference, just to make sure everything was in place. The tent flap was up so we could see KLRA. The trailer had been moved to the back of the tent. The microphone cables extended from the platform back through the rear and into the trailer. Steven would be in the control room. Two microphones had been suspended from the top of the tent, hanging over the audience. Two more microphones were on stands with extra long cords that could reach the back row.

Jackie ran his fingers over the keyboard, testing the piano, and giving Steven a sound level.

The old Brush recorder was being used. A second, newer one, made by a new company called AMPEX had been loaned to us by Capitol.

Tonight would be both Jew Boy and Ho's first exposure to a tent revival. Looking back I realize that they had come to know me too well not to be startled by this evenings production.

We had a packed house by seven. KLRA would take us live at seven-thirty.

Jackie was warming up at the piano. The rest of us stood next to him, harmonizing. Jerry and I started playing with each others voices, as we had always done. Robbie surprised us by bringing in vocal runs that were more Jewish than Christian. It was done in good taste, and it inspired us to include him in our playing. Ho & Peter joined in as a duet. The result was both unexpected and refreshingly different.

Jackie quietly said, "OK kids here we go". And started Onward Christian Soldiers.

I had forgotten just how well Jackie could control a singing event. Even though it was not evident, he promoted Jerry and I, with the rest becoming backup.

Our group simply turned toward the audience. Very informally, the meeting got underway.

At seven-thirty I saw a signal from the control room that we were on the air. We did nothing different as we were already singing. We moved from "Onward Christian Soldiers" to "Cleanse Me". The change was an abrupt downward one in pace. Within a few moments everyone in the tent was participating at this lower tempo. Then as rehearsed, I moved toward the podium, microphone in hand, half singing half speaking, "Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy."

Jerry was moving toward me, microphone in hand, as Jackie segued into "His Eyes is on the Sparrow".

Halfway through the number my voice had become the dominate sound, "Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God." The group gathered behind me as I continued, "Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God."

All but Jerry moved back to the piano, and started "Bringing in the Sheaves".

I looked at Cowboy, standing there in his Levies, boots, and cowboy hat, and said quietly, "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Clearly his voice rang out, "Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake."

Together we sang out, "Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you."

There was something coming from the audience. I listened carefully, and noted the sounds of excitement that I had detected in the dead room at Capitol records. My senses devoured that excitement. I was going to try something different. We had done the One-Two-Three, twice. Something within me told me that One-Two-Three-Four would take us over the edge.

Jerry had moved back to the piano.

There was silence.

I whispered into the microphone "Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost its savor, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men."

Now there was absolute silence, yet there was also excitement. How can this be coming from the congregation, there is no sound, there is only absolute silence. Something was building within me, an exhilaration generating deeply within me. Something was happening, but I knew not what.

Automatically my voice spoke the next verse with intensity, "Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid."

My pacing was off if the next verse was the last in a group of three. "Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house."

I had moved to the edge of the platform.

I was compelled to leap into the air as my voice rang out, "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill."

I left the stage, moving down amongst the congregation. I had become a different person. There was clearly an agenda in the being that inhabited my body, but it was not mine. I had a view of myself as though I was sitting above the crowd looking down at that powerful figure.

The music had become an improvisation, supporting and promoting what was happening amongst the crowd. I had moved to the last row, and swung around compelled to reach out and touch someone. My eyes focused; it was Mary-Lou. She had turned white as a ghost and shrunk from my movement towards her.

But the power was still there, and it was building. I felt like the ball at the top of a lightning machine. I didn't have control, "it" did. Yet, I exercised a maximum of will power and moved away from her. On the opposite side of the aisle was a young man of perhaps 19 or 20. My arm extended toward him. The fingers of my right hand touched his forehead. The room exploded in a flash of white light. The boy was now flat on the floor, his long blonde hair contrasted with the dark color of the trampled saw dust.

I knelt beside him. His eyes opened and looked into mine. For just a moment our beings linked. For just a moment it was as though we were one. And in that moment, I suspect we knew all there was to know about the other. That feeling was frightening. Without ever having met him, I knew he had just slept with a girl by the name of June, and they were not married. But, I also knew that the exchange was bi-directional, and this young man knew as much about Jerry.

With that knowledge came concern. As I stood, his face expressed adoration, not surprise or disgust.

I looked towards the platform. Cowboy was standing, arms linked with Ho and Jew Boy. The entire mood was now being carried by them. The power had left me and was now permeating the atmosphere, slowly dissipating.

This experience had been far more stimulating that it had been in Macon. But in Macon, Ray and mama had been there to take over. I had marched up the precipice, leapt off into the unknown, and now there was no one there to take over. The rest of the service was up to me. What now?

Jackie must have sensed my dilemma, and began converting the mood from revival to song-fest. It didn't work. What ever should have come next did not. The crescendo of the event became like the blow out of a tire, and just as flat.

The newly built structure had collapsed. The architect didn't know what he was doing.

I tried to salvage the evening with a call for sinners. It again was the wrong thing to do.

People began to leave. Soon the tent was empty. The boys had left the stage. Only the blonde boy at the back had remained. I sat on a chair partly hidden by the podium. The boy stood, and started to leave, but must have changed his mind as he turned around and walked toward me.

"Johnny, what happened."

I didn't know, so I simply replied, "You were touched by the hand of God."

The boy looked oddly at me, as though he knew that I had spoken a trite phrase. "How long are you going to be in Little Rock?"

I explained our itinerary.

His eyes never left my face for a moment. That look of affection I had first noticed after the power had hit him had remained. I felt uncomfortable, I knew I did not deserve his devotion

He reached out, and shook my hand. It didn't seem appropriate. In silence, we continued to look at each other. Then he said, "It's getting late, I'm supposed to pickup my girl friend at work."

"Yes, it is getting late. June is waiting for you."

The boy looked at me, smiled, and said, "Cowboy is waiting for you."

As he walked towards the entrance I couldn't help but notice his stance, and his walk. He reminded me of a dancer. His buttocks were held close together, his gait was smooth, yet very masculine.

I wondered about his comment that "Cowboy" was waiting for me until I walked towards the rear of the stage. The tent flap was up, and Jerry was sitting astride the tongue of the trailer. It wasn't mysterious, it was only logical. The boy could see Jerry keeping me under surveillance. But then why had he used that special nickname; Cowboy. Again logic prevailed, how else would you describe someone dressed in levies, riding boots, and cowboy hat.

I could see Steven and Ho through the glass window of the trailer. Steven was putting tapes away, and straightening things up as the final chore of the day.

"The whole thing fell a part didn't it." Jerry's comment was not unexpected. It had fallen apart. "So who's the cutie you were talking to?"

"Haven't the faintest. But you're right, one good looking kid. Too bad I'm already taken."

The door to the trailer opened and closed. Ho joined us. "Where's Stack?"

We didn't know. Then Ho added his criticism by reinforcing Jerry's comment about the bad ending to our first revival meeting.

"Lets go for a walk." I thought a stroll might bring things into perspective. We crossed to the back of the lot, and headed for that spot where I had lost my virginity almost two years before. The idea of sitting quietly next to that little stream appealed to me. As we approached the line of trees which shielded our view from the water we heard passionate sounds. Of course I recognized them immediately as the sounds of a couple making love. We should have turned around, and left the lovers in privacy. But the idea of seeing a "live porno" was enticing so we approached. It was Ho who said "Oh Shit!", turned around and headed back to the tent. I looked closer, and realized it was Peter's bare bottom that was pushing up and down over a prone figure. I presumed Peter had finally made the grade with Mary-Lou.

I turned, and hurried along the path to catch up with Ho. "Danny, you are a real Jerk!"

Ho turned and looked at me with tears in his eyes. "You wouldn't say that if it had been Cowboy out there riding that fucking cow."

"No, you're probably right. Last year it did happen. It was Jerry and MaryLou. Peter and I caught them, then we were almost discovered by Gregory.

My story must have shaken loose Ho's self imposed immersion in the scene he had just witnessed.

"Danny, you above all, know that sex is just that. It isn't love. Fucking Mary-Lou has been a challenge for Peter long before he met you. And you know, damn well, that what they are doing isn't much more than whacking off."

We entered the tent, and sat in the front row, looking up at the empty stage.

Jerry changed the subject to the way the meeting had fallen apart. Ho mentioned the blonde boy, seeking more details. This was his first exposure to the "the Thing". He couldn't figure it out. He asked me what I had done to the boy. The best I could do was to ask him how he had felt before and after the incident. He described the excitement and the anticipation which had led to the climax. He also saw that expression of adoration on the young mans face, and said if he was Cowboy he wouldn't let me out of his sight. Jerry laughingly said he hadn't.

I was facing Ho. I could see Peter enter the tent, and walk up behind Danny. He put his arms around him, holding him tightly, and said, "God, I love the fuck out of you."

Ho tried to turn, but Stack held him in place. "Ever since I found out that I could do more with my dick than piss through it, I wanted to fuck MaryLou. Everyone else had, except me. Johnny got her. Cowboy got her. Everyone I know had gotten her. Well, tonight I finally got her. Sure wasn't what I thought it would be. Come on, you fuckin Ho, I've got about two feet of hard dick that can't wait another second." Peter grabbed Danny's hand and headed for the trailer.

The look on Danny's face was sheer heaven. Jerry said in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard in the back row, "Ain't Love Grand."