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Subject: Mama was a Preacher  A Gay Love Story. Chapter 2A of A/B (M/M)
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Mama was a Preacher
Chapter Two-A of A/B
Fort Smith and beyond
Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved.

Though mother had made her decision to become the Reverend Gregory's 
assistant pastor, the actual seperation from the Crabtree community 
was a painful event.

We were both excited about "going on the road," but for different 
reasons. From her perspective this opportunity allowed her to serve 
god in a more fulfilling way. From mine, it was the adventure. To me 
going on the revival circuit was akin to joining the circus. There 
were tents, saw dust, and new people.

It hadn't even dawned on me that I would lose the most important 
person in my life. 

Wednesday mama got all our things packed away in the trailer, and 
Thursday she backed the car up to our home, connected the hitch, and 
made ready for our departure Friday.

We would park behind the revival tent Friday and Saturday nights, then 
Sunday everyone was expected to pitch in; tear down the tent, pack 
everything away, clean up the again vacant lot, visit the local 
churches Sunday, then depart for Fort Smith early Monday morning.

Thursday night Jerry and I spent our last night together at the river. 
We  cuddled around each other, sharing our appreciation. It was only 
then that we both began to realize what mama's decision meant to us. 

Jerry hugged me closer and kissed me. I could feel tears on his cheeks 
as his little tongue wetted my lips. We talked of his running away and 
joining our crusade, but we both knew that could not happen any more 
than if I wanted to stay with the Osbornes while mama was on the road. 

As we talked an idea began to form, and we decided to ask mama and the 
Osbornes if Jerry could come with us for the two weeks in Fort Smith. 

Mama said that it was a wonderful idea, but Mrs. Osborne was less 
enthusiastic.  In the end, it was agreed that if the Gregory's said 
OK, he could come with us. Then on the way from Fort Smith to Little 
Rock we would put him on the bus at Conway. He would hitch hike from 
Clinton to Crabtree.

This last minute decision meant that Jerry had to hurriedly get his 
things together, and put them in the trailer. 

The entire community had come by early Friday morning, lingering 
tearful good-bye's. Many of the families brought food for us to take 
on our travels. There was the ever present potato salad, three apple 
pies. Widow Smith brought a beautiful cake that she had decorated "We 
Love U," then in small letters that were almost illegible "please come 
back."

As we started to drive away, Mr. Osborne gave mama an envelope, and 
said "We took up a collection to help you with your travels." He then 
leaned over and kissed her firmly on the lips. Mama began to cry as 
she opened the envelope. It contained $175.00. One Hundred Seventy 
Five Dollars was a lot of money in that community; our neighbors had 
dug very deeply in their meager savings to donate that amount. 

My last memory of Crabtree came as I leaned out of the window, looking 
back at those wonderful people standing in the middle of that dirt 
road waving good-bye.

A revival meeting is good business for all the churches in a community. 
The routine of attending regularly scheduled services each and
every week becomes a bit dull. Each minister tries to liven things up 
a bit, putting as much creativity into his sermons as he can; but the 
same person conducting services to the same congregation week in and 
week out becomes something like driving a truck down a deeply rutted 
road: You could go to sleep at the wheel and still get to your
destination.


However revival meetings got things stirred up. The entire community 
joined together in the tent. People who had drifted away from the 
church were drawn back into it. Revival meetings improved attendance, 
gave the local ministers a break from their routines, and provided a 
fresh perspective for all.

Though the Gregory's took very little money to sustain themselves, the 
other expenses were heavy. Upon arrival in a new town, Mr. Gregory 
would visit each church, and with their help find a suitable vacant 
lot. It was necessary to advertise in the local newspaper, and that 
usually required money. Getting electricity installed, obtaining the 
necessary municipal permits, labor to wrestle the tent into position 
and hoist it, saw dust, piano rental, etc., etc. all required cash. Of 
course a collection was taken at each meeting. It was agreed that the 
local ministers would conduct a "Revival Meeting Thank You" collection 
on the last Sunday. The Gregory's would separate with each going to a 
different church to help with the collection. Before mama joined them 
they could only visit eight churches: two each Sunday morning, and two 
each Sunday night. Now with mama they could cover all of the churches 
and increase the length of time spent in promoting the collection; and 
of course that meant more money to help with the overwhelming expenses.


While merchandise, land rental, food, and even labor might be donated, 
gasoline was not. Now that mama was traveling with them, they needed 
gasoline for two vehicles, and at nearly twenty cents a gallon, that 
was a substantial and constant expense.

It wasn't until early Sunday morning that I got a look at the mechanics 
of a revival meeting. The Gregorys traveled in a big white bus,
that bore signs promoting god and tent meetings. The vehicle had been 
acquired from some school district, with the original yellow paint 
showing through in various places. The rear door had been widened so 
that the tent, poles, and chairs could be transported. There was a 
platform on the top of the bus that could be used for additional 
storage.  After they got to their destination, and unloaded, the bus 
then served as a place for them to live. 

Jerry and I were both thirteen, yet I could have passed for eleven, 
while Jerry could have passed for fifteen. Not only was he taller, and 
heavier than me, the constant work on the farm had filled out his 
chest and legs with firm, well toned muscles. His clothes were always 
handed down from his older brothers, and were usually too small for 
him, thus highlighting his well formed body. On the other hand I still 
had a bit of baby fat. My body was just now starting that adolescent 
growth. My legs were too long for my body. My dick had grown a little, 
but was no where near as big as Jerry's. A few pubic hairs had started 
to grow. My face couldn't seem to decide whether I was a teenager or 
pre-pubescent.

The sun had just begun to lighten the sky when the Gregorys rousted us 
from our beds and assigned Jerry and I the task of slowly loosening 
the ropes of the tent. They did the same thing on the other side, thus 
collapsing the canvas upon the ground.  The side panels had already 
been removed, and rolled into labeled bundles. While the top was also 
made of separate panels, it was raised and lowered as a single piece. 
If we were not careful in lowering the top, the weight could get away 
from us allowing it to rush downward, and possibly be damaged on the 
poles or stakes. It was hard work, and if it hadn't been for Jerry, I 
would have lost it.

Once the tent had been completely disassembled and stowed in the bus, 
the folding chairs had to be placed on top. Then we raked up the saw 
dust into piles and shoveled it into bags. It was important that we 
leave the vacant lot clean, and better than when the Gregorys had 
arrived if we intended to return to Clinton next year.

There were more than just the five of us as Reverend Gregory had 
recruited several husky farmers who had responded to the call for 
sinners during last nights services.

This work was completed before eleven o'clock. Mama, Jerry, and I were 
to visit both the Church of God and the Nazarene to help with their 
"Thank You" collections. We were given four hand embroidered collection 
bags that read "Helping to Spread the word of God," and it was
these bags that were passed down the aisles amongst the congregation.

We had been told that it was important that we were there as a support 
to the church's own minister. Their congregation would be more giving 
when the request came from their pastor. Mama suggested that Jerry and 
I contribute a Capella duet during the actual collection. At the 
conclusion, all she would need to do is to give a short message of 
"Thank You," before we departed.

That afternoon we five gathered in our trailer and counted the
offerings. 
We had collected almost twice what the Gregorys had. Again,
about 11 o'clock that night we again compared the evenings "Thank You" 
collections. We had collected much more than Mr. and Mrs. Gregory.  
Clearly, our Capella duet was having an effect on the congregations.

It was well past midnight when we finally got to sleep. Both Jerry and 
I were excited about the effect our singing was having. Mama said it 
was the hand of the lord, trying to show us a better way to serve him. 
But we knew that it was our love for each other that was the
inspiration. 
Looking back we all might have been correct, as the lord proves
repeatedly that he moves in mysterious ways.

Even though Fort Smith was less than 150 miles from Clinton, the 
Gregorys had us "up and on the road" before day light. We traveled 
south to Conway, then west toward Fort Smith, passing through Van 
Buren in mid morning.

The "next revival" was never more than 200 miles away. This gave the 
Gregorys the opportunity of scouting the next city before leaving the 
present one. A vacant lot had been rented from a local banker, Mr. 
Hiram Nickdeman; he also owned several movie theaters, and Radio 
Station KWHN. Nickdeman had resisted the reverends attempts to donate 
the use of the lot, but had agreed to our being a guest on our favorite 
live music show, "The Morning Gospel Hour.

The vacant lot was located half way between downtown Fort Smith and an 
Army Base. Mr. Gregory was certain that many soldiers and their families 
stationed at the base would attend our meetings.

It took most of the day to unload the bus. Mr. Gregory gave us a 
drawing showing just where each piece should be placed. Each bundle 
was labeled, and those labels were also on the drawing.

It took both Jerry and me to carry each panel, and still it seemed to 
drag in the middle. Eventually we had the whole thing laid out. 

Next came putting ropes on the poles. Then with the help of 3 big 
black men the two center poles were hoisted high into the air. 

It was almost sunset before we had everything in its place.  The tent 
was up, the ropes had been staked into the ground, the saw dust had 
been spread, the platform had been assembled, and even the chairs were 
now in straight rows.

We were exhausted. That had been hard work.  Watching Jerry move 
about, his muscles bulging from his too tight shirt and pants made it 
all worth while.  His smile was a constant reminder that he enjoyed 
being with me as much as I enjoyed being with him.

Mother fixed dinner for us all. She had made a beef stew, rich with 
potatoes, carrots, and celery.

During dinner Mrs. Gregory explained that promotion was free
advertising, 
and that it was necessary that we work together in spreading the
word about the revival. We could do a lot more now that there were 
five of us.  In the past, the Gregorys would usually sing at churches, 
picnics, sing outs, or even on street corners. The KWHN "Morning 
Gospel Hour" was an unusual opportunity.  

The good Reverend had a deep baritone voice. His wife's voice was just 
a shade higher in pitch. The tone of Jerry's voice was much higher, 
with mine being the highest; almost a soprano. Mama fell about halfway 
between Mrs. Gregory and Jerry.

However, despite the richness of the baritone voice, his vocal cords 
were not very stable. His range was limited, less than 6 notes, with 
the upper end wavering in pitch.  He would try to compensate for that 
by switching keys in those upper registers to the lower end of the 
same octave.  His wife would try to cover for him by increasing the 
volume of her singing; but if they sang more than one duet anyone 
would rapidly catch on to the fact that the Reverend Raymond Gregory 
was not a very good singer. 

Ruth (Mrs. Gregory) mentioned that we were all to be guests on the 
radio tomorrow morning. The program was broadcast live from the KWHN 
studios between 11:30 and 12:30.  We were to sing only one song, but 
she figured if we were really good, they would ask us to sing more. So 
Monday night we rehearsed until almost midnight.

Tuesday started very early. Mother made pancakes for everyone. Ruth 
and Ray were already seated at our small table when Jerry and I woke.  

We were not happy about the sleeping arrangements. We couldn't sleep 
naked, and even our wrapping around each other seemed untoward. Now, 
this morning, the Gregorys were seated less than five feet from where 
we were trying to hide under the covers.

Ruth had heard a new gospel number on the radio and wanted us to try 
it. She could not express herself by voice as well as she could on the 
keyboard, so shortly we took our pancakes and milk out to the tent. 

"I Believe in Miracles" sounded vaguely familiar. This early morning 
music started our day with a bounce. Our youthful voices wanted to 
explode into the universe. It was only the piano that kept us bridled 
to the real world. Then as with a jockey on his horse, Ruth let out on 
the reigns allowing Jerry and me to gallop away, taking the number 
where we wanted it to go. Mother, Ruth, and Ray were providing vocal 
backup. It was exhilarating.

We were told to be at the KWHN Studios in the 400 block of Garrison by 
10:00. The Morning Gospel Hour was a daily, live, radio show organized 
by the stations program director. 

There were several local singing ensembles, that competed with each 
other to produce the show on a week to week basis. Transient gospel 
groups would be featured, but when they were unavailable the locals 
would provide the talent. If one of the transient groups were going to 
be in town for a full week, the radio show would be turned over to 
them.

We parked our car directly in front of the KWHN Studios. The station 
was on the second floor of a two story building, with the ground floor 
being occupied by a record store.

The top of the stairs ended in a large office. We were greeted by 
Howard Harvey, the stations Program Director. He guided us through a 
door that faced the top of the stairs, and into their studio. 

The room was square, and only about 15 foot across. To the left was a 
large plate glass window through which you could see a DJ talking into 
a microphone and spinning records. There were four rows of folding 
chairs.

Harvey introduced us to a young fellow sitting at the piano. His name 
was Jackie Marshall. He wasn't much older than Jerry's brother Todd. 
He was dressed in tan slacks and a light brown tee shirt. His hair was 
a dark brown, cut short. He was larger and heavier than Jerry, but not 
nearly as big as Todd. 

Jackie was in charge of this week's program. He and Ruth discussed the 
selection that we intended to present. Jackie explained that we would 
only sing, and he would tell the radio audience about the revival 
meeting.

Ruth replaced Jackie at the piano and we performed one of the numbers 
we had rehearsed Monday night, "Give me that Old Time Religion."

Jerry and I were really warmed up. Our youthful exuberance literally 
wrestled control from the others.

Jackie looked surprised, then suggested that Ruth join the others and 
he would play the piano ... just for the moment to see how it would 
sound.

Within the first four bars of the song we knew why Jackie was a piano 
player. His hands moved across that keyboard so fast that they were a 
blur. The written music was only a guide to where he was going, not on 
how to get there. He also never relinquished control. The sounds from 
his piano always led to where we wanted to go, but also kept us
restrained. 
Then he would unleash our spirits at points where he knew it
would be the most effective.

At eleven o'clock the other members of Jackie's group arrived. Our 
party was seated in the front row. At eleven fifteen the studio doors 
were opened for anyone who wanted to see the show. And by air time all 
seats were occupied.

Jackie's group, the "Hamlen Brothers," were a quartet who traveled the 
gospel circuit performing at schools, churches, and any other place in 
which they might be welcome. 

They opened the program with "Swing Low Sweet Chariot," then introduced 
our group by telling the radio audience that we were part of the
Revival Meeting located on Rogers Avenue close to Fort Chafee.

We replicated our performance of "Give me that Old Time Religion" with 
resounding success. Our studio audience clapped and stomped their feet 
yelling "more...  more." 

Without prompting, Ruth leaned into the microphone and asked Jackie, 
"Do you know 'I Believe in Miracles'." 

Not only did he know the song, he made Ruth sound like a beginner at 
the piano. In just this short time he had developed a relationship 
with Jerry and me that again allowed him to "produce" what he wanted. 
And what he wanted was exactly where we would have wanted to be if we 
had been given the opportunity to think about it.

Instead of the show allowing us to give a single sample of our talents, 
Jackie, extemporaneously, featured our music for the entire
hour. 

During that hour we had sung everything we knew. The audience had 
eagerly participated. I am not exactly sure how he did it, but Jackie 
had allowed Jerry and I to solicit, and then exercise control over 
that small audience while still guiding the program to its exciting 
conclusion at 12:30.

When that red "On the Air Light" went out, Jackie, Jerry and I were 
soaked to the skin. 

All of a sudden, I realized, it was no longer just "Jerry and me," it 
had become a threesome. Wow!

Mr. Harvey came into the studio to tell Jackie that he had a telephone 
call, and then thanked us for coming.

We discussed the radio show all the way back to the tent. It was 
pretty obvious that Jackie Marshall was an outstanding pianist. 

Reverend Gregory needed to prepare his evening sermon for tonight's 
"Opening" meeting. Mother was to close the meeting, then tomorrow 
night she would be the speaker. Ruth, Jerry and I needed to concentrate 
on learning and rehearsing new songs. Today's broadcast had used
all of the material we knew. 

Reverend Gregory and mother decided to study in the bus, while Ruth, 
Jerry and I assembled at the piano. Ruth wanted to concentrate on 
"Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling" for the call for sinners at the 
end of the evening. We had sung this many times, but she felt that we 
needed to make this come more from the heart, and less from our 
mouths. 

At 4:30 Jackie Marshall came into the tent asking Ruth if he could be 
part of tonight's service. That surprise offer had the two of us 
grinning from ear to ear.  We both liked Jackie ... and that obviously 
was a two way street.

She asked if we would like a glass of cold lemonade during our practice, 
and then left the three of us to our own devices while she went
to the bus to prepare the drinks.

Jerry and I placed chairs on each side of the piano stool where we 
could watch Jackie play.

We had practiced until the evening services were about to begin, and 
by then had consumed three pitchers of lemonade.

People began to come into the tent; just a few at first, but soon 
every seat in the tent was occupied. The Reverend Gregory mounted the 
platform. He laid his bible on the podium, opened it, and adjusted his 
spectacles. Looking down at the good book his fist came down with a 
bang as his voice thundered, "And when the people complained, it 
displeased the LORD: and the LORD heard it; and his anger was kindled; 
and the fire of the LORD burnt among them, and consumed them that were 
in the uttermost parts of the camp."

Every eye was riveted to stage. Then very gently, he added, "But in 
the book of Psalms we find these words: Let all those that put their 
trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou 
defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee."
 
"Oh brethren, Sing unto the LORD, O ye saints of His, and give thanks 
at the remembrance of His holiness. For His anger endureth but a 
moment; in His favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy 
cometh in the morning."

In the background Ruth's voice could be heard singing "He's got the 
Whole World in his Hands." Jackie added single notes from the piano as 
she motioned for Jerry and I to join her. As we added our voices, 
underscoring the Reverend's words of love and joy, Jackie's piano 
added more structure. Ruth moved to the front of the stage as Ray sat 
down. We invited the congregation to join us in song.
   
Again, that now familiar experience was happening. The audience, Ruth, 
Jackie, Jerry and I were building an emotional adventure founded on 
The Reverend's words compounding this shared encounter into a single 
homogeneous event. 

It was almost like stirring one of those giant out door kettles, as 
the mixture combined into a compound whose ingredients became
inseparable 
from the whole.

Once every person in that tent had become part of this process, The 
good Reverend resumed his stance behind the podium, again powerfully 
quoting from the bible, building a cadence of crescendo followed by 
peace and quiet.

Again, the event embraced music and song. As the evening progressed 
the episodic valleys became deeper, the peaks higher; the emotions 
stronger, the total participation more and more involved. 

You could feel the shared experience build and build toward an 
indescribably powerful happening like riding a tidal wave into a 
crowded beach.

People in the audience were shouting and jumping up and down with joy. 
Ray moved from the platform down among the congregation, as he passed 
a young man he placed his hands on his forehead. The lad seemed to be 
propelled backward from the touch as he sank to the saw dust floor. It 
happened repeatedly as he simply touched one after another.

Perspiration was literally pouring from Ray's face as he returned to 
the stage. His shirt was as wet as though he had been standing in a 
shower, and his face was as red as though he had spent the entire day 
in the summer sun.

Mother came to the front of the stage as Ray retired to a chair behind 
the podium. The service was now moving toward the end with the call 
for sinners to come to the altar. Ruth, Jerry, Jackie and I added our 
voices in song.

And that was what happened Tuesday night.

Jackie invited Jerry and I to participate in the daily broadcasts, and 
in turn he became a steady member of the revival.

Each night the experiences were similar, yet distinctive. Every night 
all seats were occupied.  Some people were repeats, but many were 
first timers. 

Something else was happening:  Jackie became our teacher.  He stripped 
away the mumbo jumbo and explained the mesmeretic affect that was 
building these powerfully affective services. In analyzing these 
performances we could better understand what was occurring, and with 
that understanding came the ability to use those techniques to achieve 
the results we worked toward.

The two weeks passed very quickly. 

The "Hamlen Brothers" were playing a concert in Memphis, and were 
leaving Fort Smith the day before our scheduled departure.

Jackie suggested to mama that he drive Jerry to Crabtree as it was 
less than 50 miles out of his way.  It would not only save bus fare, 
but Jerry wouldn't have to hitch hike from Clinton. She thought that 
was a great idea. Then, almost as an after thought, Jackie suggested 
that I accompany them. We would spend the night with the Osbornes, and 
then meet our revival group in Little Rock the following day.

Jackie arrived just before noon to pick us up. Both Ray and Ruth 
hugged Jerry, telling how much they were going to miss him. They even 
suggested that he join them next summer.

Then it was really good-bye. The three of us sat in the front seat, 
with me in the middle.

"John, I'm glad your mama said you could come along as I've got 
something to say to the both of you." Jackie patted me on the knee. 
"In a real short time you are going to have a bull by the tail."

Both Jerry and I looked as confused as we were.

----------End Chapter 2-A of A/B-------

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