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.

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

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

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

1. 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.

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

3. 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.

4. 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."