Mama was a Preacher
Chapter Sixteen. 
Fin
Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved.

The four hour drive from El Centro to West Hollywood was a mixture of 
moods. There was excitement and proposals about building the new television 
production facility. But there was also a spirit of unhappiness being 
injected by the twins. 

The discovery of the boys duplicity by Carmen made them realize the 
selfishness of their deeds. No amount of moralistic lectures could have done 
more.

Usually the boys were a constant vocal presence. Their silence was as much  
a statement of their depression as would have been a flow of tears.

Philip was the only one of our group who tried to comfort the lads. The 
rest of us felt the boys got their just desserts. But considering the noisy 
night that Tommy had had with Philip his support came as no surprise.

Only Robbie was strangely silent on the issue of the twins misdeeds. I 
suspected that the kids were really going to be in for it once they were by 
themselves.

Over the course of the years Robbie had been quiet about sexual matters. It 
was obvious that he did not suffer from the high degree of sexual appetite 
displayed by the majority of his peers. He probably never understood the 
lustful force that drove most boys through puberty.

I made a mental note to give Robbie a copy of an old 19th century English 
limerick that I had filed away titled "Forty and Fourteen":

"She lusted after the young ones, this dowager of 40;
whose ample bosom and girth certainly made her portly.

"Her gardener had a tender son of just fourteen;
an age which she thought made him ripe for courting.

"He would help his father pull the short weeds;
showing his buns and enticing her needs.

"One day the father who was old became sick,
she felt sure this day the boy's cock she would lick.

"Oh! Young man, come here and bring me some posies;
she had in mind playing with something, and it wasn't his toseys.

"So straight and so strong, so muscular and dark
his cock in her she was sure he would park.

"A young virgin must he be.
Not for long she would see.

"She wanted the flowers put next to her bed;
so it t'was there to which she him led.

"Oh, young man, under the bed my ring it did fall;
so under her play pin did the boy crawl.

"She kneeled along side him, her hand on his butt;
his dick grew so hard it created a rut.

"Surrendering your virginity whether ninety or nine
is any boys fantasy and hope for all time.

"While under the bed, on his back he did turn,
and the size of his tool the lady did learn.

"She unbuckled his trousers, sliding them down
his face still hidden, with the rest of him she did clown.

"Pushing his shaft into her furrow,
deeper and deeper did he thus burrow.

"Within a short time his climax he did reach;
oh what a day, and so much yet to teach.

"A tender young boy under the bed she did urge
a wiser young man from under the bed did emerge."

A smile crept across my lips as I remembered those words, realizing just 
how well the author had captured that spirit of a boy's developing sexuality. 
Those youthful years were innocent yet there was an urgency that demanded 
the display of their proud manhood. All the world must recognize 
that they had reached that plateau beyond which they would no longer be 
children.

Robbie's comment made years ago, "Only Schmucks play with their Schmucks," 
stated quite succinctly his lack of understanding about the drive which 
powered that march through puberty.

I resolved to have a private discussion with him before he confronted the 
twins.

This clash between male and female sexuality displayed the twins lack of 
understanding. No boy could feel the betrayal that Carmen must have felt. 
She was a casualty of this adolescent escapade. To the boys it was the 
ultimate in adventure: covert, collusive, the incredible feelings swelling 
up within their guts pushing its way into their nuts, and penis; the 
indescribable feelings of the cock head as it absorbed heat and tactile 
stimulation. A boy's encounter with sex always started as a fantasy centered 
around his genitals. The female path to sexual desires is the  antithesis 
of the males. Her interest in sex does not start between her legs, but 
rather is cushioned within her emotions. It comes from romanticism. Yet 
there is also another need that must be satisfied. That need is not the 
sensory one that drives the male. Instead it is a need to exercise control. 
Where a boy's need on that plateau is one of advertising his ability to 
procreate, the girl's need on that same plateau is to demonstrate her 
ability to control the male.

Carmen's loss of domination robbed her of the purpose of her copulation as 
much as though she had been raped. No male can understand how a woman feels 
when she has been taken advantage of. Boys do not understand the trauma a 
woman experiences when she has been raped. Presume a prostitute sells her 
body for $20.00. Logically, then if she is forced to submit, the loss 
should be the same as though someone robbed her of $20.00.  Yet it is not 
the same. The damage goes beyond the ability of the male to understand. The 
need to retain control is at the root of a woman's existence. A woman 
loosing control is in the same league as a man being castrated.  It is the 
reason that when men seek a divorce, women will project hate to the point 
of using their children to damage their former spouse.

But Carmen must suffer alone. She had no one with whom she could confide. 
The priest from whom she might seek council and comfort is a male who if 
subjected to hearing her tale would most likely develop an erection 
fantasizing the scenes from the twins point of view. He would be hard pressed 
not to let his hand slip below his holy robes to satisfy his personal 
needs.

Those several days in El Centro started a chain of events that became self 
propelled.

After a few days of concentrated searching by everyone in our group, a 
piece of property was located in the western part of the San Fernando 
valley near the tiny community of Tarzana. The building had been a super 
market which could not survive the competition of new Safeway and Ralph's 
markets only a few blocks away.

The market had been the center piece of an anticipated shopping center. The 
death of the market had also been the death of the shopping center.

Robbie negotiated a purchase where the present owner financed the sale and 
held a Trust Deed on the property.  In addition the owner demanded a pledge 
of additional security. I proposed that we pledge the Little Rock account. 
A telephone call to Judge Jackson in Clinton Okayed the arrangement. My 
name was the only one on the Little Rock account even though control was 
maintained by Jackson. The status would survive a credit investigation.

The next eight weeks were hectic; filled with hard work and truck trips to 
and from El Centro. We could not allow the move of equipment and construction 
of the production facility to interfere with our other responsibilities. 
We still had the weekly tapings at KTLA. Sunshine was working eight 
to ten hours a day at Paramount, as well as pastoring the Sunday services 
at the church.

Ho and the mission group recruited a number of street kids to help with the 
construction work. The opportunity to work rather than hustle was a momentary 
diversion. The kids could make a hundred dollars a night working 
Sunset and Santa Monica Boulevards. Even being generous we could not 
compete. Nevertheless they seemed to thrive in this more productive 
enterprise. The opportunity to talk openly about their sexual escapades 
provided an avenue of social acceptance with no need to guard their emotions 
from stones being thrown by society.

We would send a truck to El Centro each day with six to eight people to 
dismantle equipment and move it to Tarzana. The crew were mostly street 
kids under the supervision of either Danny or Philip. Most of the lads were 
good looking. Their attire had been chosen to entice customers; usually 
tight fitting jeans, form fitting shirts, no underwear, and the ability to 
return an appreciative glance. This daily import of hot teen males did not 
go unnoticed by the high school girls of El Centro. Even though the school 
was on the other end of Main Street, girls suddenly found a reason to walk 
by and linger at the station as the boys showed their muscles, their bodies 
straining against the restrictions of their clothing.

One day I joined the morning trip, to help with the disassembly and 
loading. 

Around noon I noticed Carmen walking past the station. She was alone; not 
part of a group. I asked her to walk with me. We found a shaded picnic 
table. I needed to let her know that I understood how the twins had hurt 
her, and tried to explain the difference between male and female sexuality. 
At first my directness embarrassed her. But it was important that she know 
the accuracy of my facts. Thus, I explained how I had been trapped in the 
control room during the initial stages of her romantic episode with Tommy.

She understood, in her mind, what I was saying. That did not satisfy the 
needs of her heart. Yet she asked about the twins, and despite the hurt 
still was interested. She said that Alfredo had asked her to find out if he 
could help with our work, and maybe even return with us to Tarzana. Of 
course I told her we could use all of the help we could get.

During the next week Alfredo arrived on the truck from El Centro. Danny had 
been the supervisor. He brought a small duffel bag, a sleeping bag, and his 
guitar. At least for the moment it was his intent to stay awhile, and 
expected to sleep at the work site.

The following day was Philip's turn to supervise El Centro. On his arrival 
in Tarzana he was surprised to discover Alfredo. Reluctantly he departed 
with his team, but not without first asking Alfredo to have dinner with him 
when he returned that night.

Alfredo's first day seemed to make him uncomfortable. The free wheeling 
speech of the others about dating and sex left him out of the conversation. 
The boys would make off color jokes about dick sucking and ass fucking 
which Alfredo could not associate with reality, and thus could not find 
humorous. If anything the general trend in conversation embarrassed him.

An occasional appreciative glance from the others added to his discomfort.

Danny soon realized the problem and assigned the Mexican youth tasks where 
he worked by himself.

Philip had been eager to return to Tarzana in anticipation of his diner 
date. He immediately sought the boy out upon his return. 

Within a short time everyone, except Alfredo, had guessed the basis for 
Philip's interest, and kept silent. 

The unloading had gone quickly with both teams pitching in.

Alfredo may have suspected, in a general sort of way, the reason for Philip's
deference, however Phil represented a safer harbor so he gravitated 
toward his host.

Diner that night was at Michel's. The red wine coupled with the good food, 
put them both in a good mood. While Tarzana was closer to Hollywood than 
Decker  Canyon  it was in the opposite direction, so despite a feeling of 
uneasiness he accepted Phil's invitation to spend the night at the ranch. 
Sleeping in a bed rather than in a sleeping bag on a cold concrete slab may 
have weighed in favor of his decision.

While Philip was paying the check Alfredo walked across the street and 
began browsing through magazines at a sidewalk news stand. He had found one 
over which he was lingering. The merchant told him he must buy the 
publication if he wanted to read it. It was then that Philip joined them, 
and paid for it. It was an adult magazine featuring naked women. While not 
pornographic, it left nothing to the imagination.

The Mexican youth was somewhat shamed by Philip's discovery of his interest 
in the sex book. However once in the station wagon he began leafing through 
the pages of color photographs.

Phil made no comments, other than to acknowledge the "Thank you."

As they drove towards Santa Monica, the street lights created a strobe 
effect preventing further reading.

Phil asked what kind of beer the boy liked. Alfredo said his favorite was 
Millers with a shot of tequila, so they stopped at a roadside market on 
Pacific Coast Highway and picked up two 6-packs of Miller and a pint of 
"Montezuma Gold."

At the ranch Alfredo proceeded to get blotto while leafing through the 
magazine.

Phil had gone into the kitchen for two more bottles of beer, and upon 
returning discovered his guest with a huge erection tenting his trousers. 
The boy looked up in embarrassment, and moved the magazine to cover his 
protruding member.

Philip sat back down and asked if he could look at the pictures. Shortly 
they both had unhidden boners.

Both of them being aroused by looking at naked women created a feeling of 
camaraderie where, over a short period of time, their surreptitious dick 
massaging became less surreptitious.

At almost the same time they needed to relieve themselves of beer, and 
jointly pissed in the toilet. At first the piss seemed slow to come. Both 
cocks were semi erect. Alfredo's had not been circumcised, while Philip's 
was. The difference seemed to attract the others attention. They stood 
there once the streams had stopped shaking their pricks free of any drops 
of urine. The toilet was almost full of piss. Phil reached for the handle 
to flush, and as he did so his elbow brushed Alfredo dick. The contact 
caused the tool to pulse. Flustered he tried to put his stiffening member 
back into his pants. Once concealed an attempt to close his zipper almost 
ended in disaster. Phil remarked that he wasn't even going to try and left 
his fly open.

Back in the living room they continued their drinking until both the beer 
and tequila were gone.

Unexpectedly, Alfredo followed Phil into his bedroom and flopped down on 
the bed. Phil always slept naked, so without even thinking about it he 
removed his clothes and laid down along side of his guest. In the dim light 
Phil could see Alfredo's hard cock protruding through the open fly of his 
jeans.

The alcohol lulled both host and guest to sleep. 

The next morning Phil woke with a nasty headache. Alfredo was naked and 
wrapped around his host. He looked carefully for signs of sexual activity 
and could find none. Quietly he rose from the bed and went to the kitchen. 

He brewed a pot of coffee, and heated some donuts. Alfredo, still zipping 
his jeans sat down at the breakfast table and asked if there were any 
Aspirin.

They still had a hangover as they drove toward Tarzana. Neither spoke of 
the previous night, but Alfredo seemed much more comfortable with Phil. 
Phil began to wonder if the Mexican youth might like living at the ranch; 
he might become an excellent lover. Maybe.

During our Friday tapings we promoted the new facility, asking for both 
physical and financial help. Each successive broadcast targeted the move, 
inviting viewers to become part of the telecasts once production originated 
in Tarzana.

The weeks rolled by, and we bid farewell to Claus and the gang at KTLA.

The turn out for our first telecast was phenomenal. The new building could 
seat more than five hundred people; from the very beginning it was standing 
room only for those that were not an hour early.

A telephone call from Clinton put a damper on the otherwise successful 
ministry. The Christian Coalition had filed a class action law suit in 
federal court claiming that we were misusing the funds. They had found five 
contributors to Gregory's ministry who had executed affidavits stating that  
their gifts had been for The Revival Hour ministry not "That California 
Circus." They wanted the funds transferred to the Christian Coalition.

As part of the suit the court had authorized a Deposition and issued a 
Subpoena duces tecum for the financial records of the Revival Hour.

The good reverend had not put bookkeeping high on his agenda so the records 
were sketchy; almost non-existent.

Jackson felt that the Coalition was more interested in stopping our use of 
the money than to use it themselves.  So if that was their objective, they 
had already succeeded as a federal injunction had been issued preventing 
further withdrawals pending the hearing by the court. It seemed unlikely 
the Coalition would let the case go forward for at least a year, maybe 
longer. The decision to use the Little Rock account as a pledge had been a 
good one. It didn't touch the money. The pledge had been exercised before 
the filing of the law suit. The status quo would only be challenged if we 
were unable to keep our commitment in the purchase of the Tarzana property.

The obligations I assumed requiring monthly payments to Herb Rosen in El 
Centro, and to a John & Helen Tompkins for the real estate placed a pressure 
on me to adhere to more accepted religious doctrine. 

I was in an emotional crossfire. On one side of me were the facts that kept 
unfolding which proved beyond a doubt that what I was preaching was hog 
wash. On the other side was the need to attract more and more believers to 
support our expanding goals.

The discoveries coming from the research foundation kept supporting and 
expanding a new outlook on what God was and how our people could enhance 
their lives by understanding those facts.

Each expansion brought with it a need for further personal and financial 
commitment. My immersion in work and obligation forced an isolation which 
separated me from those that I loved. Only Cowboy knew what was happening 
to me. Despite the wall that was being built around me, I kept to my pledge 
of being in bed by midnight.

It was only those loving hours in the safe harbor of my lover that anchored 
my existence in reality.

Even Jackie, and the twins began to move in an orbit only slightly affected 
by my presence, yet I was the central point of those orbits.

Others assumed more and more responsibility as the mechanical processes of 
our ministry grew. 

We moved through distribution by video tape, into distribution via satellite. 
The new technique was instantaneous, and even though time on one of 
the birds was expensive, it still was cheaper and faster than video tape.

My work in Tarzana changed very little as each service was still video 
taped, edited, and subjected to post production before being uplinked to a 
satellite.

Our network of stations mushroomed. The dollar amounts needed, and being 
received were astronomical. 

We were considering the full time lease of a satellite transponder. It 
would cost $50,000 per month, plus a capitol out lay of almost a quarter 
million dollars for the uplink equipment. The amounts were staggering, yet 
making that commitment would reduce our yearly expenditures, and pay for 
itself within the first year.

With little additional effort, and with only a small increase in overall 
cost, we created and expanded a radio network. While we simulcasted in many 
of the television markets, the radio network also broadcast our message in 
small towns across the United States and Canada.

Jackie suggested that I do a remote in Chicago. The new audience would be a 
change, enhancing our productions. The improvement would also bring in 
needed funds.

Soon it was no longer unexpected to find myself before congregations in 
Chicago, New York, London, Paris, or Italy.

Hearing a strange voice repeat my words in a foreign tongue in non-English 
speaking countries was interesting. The delayed reaction at first disrupted 
my timing, but soon I got the hang of it.

"Far Eastern Broadcasting", a missionary group with short-wave radio stations 
in the Philippines, Taiwan, and Thailand, approached us about carrying 
our programming.

After considerable debate, I rejected the offer. The conservative Protestant 
group obtained its support from main stream churches. Once the Christian 
Coalition learned of the association there would be substantial pressure 
on the group to disassociate itself with us. However, there was merit 
in the idea of having our own short wave stations. I suggested that Peter 
contact his brother Steven in Atlanta to explore the feasibility.

A tight group began to form around me, isolating me from the news media, 
except under tightly controlled conditions; Jackie (The Boss), Jerry 
(Cowboy), Danny (Ho), Peter (Stack), and Robbie (Jew Boy).

The Christian Coalition joined with the Los Angeles Council of Churches in 
an attempt to reduce my impact on the changing business of religion.

A telephone call from Judge Jackson informed me that the Christian Coalition 
was ready to proceed with the class action suit. A second Deposition 
had been scheduled together with a Subpoena duces tecum for the financial 
records of the Revival Hour including all expenditures since the death of 
Raymond Gregory.

Jackson advised me to attend the Deposition, if I didn't, the federal court 
would most likely decide the case in favor of the Christian Coalition, and 
the three million dollars would be transferred to Virginia Beach. If I 
agreed, protocol gave me the option of having the Deposition held in Southern 
California. Jackson, however, did not want to leave Arkansas. I could 
hire another attorney in California to represent me during the inquiry, or 
we could have the Deposition in Jackson's office in Clinton ...  My choice.

My choice was Jackson's office.

Most travel those days were as part of an entourage. However, this was to 
be a quick trip: A red eye flight into Little Rock on a Tuesday morning, 
and a red eye back to Los Angeles the same night.

Cowboy and I tried to get some sleep during Monday, but it seemed that 
problems which only one of us could solve kept disrupting our naps. At ten 
thirty we left for Los Angeles International Airport. I took only my brief 
case with an electric razor and a copy of my records on the Little Rock 
bank account.

The soft top on the MG did little to keep me warm. Jerry kept fumbling with 
the heater control, and finally got that working. Then the MG turned into a 
Sauna.

He dropped me in front of the TWA entrance. He was to pick me up Wednesday 
morning at eight.

The check-in for the flight went very fast. Not many people were traveling 
east at that time of night.

The airline crew were too happy and energetic for that early hour. Trying 
to ignore their exuberance I pushed my seat back and tried to doze. About 
the time I succeeded an announcement came over the loudspeakers, "Please 
place your seats in an upright position, and prepare for departure."

As fifty or so robotic passengers followed the instructions, the aircraft 
began to move. After what seemed to be an eternity the plane lifted off of 
the tarmac and we were permitted to push our seats back a few inches. 
Again, I had achieved the impossible and began to doze, but then the speakers 
ordered us to let the attendants know if we wanted coffee, tea, or 
soda. The old TWA joke flashed through my mind, "I'll have TWAT(ea)."

My watch read 3 AM as I felt the wheels impact on the Little Rock runway. 
Awfully damned early. Then I remembered it was 3 hours later. 

Some of Robbie's frugalness must have rubbed off on me, as I ignored the 
high priced offers of coffee in the terminal.

The sun had just begun to lighten the morning sky as I picked up the rental 
car at Avis. Clinton was just a little over two hours away. 

As males tend to do, I headed directly toward Conway, not willing to detour 
for the pleasure of breakfast.

Traffic began to get heavy as I approached Conway. The early morning rush 
to work was in progress. I reached down to the radio, and turned it on. It 
was tuned to KLRA. The Wisers were still doing their "Breakfast Show." It 
seemed to me that Junior was faking a "youthful voice", reminiscent of 
those awful juvenile impressions Dick Crenna gave in the roll of Walter 
Denton on "Our Miss Brooks". Those portrayals had been almost comical as  
Crenna had begun the roll on radio then tried to carry the character 
through to television. He was taller than Eve Arden, and much older than 
the boy he depicted. 

Jackson had scheduled the Deposition for nine AM. I questioned the earliness 
of the hour, and he said it was to make it as inconvenient as possible 
for the attorneys flying in from the east coast. 

It was quarter of nine when I pulled up in front of the old brick courthouse 
in Clinton. Jackson's office was just a block away.

I had expected to meet him at his office and then walk back to the courthouse 
for the hearing.  I hadn't realized that a Deposition was a hearing 
held between attorneys out of the presence of a judge. A court reporter 
would be present, and witnesses would testify under oath.

The lawyers for the Christian Coalition were already in Jackson's office. 
They had arrived in Clinton the night before. I gained solace in the 
thought that they had been forced to sleep on the lumpy beds of the Blue 
Bonnet Motel.

During the Deposition I was asked a few questions, but nothing worth the 
trip from California. They seemed disappointed in the accounting records. I 
had spent less than three hundred dollars. 

At 10:30 they took an hours break to inspect Gregarious skimpy records more 
closely. In the privacy of another office I asked about Ruth. Jackson told 
me she was in poor health. She had gone down hill since my mother's death. 
Warren had become full time pastor at Crabtree. He told me that he had kept 
the class action suit from her.

When the hearing was reconvened the eastern lawyers became more aggressive 
in their questioning. There was a $45,000 discrepancy between the amount in 
the account at Gregory's death, and the amount currently in the bank.

Jackson told them that that was the amount used to build the church in 
Crabtree.

By one o'clock we were finished. This month was Jackson's turn to play 
judge in Clinton, and he had hearings scheduled at two. So I bid him good-bye, and drove up to Crabtree. My flight wasn't scheduled for departure 
until Eleven.

The road had been improved. It was now a two lane paved highway; a far cry 
from my memory of following in the dusty wake of the hearse bearing mama.

I almost over shot the tiny dirt path that lead into the cemetery. I pulled 
over to the side of the road, crossed and climbed the hill to the tiny 
grave yard.

The grave stones were buried in a sea of tall brown weeds. I made my way to 
her last resting place. The marker was dirty and worn by wind and rain. "Hi 
Mama." I whispered outloud. In reply there was only the sound of gusts of 
wind.

I walked back to the car and continued to Crabtree. Ruth was surprised to 
see me. She had been pulling weeds along the front of the church. Of course 
she was curious as to the purpose of my visit. I explained that I needed to 
sign some documents for Judge Jackson. Also I wanted to see Todd, and find 
out when he was returning to California. I thought that he, Peter, and 
Steven might make a good team for the feasibility study of the short wave 
broadcasting project.

Ruth told me that Todd was courting a young lady who had recently moved to 
Clinton, and that everyone expected them to marry within the year.

I kissed her good-bye and drove up the dirt road to the Osbornes. In a 
feeling of nostalgic regret I noted the little one room school building was 
no longer there.

Only Mrs. Osborne was at home. Todd worked in Clinton. Her husband was also 
in Clinton picking up a load of hay for their two cows. Marjory lived down 
in Crabtree, but on Tuesdays she and some of the other women spent the day 
quilting at someone else's home.

She offered a late lunch, but I declined, "I'm flying back to Los Angeles 
tonight."

The return flight would be lengthy and tiring. Unlike the none stop flight 
from Los Angeles to Little Rock, the red eye back stopped in Albuquerque, 
and San Diego before setting down at LAX at 8:00 AM.

I became immersed in Little Rock's going home traffic. I turned on the 
radio. KLRA was broadcasting something about the PTA, so I switched 
stations, finally settling for an all news station.

"In this report from Washington, A class action law suit has been filed 
against the Old Time Revival hour, and it's successor the New Day Ministry 
in California. The suit filed several months ago has been modified claiming 
the embezzlement of more than $45,000 by the California based religious 
group. A criminal indictment is expected shortly."

As soon as I got to the airport I telephoned Jackson's office, then his 
home but could not reach him.

Repeatedly I tried calling California constantly encountering a busy signal.

At about eight I finally reached Jackson. He said he had heard the news 
reports, and figured it was a public relations ploy by the Christian 
Coalition. There was no question about the integrity of the funds during the 
time I had control of them.

When I finally got through to California at ten thirty, I learned the phone 
had been off the hook because of telephone calls from reporters trying to 
build the original story into something more spectacular.

Jackie suggested that I switch planes in San Diego, and fly into Burbank. 
The news media would be at LAX. The PSA flight into Burbank would arrive 15 
minutes before the TWA flight landed in Los Angeles. I'd be at home before 
the reporters discovered that I wasn't aboard.

Robbie was at the house when I got home. The foundation was ready to publish. 
They had more than 500 pages of definitive physical - philosophical 
facts with supports founded in the Bible, the Koran, as well as many other 
historical and scientific references. There was still much more to do, but 
the foundation wanted to publish as soon as possible, then add to the work 
as time went on.

In an attempt at humor, Robbie suggested we entitle the book, the first 
Jews book of John. On a more serious note I suggested we call it the first 
book of God.

However, a debate took place, and I changed my position. The book should be 
considered as a scientific work, not another religious publication. By 
treating it as a text book we could avoid the inevitable comparison with 
the Bible, the Koran, or the works of Confucius or Buddha. 

Even though I had no authority over the foundation I was asked to look over 
the galley proofs. Both Jerry and I read the material, commenting, and 
learning. We made no corrections. We felt the book was extraordinary.

Then came a decision that did involve me. We wanted to distribute the book 
to every religious organization in the world, as well as offer it to members 
of both our church and the radio ministry. Robbie projected a need for 
not less than a half million copies. Translated into dollars we were looking 
at an additional commitment in excess of a million dollars.

In anticipation of publishing I began offering the book on our broadcast 
ministry as a gift of appreciation to those who supported our work.

Even before a printer had been selected we had orders for than one hundred 
thousand copies. Few contributions were under twenty dollars, so we had 
collected enough to pay for the printing even before the first copy came 
out of the bindery.

In a marketing ploy Robbie had shrewdly had each copy serial numbered 
offering the first printing as a limited edition.

Within 24 hours of the first shipment to contributors I received a telephone 
call. Jerry had answered the phone, put it down, and turned to me 
with an odd expression on his face. "You won't believe whose on the phone."

I had been signing thank you notes which accompanied shipments of the book. 
"Oh? Who?"

"That little asshole Ernest Ensley."

I picked up the telephone. "Hi Ernest, this is John. How are things going 
for you."

In a voice that insinuated what his words did not, "I see the love birds 
are still together."

I didn't respond to the taunt.

"Look John, I'm doing you a favor by even calling you. If we hadn't been 
school chums I'd just let you swing in the air."

He had paused, "OK Ernest, what's on your mind."

"Dad is pressing for a federal indictment of Ruth Gregory for embezzling 
that $45,000 from the Revival Ministry. I hear she is sick, and a little on 
the crazy side. If you will agree to a motion in federal court whereby the 
money is transferred to us, we'll close our interest in the entire matter 
and the old lady will be off the hook."

I said nothing. A long pause ensued where I guessed Ernest was expecting a 
reply. Finally I said, "Ernest I am only part of this organization so I 
can't make that commitment. I'll have to get back to you."

"Look you Sanctimonious queer asshole, if I haven't got an answer by this 
time tomorrow little old Ruth Gregory is going to find her ass sleeping on 
a hard bed in an Arkansas jail." And he hung up.

I was livid. After explaining the call to Jerry he went upstairs to find 
Jackie while I put in a call to Judge Jackson.

Jackson said that the misuse of the $45,000 to build the Crabtree church 
could lead to a criminal indictment, but the money was still used for a 
religious purpose and any court would not be likely to do much more than 
reprimand her. 

He went on to ask what plans I had for the three million. I told him that 
we really didn't need it. His last words, were "Then agree to their terms. 
Have Ensley's people contact me so we can execute this with full protection 
for Ruth and you."

There was anger in my heart. How far from the ministry of Christ could the 
Virginia Beach crowd get, and consciencably still call themselves Christians. 
But despite the injustice of the entire matter we had much more work 
to engage our time and attention. And in the passing months it was all but 
forgotten.

It was times like this that I began to think about running away from the 
here and now. Seek out some faraway safe haven like the Netherlands, Denmark, 
or the South of France.

But moving elsewhere would be entering a fantasy. Each person's pendulum of 
living had its own length, its own time period. Short of death each 
individual would simply transport the highs and lows, the mountains, and the 
valleys of living to the newly chosen hideaway, destroying the fantasy.

Each human being was the real source of the pattern that he lived. The 
pulse of life could be seen as a pendulum swinging between joy and sorrow, 
between security and fear.

Under the pressures of life I had seen many who sought those mythical 
havens in some distant land. Gore Vidal and his friend had chosen the South 
of France. Carrol Burnett had tried Hawaii only to find that the personal 
need of work demanded an accounting from her soul, drawing her back to 
where her personal triumphs and defeats had existed. 

Without the peaks and the valleys there existed only death. Real retirement 
was in fact death. Statistics show that most older people who were forced 
into retirement died within a few years. Couples whose focus was toward 
each other ceased the life struggle within a few years of the passing of 
their partner. Statistically it averaged not much more than five years.

Each creature appears to develop their own rhythm independent of either 
genetic or environmental influences. 

Yet it was the bonding that had occurred between Cowboy and myself that 
provided the recharging source from which I had become more and more 
dependent when pressures heightened, or outside influences drained my mind, 
body or soul.

When things really got rough I found that closing my eyes and visualizing 
my partner provided pools of life giving resources. Just picturing the 
curvature of his ear, the line of his jaw, the taste of our tongues touching. 
It was easy for me to picture the detailed shape of his body to replace 
worry. He became my Mantra; my soft focus point. I loved the shape of 
his abdomen. Even at thirty plus, he was the most delicious concept in my 
world. One day I had vowed to buy some clay and sculpt the beautiful body I 
so adored.

But then reality intruded, interrupting my reverie. 

As my popularity grew I was able to introduce the world to more and more of 
my discoveries, and it was those discoveries that were bringing down the 
wrath of the Virginia Beach crowd.

Hints and lies about my personal life had been leaked to the press. The 
fight between my enemies and our ministry had moved from push to shove. I 
needed to bring the totality of my discoveries and my beliefs to the world, 
so that people could make their own choices outside of the influence of 
leaders that had their own agenda to impose upon the world.

We were preparing for a world wide telecast. We had chosen Atlanta as it 
had the most advanced satellite uplink facilities in the nation. All 375 
television stations that made up our world wide network would be carrying 
this telecast. We had purchased double the amount of required time on each 
station so that this broadcast could be repeated. The 822 radio stations 
that carried our sermons were simulcasting this event.

Every one close to me was there; The Boss, Cowboy, Ho, Hay Stack, and Jew 
Boy.

They all knew something was up. Our philosophical discussions over the 
years had been leading to tonight.

I knew that my beliefs were right. The ancient Jews were correct. God was 
not an entity. They pegged it as an all pervasive spirit. It was the wrapping 
of the universe. Every particle of mass or energy was immersed in this 
all pervasive thing we called God.

All the way from the Big Bang, to atomic structure. Even "the thing" was 
part of that single resonant entity.

The word of God was the unspoken rules of the universe. There were things 
that we were yet to discover.

The spirit of love between human beings was as much a part of God as was 
the way electrons revolve around a nucleus. Yet humans, in an attempt to be 
"one up" on their fellow man had perpetrated the greatest fraud of all. In 
the name of all world religions they had convinced the most vulnerable 
persons to accept their version of the world, not by proof, but by believing.

The Christian Coalition was more evil in its propagation of its brand of 
politics than were governments. Government at least didn't ask you to 
believe without asking questions.

The Boss was quite angry with me over this issue. "Damn it Johnny, we are 
in the people pleasing business. You try being 'a do gooder' and you are in 
for the shock of your life."

"I don't care. I know the evil that has been perpetrated upon the world, 
and I'm going to take a stand." I got up and started to pace the floor.

"You think you are playing with novices.  John, just look what happened to 
Jim Baker and Tammy Faye. They crossed the Virginia Beach crowd, and they 
were part of them. You stomp on peoples belief systems and you are carrying 
a lit candle into a room full of dynamite. The least that they will do is 
release that phony stuff on you and Jerry."

"It will be too late, 'cause my sermon is going to be about pure love, and 
what it means to mankind. I'm going to make them understand that my love 
for Jerry is the strongest regardless of gender. Even if you believe their 
version of God, it comes back to a giant question. Is their God stupid; 
does he repeatedly make mistakes which promote the love between partners 
regardless of gender. There are millions of people in the world that are 
drawn to their own kind. Look at the following that Troy and the Metropolitan 
Community Church have gathered through out the world. Remember that 
question Ho put to me years ago when we were still kids? 'Are you the kind 
of preacher that tells Queers their going to heaven, or the kind that tells 
everybody else Queers are going to hell.'

"We fought for these ideals. As more joined our discoveries we felt stronger 
in the strength of combining, meeting in brotherhood, proclaiming our 
triumph to honor the old virtues, taking pride and feeling happiness in the 
fulfillment that accompanies a task well done. We scorned the half-hearted, 
the triflers, and the equivocators who did not support this struggle toward 
a future that could have been theirs.

"There are no People here. There are thousands of bodies imprisoning each a 
soul, the center of a private world no other sees. Here they pause, and in 
other's company trifle a little time away, before each takes up again the 
labor of his solitude, by which alone his soul will live or die, his long 
journey home to God. Who can do good, without knowing what it is? And how 
will he find it except in thought, or prayer, or in talks with a few truth 
seeking friends, or with the teacher God has sent him?

"Truth will not come in some catch-phrase that can be broadcast to the 
world, but by a long learning of ones self. Trial and error, the bridling 
of desire in favor of submitting to the justice of Gods law are the roads 
we must each travel in order to live in harmony with the universe, to live 
in harmony with God. Only then will our labor be refined like gold. 

"None of these things will happen in a crowd; for a collection of persons 
bends like a field of wheat in the wind of anger or fear, or ignorance, 
catching by infection a false concept in the believe that it is knowledge, 
or at best true opinion, not weighed and sifted out.

"What is the People, that we should hold it in such high regard, worshipping 
the beast in all men in favor of the private wealth of each soul."

Jackie clamped his jaw closed. This was something upon which we disagreed. 
He knew I would never change my mind.

"Well Johnny, just remember what happened to every do gooder in history. 
JFK, Martin Luther King, Abe Lincoln, Joan of Ark, and even Jesus Christ 
himself. Boy, there is a good example for you. He was less radical in his 
thinking than you are, and look what happened to him." The Boss got up from 
the couch, and moved toward the door. "I'm not going down with you. I'll be 
in our suite if you need me."

The time was drawing near. We were going live on the satellite in just 
twenty minutes. Our telecast would be seen by millions world wide. It was 
live, no one could censor it.

We left the suite, Cowboy was on my left, Ho on the right, Jew Boy was 
following, Stack was in front. 

The Boss usually led the way, running interference with the people who 
wanted to touch me. Lately some even tried to rip pieces of cloth from my 
suit thinking it would bring them closer to God.

The elevator door opened, we went in. There were two other people present. 
My four moved closer to me, creating a human barricade for my protection. 
The elevator stopped at the second floor. The two strangers exited. Our 
stop was the bottom.

You could hear the roar of the crowd from the auditorium. Reporters pushed 
forward, "What's this rumor that we hear about you and Jerry?"

"Just keep your ears open tonight. Tomorrow will be a different world." I 
shouted in the general direction of the questions.

Behind the reporters security was trying to control the crowd.

Usually The Boss and Stack spearheaded our movements. Judging from the 
pressing throng we could have used him.

Someone must have signaled our arrival as the choir began singing All 
Things Great and Small.

The Klieg lights were flooding the stage, and even the hallway leading 
into the auditorium. We moved forward. I could see Stack trying to move 
people to the side without shoving them.

Suddenly I heard what sounded like an automobile back fire, only a little 
sharper. The sound was followed with a push against me like I had been hit 
in the chest by a line backer. 

I was flat on the floor. 

"Oh Johnny No!" it was Cowboy, he knelt next to me.

For some reason I could not fathom tears were flowing down his cheeks. 

There seemed to be a great commotion far away. 

I tried to speak but there was something wrong, all I could hear was a 
gurgle, and my loving Cowboy, "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You promised you 
would never leave me."

Before I could whisper "I won't," that elusive white light that I had 
associated with "The Thing" began to shine. Jerry seemed to dissolve into the 
light.

The light went out, and then there was nothing.

 
-----END-----

WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARD
(Where they are and what they are doing)

Jerry Osborne (Cowboy)
Cowboy was correct, he couldn't live with out Johnny. He seemed to be 
in good spirits when he and the Twins went to the beach to go 
swimming. 

While the others were watching the Twins in a game of Volley Ball, 
Cowboy took a swim, and never returned. His body was found washed up 
on the beach several miles south of Malibu.

Jackie Marshall (The Boss)
Jackie never forgave himself for not being with Johnny on that fateful 
trip into the auditorium. He blamed himself for the breach in security. 
At that time he was in his forty's; still young enough to find 
another "star" to promote. But the business had changed. The last time 
anyone heard of him, he was trying to put together a new show in 
Branson, Missouri.

Ruth Gregory passed away a few weeks after Johnny's death, without 
knowing of it. 

Philip left the ranch when the foundation was dissolved and studied 
Hotel and Restaurant Management at Pasadena City College. At present 
he runs one of the restaurants for the Boyd Group in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Timmy studied motion picture production at UCLA. While free lancing he 
seems to work quite a bit for MCA at the Universal Studios lot. His 
most recent close buddy is the kid that plays the juvenile roll on 
"Dream On". They both live in Simi Valley.

Tommy studied Law and is a junior partner in a firm specializing in 
international corporate law. He married and has two children. They 
live in one of those houses in Pacific Palisades that are likely to 
slide down on to Pacific Coast highway.

Alfredo and Philip made a thing of it. I think he is living with Phil 
in Las Vegas. Mostly, he keeps house for Phil.

Danny (HO)
Danny tried hard to keep the teen mission going. But without Johnny's 
influence it became impossible. He still is a youth counselor working 
to help the kids who come to Los Angeles to hustle.

Charlie Rogers (Sunshine)
Surprisingly, Charlie returned to his family, and became head of one 
of the Traveler Clans. He had been sent to check out the revival 
ministry to see if there had been something in it for them. There had 
been, he got it, so twenty years later he returned to take up where he 
had left off.

Robbie Cohen (Jew Boy)
Next to Cowboy, Robbie took Johnny's death the hardest. But above all, 
Robbie was... is a survivor. He is a major producer of hit Television 
Comedy Sit Com's. If it's new, if it's a hit, it's probably Robbie 
Cohen's.

Peter Hay (Hay Stack)
Peter and Ho are still together. They have a nice home just off of 
Mulholland in Hollywood. He is a writer who has written several good 
scripts one of which was the basis for one of Robbie Cohen's series. 
He makes good money and provides most of the support that let's Danny 
work among the troubled teens.

Todd Osborne
Still works for Capitol Records, although he's no longer in the mail 
room. However he was head of the section at Capitol Records whose 
responsiblity was the mail room when the discovery of the broken model 
of the Capitol dome was discovered.  They never did find out who was 
responsible.

Ernest Ensley
You can see him on Television. Most people can't stand his almost 
effeminate preaching. However, his father was an important member of 
the Christian Coalition so Ernest's spot on their network is 
assured ... for life.

No part of Johnny's ministry survived his assassination; except in the 
memories of those who loved him.

-------------------------------END--------------------