The quintessential Southern preacherman: Jerry Falwell. You see I remember ol' Jerry as the pastor of the Thomas Road Baptist Church in Lynchburg, Virginia...about 50 miles from my hometown of Roanoke, Virginia. Every Sunday Jerry came on th' teevee on his "Old Time Gospel Hour" and he seemed like such a friendly fellow. Years later he would emerge spearheading the "Moral Majority" during the Reagan years. I would turn to people and say, "What happened to ol' Jerry? He didn't used to be so angry and pissed off...."
By Grant McGee
Long ago and far away I used to work
7 days a week. This was way back in the
coal mining country of western Virginia, where the mountains and valleys end
and you get into a territory of convoluted hills and deep
"hollers." The saying there is "It's where the sun comes
up about 10 in the morning and goes down about 3 in the afternoon."
Seven days a week working in radio
meant I worked from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays.
I got to remembering those Sundays.
Starting about 7 a.m. the preachers
came in to do their preachin' shows and I was the radio dude who ran the controls for them.
I've forgotten some and I've
remembered some.
Therein lay the tales.
There was the good ol' boy preacher
who came in and had a friendly ol' broadcast for a half hour. The reason
I remember him is because one Sunday he said, "Anytime you say,
"Gee" or "Jeez" you are STILL taking The Lord's name in
vain because that’s short for ‘Jesus.’" So if anytime I say
"Gee" or "Jeez" that memory comes rushing back.
There was the preacherman who
preached in an "old school" method where he shouted and punctuated
every phrase with "ah-HAH." Kind of like, "FFFFFLOCK,
ah-HAH, I WANT TO TELL YOU, ah-HAH, ABOUT THE SIN AND DEGRADATION OF OUR
SOCIETY, ah-HAH!...."
I remember this guy not only for his
style of preaching but because of an incident that happened which on one hand
was kinda sad and on the other hand kinda funny: This particular
preacherman held a day job with the county. It was a big enough position
that he had a secretary. Well, he and his secretary were known to take
long "lunches." Apparently enough people knew that word moved
through the area grapevine and made its way to the ears of the preacherman's
wife.
You see, one Sunday this particular
preacherman's show was replaced by another. The next Sunday I asked a guy
who I knew knew the missing preacherman what happened to our MIA radio guy.
"Oh, you didn't hear?" he
said with a smile. "You didn't hear what happened up at the county
seat? Well, preacherman and his secretary pulled up in the county parking
lot after one of their "lunches" and there was preacherman's wife
waiting for them. Right quick the two women start yellin' at each other
and then it's a hair pullin', nail scratchin' CAT FIGHT. Wooo-eee."
The man started laughing more.
"And here's preacherman, he's
done fell to his knees he's got his hands clasped together in prayer and
callin' on The Lord to reach down with his mighty hand and bring peace to these
two women."
Preacherman's secretary quit her job
and preacherman gave up his Sunday preaching on the radio.
And then there were the folks who
came down from the church in southern West Virginia to be on the radio.
They would file in for their Sunday
morning show, sit around peaceably until their showtime. Then the
minister of their church, a man who was affected by the coal miner's condition
"Black Lung" and had been in a mining accident moved up to the mic
and began his steady drone of preaching. If you weren't paying attention
you'd think it was Tuvan throat singing from southern Siberia.
Once the minister got into his
preaching one of the women in the group threw her head back and started
speaking in tongues. Then she fell to the floor and writhed around for
the rest of the show. Then the other people standing around the droning preacherman would hoot and holler, throwing their arms in the air.
This happened every Sunday.
I made a tape of this particular
show. I tossed it away somewhere along life's path.
Wish I'd kept it.
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