Where were you when the lights went out in Midvale?” was the leading headline of the Midvale Monitor the following morning. “Thespian trickery or theomorphic testament?” the article read on as it broke every rule of journalism. It was plain the reporter had no first-hand information, but the fact that the story left the question of the event’s authenticity open was enough to set a potentially devastating plan in motion. The newspaper was on the streets at six a.m. At seven-thirty a.m. the Organized Ministry Against Abraham was clandestinely formed in the fire-scorched basement of the Free Gospel Church: Reverend Garth P. Atchinson presiding.
“Brothers,” Atchinson addressed the nine mixed-denominational members, “we’ve got to put the quietus to this heresy before it goes any further.”
“Amen to that,” said Deacon Collingsworth. “I don’t have the training you guys have, but you don’t have to have a degree in theology to see that we’re dealing with a couple of professional hucksters here.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how they did it, but then I don’t know how a guy can make an airplane disappear on stage either.”
“Oh, they’re good all right,” pastor Elroy said in agreement. “Straight out of hell, if you ask me. I mean that was some kind of display, wasn’t it? Even had me going there for a minute.”
“You, too?” Collingsworth said.
“Oh yeah, brother,” Elroy said in his preaching voice then took a sip from his glass of water. He raised his voice an octave higher. “I’ll tell you, I had to dig deep to stop it from overtaking me.” He pounded a fist hard on the table, and amid the rattling of glasses he stood and raised a hand. “Get thee behind me Satan!” he called in a loud tremolo that would scare the life out of an ordinary person. “Somebody give me an amen!”
The rest of the ministers weren’t impressed. Father Coombs waved him off. “Just sit down Leon and save it for your congregation. They’re going to need it. By the look on those people’s faces last night, they were completely taken in.”
Deacon Collingsworth bobbed his head up and down. “I’ll say. Did you get a good look at the collection they made? Must have been a thousand dollars laying there.”
“And you know who’s going to be hurting next Sunday, don’t you?” Atchinson answered.
“We need to be a little cautious about that, fellows,” Father Coombs said. “It shouldn’t be necessary to let any of our parishioners know that the loss of income is a concern.”
“Oh, no,” Atchinson quickly agreed. “But whatever we decide on doing about these guys, we’ve all got to stick together and handle it in the same way. If any of us vary, the whole shebang could be lost and we’d might as well kiss our jobs goodbye.”
“But what if they’re right? What if God did have His hand in it?” the mousy looking preacher from an outlying tabernacle asked. Every eye in the room burned through him at once.
“In that case, Brother Michael, you can still kiss it goodbye,” Reverend Meade said sarcastically.
Brother Michael shrank down in his chair. “Sorry, it was just a thought.”
There was a harsh knock on the door at the end of the room. “Reverend, we need to talk,” Sister Allecia’s voice preceded her into the room as the door swung wide open. She picked out Atchinson and heavy-footed it over to him. “So what’s the verdict?” she demanded.
Atchinson shook his head. “Not now, Sister,” he said, but the big sister wasn’t to be that easily dismissed.
“Have you even put it to a vote yet?” she said. “Isn’t that what this meeting’s all about? We’ve got to know if you’re going to back us in this march or not, and time’s running out.”
Atchinson shook his head again. “You’re worried about the price of chicken feed, Sister. We’ve got bigger problems than that right now. Where have you been the past couple of days? Haven’t you seen this morning’s paper?”
Allecia’s face turned a bright red. The reverend had never been so blunt with her. “I was in Windsor talking to the guild up there, and no, I haven’t read the paper, I came straight here. Why?”
“Go find yourself a paper,” Atchinson said. “And close the door behind you, please.”
Allecia’s jowls puffed out then she blew the word ‘Well’ as if she had just suffered the greatest blow of her life. She angled her body around and clomped through the doorway, purposely leaving it ajar.
Deacon Collingsworth raised his eyebrows. “Glad she’s one of yours,” he said to Atchinson. “What did she want anyway? Vote on what?”
“Oh, this taxation thing on poultry feed,” Atchinson said, dismissing its importance. “Doesn’t amount to anything, but she’s got to have her hand in it. She wants us all to go to the capital next week and make some kind of protest, but we can talk about that later. So, where were we?”
“Does anybody know who this Abraham guy is?” Reverend Meade asked, but no one answered him. “The gall of the guy to call himself by that name. How long do you think he’ll stay around? I mean if it’s a one-shot deal, maybe we’re getting stirred up about nothing.”
“You weren’t there last night, Meade,” Father Coombs said, taking the helm. “And there’s two of them. I don’t know who they are but they’ve got too much going to leave on their own. I mean they really know how to work a crowd. If you ask me, we’d better not pussyfoot around. We need to get rid of them in a hurry. Now, do any of you have any ideas short of crucifixion?”
Deacon Collingsworth spoke up. “I don’t agree with you often, Coombs, but I’m like you on this. We’ve got to get our people to church today.”
“In the middle of the week?” Atchinson said. “I’m having a hard enough time getting them here on Sundays. How do you propose we get that to happen?” Collingsworth looked blank, but Brother Michael raised a timid hand. “What?” Atchinson fired at him.
“We could have a church dinner, maybe,” Brother Michael suggested, and darted his bespectacled eyes around the table.
“Feed them!” Atchinson yelled. “My God, man, do you realize how much that would cost?”
“It was just a thought,” Brother Michael said, and lowered his head amongst the coughs and harumphs of the other members.
“Hold on,” Father Coombs said after a moments thought. “It might actually be worth the cost when you stop to think about it. We offer up a free meal then hold a special service afterwards. We’ll have a captive audience, if you know what I mean. And if these guys are planning on another park show, we’ll beat them to the draw.”
“I hate to say it, Coombs, but you’re right again,” Deacon Collingsworth said. “Free food’s about the best way to drag them in. How about the rest of you? You for it?” The other members nodded their approval. “Good. Now, all we’ve got to do is get the word out.”
“Allecia’s good at that,” Atchinson said. “You guys probably have someone like her, or a women’s guild or whatever you call it. Get them on the phones and start burning up the lines.”
“My nephew works over at KROP,” Reverend Meade said. “I’ll get him to put the message out every half hour. And he can probably get the other two stations to give us the same courtesy.”
Father Coombs racked back in his chair. “Good,” he said with an air of accomplishment. “Now, I think we’d better close shop and get the food part lined up. Let’s see,” he glanced at his watch. “It’s eight-twenty-three. Let’s meet back here at nine-thirty and set up some sermon notes. We all want to be saying the same thing tonight.”
“Meeting adjourned,” Atchinson said, and amid the clatter of moving chairs and shuffling feet the preachers emptied the basement to set their plan in motion.
Neither Abe nor Shorty nor Captain Hedges had seen the morning paper when they sat down to breakfast. “Sorry about the cold cereal,” Hedges apologized, “but it seems when it rains, it pours, doesn’t it? The gas company can’t get out until late today to fix the range, and I’ve got to go to Windsor. I was wonderi
ng if you guys would mind watching the store for me.”
“Actually, Capt’n, we was going to ask ya…” Shorty started, but Abe stopped him.
“Sure we can, Captain,” Abe said. “We can put our plans off ‘til tomorrow.”
Hedges gave him a weak smile. “I was going to ask if you could be here tomorrow as well. I won’t get back until probably midday. Do you think you could swing that? It would be a big help to me.”
Shorty folded up his cereal box. “I don’t see how we could be sayin’ no to that. We’d be glad to stay, Capt’n. Who else’s goin’ to be here?”
“No one I’m afraid,” Hedges said. “Except Leroy, but he’ll be busy taking care of the office. You knew Ezra and George left yesterday, didn’t you?” Abe and Shorty shook their heads. “It seems Ezra has a daughter he hasn’t seen in nearly fifteen years and George is married. They both decided to go back and try to fix things. By the way, fellows, whatever you did to help these men is very commendable. I don’t know how you managed it, but you certainly changed them for the better. I hope my old bible had something to do with it.”
Abe gave him a wide smile. “It was the Lord, Captain,” he said. “Didn’t they tell you?”
Hedges nodded. “That’s what they said, and I think it’s wonderful.” He glanced down at his wristwatch. “Goodness! I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’ve got to get going. Thanks for your help,” he said, handing a ring of keys to Abe. “I’ll repay you somehow. These will open the Thrift Store, but there hasn’t been much business the last couple of days, so it’ll probably be easy on you.” He rose from the table and offered a hand to Abe.
“We’ll be fine, Captain,” Abe said, and shook his hand.
“Mr. McDougal.” Hedges acknowledged the Irishman, and gripped his hand. “Thanks again. I’ve really got go now. I’ll see you fellows tomorrow before noon.” Abe walked him to his car and Shorty opened up the store.
While Abe and Shorty were passing the day straightening and rearranging the Thrift Store, the Organized Ministry was frantically trying to get set up. Cooks and chefs and caterers all over town were pulling hair in an effort to put together a good spread on such incredulously short notice. Telephone banks were established and regiments of guild members were cross-calling everyone they could think of to get the word out. The ministers buried themselves in Atchinson’s basement to correlate their sermons as the radio stations fairly hummed with the invitation to everyone, church member or not, to the free dinner at the church of their choice at six o’clock.
Not one customer came into the Thrift store all day. At four-thirty Abe had had enough of the stock-work and decided to lock the doors. The gas repairman’s truck was still parked in the alleyway. That meant the range was still unusable and that dinner would have to be an eat-out affair.
A bit after five Abe and Shorty stepped out of the Salvation Army bathed and wearing a clean change of clothes: ready to meet the Lord right after dinner. “I’m thinkin’ a big, thick steak would be in order,” Shorty proposed. Having missed lunch and with only a bowl of cereal for breakfast, he was anxious to get some solid food in his stomach.
“Sounds good to me,” Abe said, closing the door behind them.
Before they reached the corner of the building, an unreformed drunk staggered into them. He grabbed at his hat as he tottered backward. “Exchewse, me,” he slurred, and pointed to the sidewalk. “There’s a big crack down there. I’ve been trying to step over it, but it keeps moving. Could you help me?”
Abe took his arm. “Sure. You going in here?” he asked, pointing to the Salvation Army Building.
“Nope,” the man said. “I’m going to supper. Would you care to join me?”
Abe looked at Shorty and asked with a look if he wanted to. “It’d be our pleasure,” Shorty answered. “Where is it ya’d be goin’?”
“That way,” the man said, pointing up the street, “if I can get over that crack.”
Shorty took his other arm and between himself and Abe they helped the fellow steady himself enough to regain his footing. He took a small step. “That’s mush better,” he said with a broad smile. He reached up and pulled the brim of his hat tightly over either side of his head. “You jush follow me.”
Abe and Shorty took his arms again and walked with him up the street, down two alleys and across an empty lot before they realized his destination was a church. The sign out front read ‘Calvary Church of the Valley’, Rev. Lewis Meade, Pastor. Under that, in removable lettering, it welcomed all comers to the Lord’s free dinner. Abe and Shorty exchanged glances and shrugged. “We’ve come this far,” the little man said. “And ya can’t beat the price.”
A happy looking young man approached them at the huge double-doorway where the drunken fellow blurted out, “Where’s the victuals?”
The young man’s expression went sour. He stepped back and pointed to his right. “In the meeting hall,” he said quickly. “Just around the corner to your left.”
The meeting hall was teeming with diners and alive with the clatter and chatter of such a get-together. The three newcomers filled their plates from the buffet tables and found themselves a seat.
“Do they do this often?” Abe asked their host when they had all three finished their second plates of fried chicken.
The man wiped his face on his coat sleeve. “I couldn’t tell you that. I just got here today,” he answered, his enunciation a little clearer now. “Heard about it on the radio, I think.”
“Well,” Abe said, patting him on the back. “I’m glad we ran into you. We’re going to have to leave you now, unless you want to come with us. We’re going to go talk to the Lord.”
The man held up a finger while he burped. “Excuse me. No, I think I’ll just stay here and see what they’ve got for desert.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind we’d like to see you at the city park in a little while.”
Another young man in white shirt and tie stopped them just outside the door. “How was your dinner?” he asked pleasantly.
“It was really good, thanks,” Abe said. “We’ll have to come here again.”
The young man nodded. “The service is in fifteen minutes. If you’ll just go around to the front someone will direct you to your seat.”
“Oh, we’re not staying,” Abe said. “We’ve got a meeting to go to.”
The young man was noticeably disturbed by Abe’s words.
“That’s all right, lad,” Shorty said. “Maybe we’ll join ya another time.”
“Thanks again for the nice supper. We’ll see you at the park,” Abe said, finishing the conversation. With that they walked away leaving the poor boy speechless.
“Must be that a lot of people stayed on at the church,” Shorty said as they entered the sparsely populated park.
“Yeah, it looks kind of empty, doesn’t it. But we’re a little early.” Abe spotted Horace under the edge of the bandstand chewing on a bone he had found somewhere. “I forgot all about you, Horace,” he apologized as he bent down to say hello. He saw that the old dog wasn’t worrying over a bone at all; it was a rather large piece of round-steak. Horace looked up at him and grinned then went back to his elegant dinner. “Well, would you look at that,” Abe was saying when an elderly woman interrupted him.
“I think it’s just dreadful.” She spoke in a loud voice as she leaned towards the stooping Abe.
Abe turned his face to hers. He recognized her as the woman who had urged him to tell his story during the first service in the park. “Why do you say that?” he asked, confused about her statement.
“You mean it doesn’t bother you?” the woman said in a tone of disbelief.
“Why should it,” Abe said, glancing back at Horace.
The woman put her hands on her cheeks. “Oh, of course!” she said. “You’d feel that way. You’re much closer to Him than we are.”
“Yeah, Horace and me have
been friends for a while now. I guess you could say we’re pretty close.”
“What?” the woman said as if she hadn’t heard correctly. Then she bent to peer under the stand. “Oh, hello there. Are you enjoying my little present?”
“I thought you said it was dreadful,” Abe said.
The woman put a hand to her lips and chuckled. “You thought I was referring to your dog, didn’t you? What I meant was the way the churches are treating you.”
Abe was still at a loss. “What are they doing to me?”
“Well, I think it’s just awful,” she began, and continued to tell them what she knew of the churches attempts to discredit him and Mr. McDougal. “So I just got up and walked out right in the middle of it,” she said. “I was hoping you would be here so I could tell you in case you didn’t know about it.”
Abe shook his head throughout her report. “I can’t understand it,” he said when she finished.
“Well, I can,” Shorty said. “It’s plain to see they’re jealous that the Lord chose us and not them. But you’d think they’d be gatherin’ their marbles in before the Lord scatters ‘em ferever.”
“They’re wrong,” Abe said.
“They are wrong, young man,” the woman said. “But just look around you. There’s not a tenth as many people here as there was last night.”
Abe nodded his agreement. “That’s true, but those who are here will be blessed for showing up.”
The woman’s face showed concern. “But what about those who are still at the churches? What’s going to happen to them?”
Shorty touched her arm. “Don’t ya be worrin’ about them,” he comforted her. “The Lord’ll be blessin’ them too. They just won’t know about it.” Her smile returned.
“Mr. McDougal’s right, you know,” Abe said. “He blesses us all the same. I think the whole purpose for the Lord being here is to remind us of the awful ways we’ve been behaving.”
“What about the ministers,” she asked.
Abe nodded. “I don’t know, but I expect their hearts are in the right place.”
“It’s just that their minds haven’t caught up yet,” Shorty added. “Thanks fer tellin’ us.”
“I thought you should know,” she said, and bent to wave a goodbye to Horace. “God bless you both, and don’t let this stop you. What you’re doing means so much to us.”
Abe stepped up onto the platform when she walked into the small crowd. “Folks,” he said in a raised voice. When he had their attention he said, “The Lord blesses you for taking the time to come down here this evening.” He hesitated for a long moment staring at the upturned faces. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but there won’t be a meeting tonight.” He could see the immediate effect of his statement as the people seemed to wilt. “I am really sorry, but I need your help. I’m going to ask you to go home and promise yourselves that you’ll try hard to be better people. We’ll be back tomorrow night and I’d sure like to see you all here.” He lowered his gaze and slowly came down the steps.
“What did ya do that fer?” Shorty asked, completely surprised by the speech.
“I don’t know,” Abe said, just as puzzled. “I didn’t mean to call it off when I got up there.”
Shorty shook his head. “Did the Lord tell ya to?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t hear Him.”
“Well, if ya did it on yer own, I’m thinkin’ someone’s goin’ to be pretty sore,” the little man said, rolling his eyes upward.
“If I did it on my own, I sure don’t have any knowledge of it. Feel my head,” Abe said holding one of Shorty’s hands against his forehead.
“Cold as a cucumber,” Shorty diagnosed. “Must be somethin’ gone awry inside. Come on, we’d better be getting’ ya to bed.”
“I am tired,” Abe said. “Come on, Horace. It’s time to go home.”