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  When he ran into the aisle, folks started coming out of their seats, waving their hands in the air, fanning fans and programs in his direction, talking about, "Preach, boy, preach!" And when it was clear that just about everybody in the sanctuary was becoming lit up with the Holy Ghost, the organist hopped up from his seat and began to play duum-duum, duum-duum—that generic, deep-bass-sounding melody that always let everyone at a highly charged Negro church service know it was time to cut loose.

  When the organist saw that folks were itching to shout, he started playing louder and with more intensity, looking around to see which one of the women would get the spirit first. But it was Theophilus, and not one of the women, who took up the cause and got everybody dancing and running through the aisles. And at that point, the duum-duum, duum-duum turned into a fast-paced duum-duum-duum-duum, duum-duum-duum-duum that set off a chain reaction of shouting, dancing, and praising God that tore up every pew in the sanctuary. When the congregation reached a peak that couldn't be surpassed and Theophilus started experiencing a climax of his own raging emotions, he looked over at the musicians and signaled for them to calm the music down.

  At that point he walked back into the pulpit and said breathlessly, "I don't know about you but I'm sure glad that these musicians found some time to steal away from Hallowed Ground Church of God and Christ to play for us tonight. You know, church, I do believe that God likes that music about as much as we do. Who ever said that the Gospel United Church didn't know how to praise the Lord?"

  "I don't know, Reverend!" the organist, a tall, thin, ebony-colored man, shouted out. " 'Cause y'all is sho' havin' some church tonight. The Holy Ghost ran by and touched every Saint in the house. Praise the Lord!"

  "Thank you, Brother Organist. And if you will, sir, I would ask that you play 'At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, and the burdens of my heart rolled away . . .' "

  As the organist started playing, Theophilus called the congregation to join him in a circle of fellowship that went around the entire sanctuary. Once the circle was in place, he said they needed to come together to cement the spiritual bond they had formed over the course of the revival week. And when everybody joined hands, he led them in a prayer petitioning for forgiveness of past transgressions—including his own— asked for healing of their sorrows, and thanked God for stopping on by St. Paul's Gospel United Church tonight, because they all knew He had His hands full with all that was happening to Negroes in the South. Then he pulled himself up off his knees, opened his arms in a symbolic embrace of the congregation, and with the permission of St. Paul's pastor, opened the doors of the church to everybody at the revival looking for a church home.

  Part 1

  1961

  Chapter One

  AFTER A WEEK OF EMOTIONALLY CHARGED REvival preaching, Theophilus was too spent to race straight back to the arms—and the demands— of his Memphis congregation. He was tired and hungry, and he needed some time alone. So he was glad to see 32 West off of Highway 55, the exit for Charleston, Mississippi, where he knew of a place to stay, Neese's Boarding House for Negroes. He had also heard about a place there, Pompey's Rib Joint, which had the best rib tip sandwiches around—not to mention being known for hosting some of the best blues artists in the region.

  It was in Charleston, a tiny Delta town thirty minutes west of Oxford, that the Lord's second and most important life-changing miracle for Theophilus occurred. It was his second miracle, the one he prayed for deep in his heart, not even aware of how intensely God was listening to him and not aware that the Lord loved him so much— He really did know the exact number of hairs on his head.

  He drove to the "Smoky" section of the town and found the Negro boarding house. As he walked in, he took care not to let anyone sitting in the living room area catch a glimpse of his robe. His workday was over and he didn't want to have to explain if he happened to run into someone from the boarding house over at Pompey's. He felt a little twinge of guilt about going to Pompey's after preaching a revival, but he shrugged it off by telling himself that Pompey's was probably the best place he could go to have some peace. The last thing folks at Pompey's would be looking for was a preacher to tell their troubles to.

  His room was simple, immaculate, and comfortable. The high double bed looked inviting with its starched white linens, and yellow and white cotton patch quilt. There was a large gray, yellow, and white rag rug in the middle of the worn but freshly waxed beige linoleum floor, and crisp white cotton curtains at the one window facing the bed across the room. There were even fresh daisies in a plain white pitcher with a yellow satin ribbon tied around it sitting on an embroidered linen runner on the dresser.

  Theophilus put his things on the bed and unzipped his garment bag to get some fresh clothes. He had no intention of showing up at Pompey's in the navy chalk-striped suit, white shirt, and blue, black, and white tie he was now wearing. He selected a pair of silvery gray slacks and a pale gray silk knit sports shirt with silver buttons down the front, and matching pearl gray silk socks. He got his bathrobe, toiletry bag, fresh underwear, and left the room in search of towels and the bathroom so that he could take a quick bath and shave.

  Thirty minutes later, he pulled into a dirt parking lot across the road from Pompey's Rib Joint. The smell of succulent ribs and the light from the hot pink neon sign that blinked POMPEY 'S RIB JOINT—BEST RIBS IN THE DELTA led a straight path in the black night to the old brick building sitting off to itself on the other side of the road. Inside, where there was a rough wood floor, light purple walls, and unfinished wood tables and chairs, was packed. As soon as he walked in, Theophilus saw that the only seats left were at the bar.

  He pressed his way over to the bar and put his hand on a stool just as a short, round woman wearing an orange print dress and holding a big white pocketbook on her arm was about to sit on it. He had begun to apologize when she spotted some friends and gave him the seat. Mouthing thanks, he squeezed through the narrow space and a thin, light-skinned man with freckles and a broad smile moved his stool to make more room for him. He lifted his shot glass in a neighborly fashion when Theophilus nodded a quick thank-you and settled his large, muscular frame on the shaky barstool.

  He got more comfortable and started looking around the room, unintentionally making eye contact with two women who were dressed in identical lime green chiffon dresses. One of the women ran her tongue over the top of her lip and blew him a quick kiss when she was certain her man wasn't watching her. He nodded at her, taking great care not to get caught by her man. It was one of those no-win situations. If he ignored that red-bone woman with "good" hair, chances are she would get mad at him and say something about him to her man. If he were too friendly with her, then her man, a small, wiry fellow with a process and dressed in a red suit, would get insulted and probably be inclined to fight. And the one thing he knew about little wiry-built men was that they were easily insulted, mean, and carried a serious weapon.

  Theophilus was relieved when the waitress finally came to take his order, making it possible for him to have a decent reason to stop the eye contact with that woman and her friend. But it took him aback when she walked up to him and right into the space between his legs as she rubbed his knee and whispered in his ear, "What you think you be wantin' tonight, baby?"

  All he could do was smile at first. He was fully aware that he should know better than to respond to such outrageous flirtation. But the man in him, the part that loved getting attention from good-looking women, couldn't stand to let her get the best of him. He just had to give her back as good as he got. So Theophilus sat back on his stool and smiled, looking her up and down, admiring how good she looked with her sepia-colored skin in that skimpy black satin dress she was wearing. He stroked his chin and said, in a voice that sounded to her like midnight on a clear summer evening, "I don't need much, sweetheart. Just a tall glass of iced tea with a few sprigs of mint leaves and a rundown of what you have to eat. And make sure it is something succulent f
or a hungry man like me."

  She grinned at Theophilus, moved closer to him and spoke into his ear, this time allowing her lips to brush the tip of his earlobe, sending a rush of warmth across his neck and shoulders.

  "We has a rib tip sandwich special tonight. And baby, them ribs so good till they will make you want to do something real bad and nasty, if you know what I mean."

  Theophilus gave her a sultry smile to let her know that he knew exactly what she meant. Then he winked at her and said, "So, tell me, sweetheart. What's on this sandwich that makes it so good it'll make me want to do something nassty?"

  She felt a little quiver in her thighs and had to take a few deep breaths before she said, "Them tips is just good, baby. They soaked in hot, homemade barbecue sauce, with potato salad on top, and Wonder Bread."

  He smiled at her again. "I'm gonna trust you and take one of those sandwiches. But, sweetheart, if the sauce is real hot, bring me some ice water along with my order. I think I'll need more than a glass of tea to cool me down with a sandwich like that."

  She leaned on him one more time, a big smile spreading across her face. She inhaled the scent of his cologne some more before saying in the sexiest voice she could, "I'll bring your tea real fast and then go get your order settled."

  Theophilus smiled to himself as he watched the waitress walk away, deliberately giving him an eyeful of her fat, fine behind just swinging and swaying all for him. He thought to himself, "Boy, get yourself together, carrying on like that. Just a few hours ago you were all down on your knees at church and glad to be there, too. Shame on you, Rev. Simmons."

  The waitress brought his tea just as the band performing tonight, Big Johnnie Mae Carter and the Fabulous Revues, finished setting up on stage. The Fabulous Revues was a good-sized band—bass player, lead guitarist, tenor saxophone player, trumpet player, pianist, and drummer. These men, who were anywhere from the ages of thirty to fifty, looked good in crisp black pants with razor-sharp creases, light purple silk shirts, shiny black Stacy Adams shoes, and slick black straw hats cocked on the side of their heads. When everybody was in place, the drummer raised his drumsticks high in the air, brought them down hard on the first beat, and Pompey's Rib Joint got to jumping.

  Big Johnnie Mae Carter, a tall, husky, square-shaped woman with big breasts and a headful of coarse, bleached blond hair piled high on top, was in rare form tonight. Decked out in a long light purple evening gown with splits up to the knee on each side and rhinestones glittering in her ears, she strutted her stuff to the funky Delta blues rhythms of her band, from the front door of Pompey's all the way up and on to the stage. Then she finally stepped up to the microphone, throwing back her shoulders and whipped out the words of the song:

  "If you was a bee baby, I'd turn myself into the sweetest flower.

  "And if you was the rain, Daddy, and me the Mississippi? I'd flood this old Delta 'cause I couldn't keep all of your sweet lovin' all to myself.

  "And if you just happened to be the devil. Then, Lawd, Lawd, Lawdy, just help me please.

  " 'Cause see, I'd be tryin' to up and sell my soul just to make sure you kept on lovin' up on me.

  "I said, Lawd, Lawd, Lawdy, Help, Help, Help me please.

  " 'Cause I know I'd be doing so wrong just to keep you lovin' up on me."

  Big Johnnie Mae looked like she was feeling that music from head to toe as she stretched out her arms, snapped her jeweled fingers, and moved her hips from side to side. As the lead guitarist stepped forward to pick out his solo, she shifted aside, still dancing, rolling her hips in a sinuous way, and finally shimmying on down to the stage floor. The guitarist looked down at Big Johnnie Mae and smiled. She, in turn, smiled back up at him, pulled that dress up to her knees and rolled her hips some more. All the other musicians stopped playing and just let the lead guitar, accompanied by Big Johnnie Mae's dancing, carry the song.

  Now Big Johnnie Mae began to weave her way back up, all the while crooning around the melody, stretching to her full height in front of the microphone. Then the band rose up behind her full and strong, as she reached for a note that sounded like it had started way down deep in the basement and came on upstairs to blow the roof off the joint.

  A man sitting only a couple of feet from the stage jumped up and shouted, "Damn, baby. You sho' 'nough is hot tonight! Lawd! What I wouldn't give to be that there micro-ro-phone you holdin' on to right now."

  The freckled face man leaned over toward Theophilus and said, "Now, that Negro don't have no sense. 'Cause the way she was movin' down on that flo', any fool would know he need to turn hisself into some wood."

  Theophilus could only smile at this observation and raise his tea. He stopped short of nodding his head in agreement. He wasn't so sure he wanted to "turn hisself into some wood" because he wasn't so sure he was man enough to hold all of the woman that was Big Johnnie Mae Carter. Theophilus thought that perhaps he could be the sound system that carried her voice to the ears of her listeners. He sipped his tea and nodded his head at that thought. It would be nothing short of a religious experience to feel her voice coursing through his body and on out to the eager audience. He sipped on his tea some more, bobbing his head to the beat of the next song. The tea felt good, too—cooling him down at the same time that Big Johnnie Mae and the Fabulous Revues were warming up his soul and making him feel almost as good as he had felt at church.

  Just as Big Johnnie Mae ended this last song and started up on one with a calmer rhythm, a different woman came toward Theophilus with a plate of food in one hand and a big glass of ice water, a napkin, and silverware in the other.

  "You the man who ordered the rib tip sandwich and glass of ice water?" she asked.

  He said, "Ummm-hmmm."

  She pushed the food out toward him.

  "Here, this is yours and you owe me $1.25."

  Theophilus took the plate, silverware, and glass of water from her and put them on the bar. He reached back to get his empty tea glass off the bar and then fumbled in his pocket for some money.

  Watching him, the woman had to agree with the waitress, who was now stuck helping the bartender fix drinks, that the man in the "silver gray outfit" was sure enough a "big and pretty chocolate man." She tried to steal a better look at his face without his noticing it. She knew that you didn't look at the men coming in here too hard unless you wanted to send them a message you hoped they wanted to answer.

  Then he smiled at her, handing over the money while looking her over so thoroughly until she wished she had worn her large cook's apron. It covered a lot of her body but she hated bringing customers their food in that barbecue- and grease-splattered thing. But at least that grimy coverage would have slowed down the speed with which this man's eyes took in her body. She was standing there in a shirt and Bermuda shorts, so her only defense was to narrow her already slanted eyes and give him a nasty look. He wouldn't be the first man to get this look. But he was the first one who made her wonder if she had looked at him just a little too mean when she walked back to the kitchen.

  Theophilus shrugged off the glare that little woman had given him and turned toward the bar to eat his food. The sandwich was so thick and juicy he had to eat it with a fork. The tips were tender and dripping in some of the best barbecue sauce he had tasted in a long time. And there was a generous helping of potato salad spread evenly on each slice of bread. The waitress hadn't lied about this sandwich. It did taste good enough to make you "want to do something real bad and nasty."

  As he ate, Theophilus found his mind fixed on the image of that mean-acting little woman. She sure was a fine little thing, with that dark-honey-colored skin, thick reddish brown hair held in place with a light blue headband, heart-shaped face, full lips, and those sexy slanted, light brown eyes cutting him in two when he stared at her too hard. And she looked cute in those baby blue Bermuda shorts with her petite, hourglass figure and her backside swinging her own natural, uncontrived rhythm when she walked away from him.

  "Umph, umph, umph," he
thought to himself. "If that girl didn't have some big pretty legs, I don't know who did."

  Just then the waitress came switching back to him to ask if he needed anything else from her. Figuring she was offering more than just another glass of tea, he thought that he had better add a little extra sugar to his smile before he asked a question he knew she wouldn't want to answer.

  "Who brought me my food, sweetheart?"

  She looked confused and said, "Something wrong with your food?"

  "No. I just want to know who was the woman who brought me my food. She didn't look like she was a waitress. And judging from the way she just walked off with my money after I paid her, she didn't act like one, either. I mean, look at you. You're standing here all sweet-like, making sure I'm all right."

  "She wasn't nasty-actin' was she?" the waitress asked. She knew Essie Lane was good for giving these men that old nasty, slit-eyed look of hers.

  "No, sweetheart, nothing like that. I just want you to tell me who she was."

  "That was Essie Lane. She the cook on duty tonight."

  "Well, I have to thank a woman who can cook some rib tips like that. Where is she?"

  The waitress didn't look too happy about Theophilus wanting to talk to Essie but she said, "She back in the kitchen," and pointed him in that direction.