Church Folk

by Michele Andrea Bowen

  He raised his hands up in the air and waved them around a few times to illustrate his point.

  "Now, I am going to call out the top six, ten percent if you will, of our top runners. That way, you will get to see a little variety with regard to the caliber of men running for bishop. So, gentlemen, when I call your name, just come on up to the stage."

  "First, with a total of 747 of the needed 925 votes to win, is Rev. Silas Jones of Emmanuel Gospel United Church in Brooklyn, New York."

  Rev. Jones walked up to the stage with a sour look on his face. This was the third time he had run for bishop and he knew as he approached the stage he would have to spend all that time, energy, and money running again. He was getting tired of always being in the bishop's race and never getting far enough to seize the coveted prize. Jones's church was one of the larger congregations in Brooklyn, affording him a very comfortable lifestyle. But becoming a bishop would get him out of the pulpit, improve his social status, and provide him with the kind of power and influence he would never have as a pastor.

  "Second, with a total of eight hundred votes, is Rev. Josiah Samuels of Mount Moriah Gospel United Church in Hart-ford, Connecticut."

  Josiah Samuels stepped sprightly to the stage and stood next to Silas Jones. He was excited about the number of votes he had accumulated during this first run for a bishop's seat. Josiah knew he wouldn't win this time and would be happy with a good showing of over six hundred votes. This year's campaign for bishop was merely foundation building for the future when he finally got bored with pastoring and wanted something else to do. He figured that at sixty-two, he had plenty of time to win a bishop's seat and just being a candidate had brought him some unexpected benefits, notably a most enjoyable afternoon with a woman named Mae Wilson while his wife was out shopping with a group of pastors' wives.

  "Third is Rev. Willie Williams, with 820 votes, from Long Beach Gospel United Church in Los Angeles, California."

  Willie Williams, upon hearing his name called, jumped up from his seat like a contestant in a television game show and shouted, "Praise the Lord, everybody!" He leaned over and kissed his wife, shook hands with everyone at his table, and proceeded to walk up to the stage and right up to the microphone. He was one of the Senior Bishop's favorite pastors and knew that he would be accorded some privileges the other candidates would not have.

  The Bishop patted Rev. Williams on the shoulder and moved aside so that he could speak to the audience.

  "Well, church," he said in a raspy voice. "Church, you know God is good to me. And as your bishop I will be good to you. I will uphold all of the tenets of this sacred office, honoring my elder bishops and doing their bidding with all of my heart." He turned to look at the Senior Bishop. "And, Bishop, I know you know I will be the kind of bishop you can count on and I will do you right proud."

  "Amen," the Bishop shouted and stomped his feet and waved his hands high in the air. "Amen!"

  Rev. James leaned over and whispered to Bishop Jennings, "That boy ain't even won nothin' yet. How in the world can he stand there carryin' on like that?"

  "Because he is one of the two candidates most of the bishops want elected at this conference. I know you have seen them squiring him and the other one around, making sure everyone sees them in the company of all the other bishops."

  Rev. James nodded. Williams and Ernest Brown were the only two candidates who had been invited to every single meeting and program that was reserved exclusively for the bishops. They were also the only ones the bishops had openly praised in front of the other pastors and conference delegates. And he could understand why. Williams was, in his opinion, a butt kissing toady who would do all of the other bishops' dirty work when asked. Ernest Brown, on the other hand, was running on a platform of "God's Tradition." Translation— he would make sure no one got to change a thing.

  "Fourth, Rev. Jimmy Thekston, 845 votes, from Burning Bush Gospel United Church in Dallas, Texas."

  Jimmy Thekston, sixty, was a big and handsome but thuggish-looking man. There was an air of violence about him, even as he strutted up to the stage in his blue and black brocade dinner jacket, which contrasted well with his pale skin and straight black and silver hair.

  Rev. James had the distinct impression, watching Rev. Thekston take his place next to Rev. Williams, that he was being elected to serve as an enforcer for some of the other bishops. And as a bishop, he would have the power to back up his menacing demeanor when faced with pastors who opposed decisions made by the Board of Bishops they believed were questionable and self-serving. Mrs. Thekston, who was trying to force out a smile in support of her husband, was a thin, nervous-acting woman, who Susie believed drank to numb the pain of living with Jimmy Thekston, whom she always referred to as "that man."

  "Fifth, Reverend Ernest Brown, Sr., 869 votes, from Samuel Temple Gospel United Church in Detroit, Michigan."

  Ernest Brown got out of his seat with a surprised look on his face. He had known that he would be elected bishop at this conference, so being called to the stage wasn't a revelation. What surprised him was the fact that he had not received more votes than all of the other contenders. For the life of him, he could not fathom what pastor sitting in the audience had managed to outdo him.

  Ernest was about to walk up to the stage, when he remembered to plant a kiss on the lips of his wife, giving her the kind of public attention that helped to buy her silence. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that she would suffer the heartache over his incessant womanizing in private. And in exchange, he would bestow public rewards on her for being so faithful to her husband.

  When he walked onto the stage, loud cheers came from his large entourage of supporters. Theophilus saw Marcel standing up yelling like he was at a football game. "That's my dad, my dad the bishop. Yes! Yes! My dad!" His fiancée, Saphronia Anne McComb, was standing beside him in an expensive white satin gown.

  "I still can't get over those two getting together," Theophilus said to Essie.

  "Well, get over it, Theophilus, because they are," Essie said, wondering to herself why a woman as stuck-up and proper-acting as Saphronia McComb would want a jive, whorish man like Marcel Brown.

  "All right, all right, quiet down, you good Detroit people," the Bishop said with a broad grin. Ernest Brown was his own top choice for bishop. He was a company man, with enough of that Detroit smoothness to cajole whatever he wanted from folks without resorting to the butt-kissing of Willie Williams or the overwhelming forcefulness of Jimmy Thekston. He waited a few more moments for the cheers to die down and said, "For those of you who don't know it, that voice you keep hearing belongs to none other than Rev. Marcel Brown. In fact, young Rev. Brown, why don't you come on up here and stand next to your daddy—let some of that good bishop air just blow all over you and get you ready for your future."

  Marcel, a fairer, more slender version of his father, mounted the stage, decked out in a white dinner jacket, black and white striped bow tie, and matching cummerbund. He waved at the audience, who clapped and cheered for him. He even blew kisses to the ladies—a few giggled—before hugging his father and exchanging hearty handshakes with the other men on the stage.

  "I don't believe this crap," Theophilus mumbled out loud, then looked embarrassed when he realized that he was practically in church swearing like that. "Bishop Jennings, please forgive me my manners, I—"

  "Theophilus, if it looks like crap, if it sounds like crap, and if it smells like crap, then I'd be inclined to think that it is crap."

  Rev. James sniffed at the air a couple of times. "Lord knows you right in this case, Bishop Jennings."

  The Bishop cleared his throat, to announce the last candidate, the first man who would be elected bishop next Friday. "And, the last of our top six candidates for bishop," he said without enthusiasm, "is Rev. Murcheson James, 915 votes, from Mount Nebo Gospel United Church in Charleston, Mississippi."

  Rev. James stood up slowly, looking first at Susie and then at Bishop Jennings
, shaking his head in total disbelief. "Bishop, you know you a miracle worker. I am the last man they want elected a bishop."

  Percy Jennings smiled. He knew Murcheson believed he hadn't made the cut when Willie Williams's name was called, thinking that he had been outvoted. He suspected that Murcheson had been almost relieved to put the business of church politics behind him, and eager to return to his work at Mount Nebo. But God had other plans for him.

  When Rev. James walked onto the stage, the Senior Bishop gave him a lukewarm "Congratulations." Rev. Thekston stared at Murcheson out of the corner of his eye, clenching his fists.

  Of all the men he could bully, Murcheson James was not one of them.

  Willie Williams was vexed. He knew that Murcheson would fight him tooth and nail on anything he believed would hurt the church and its people. Rev. James was a do-gooder who believed all those platitudes about what made for a good preacher. And if he took all that seriously, Williams could only wonder at the extent he would take his vows when he was consecrated as a bishop.

  Silas Jones was seething. It was bad enough, once again, he had the least number of pledged votes. But it was a slap in the face to stand in the shadows of an old country boy like Murcheson James.

  The most intense hostility came from Ernest Brown, who had counted on being the first one elected a bishop. Here he was pastor of one of the largest churches in Michigan, taking second place to a man who pastored a church with only one-hundred-odd members in a country-bumpkin town like Charleston, Mississippi. When they were finally consecrated as bishops, he was going to make Murcheson James the most miserable man in the denomination.

  Otis Caruthers suppressed an urge to pull out a cigarette. He needed one bad after learning that Murcheson James would become the first elected bishop at the conference. Tradition dictated that the pastor with the most pledged votes got to select the location for the bishops' private, preelection celebrations. Unbeknownst to many in the denomination, some of these gatherings were high old times—expensive champagne flowed like water, caviar was passed around like it was tuna fish on crackers, the seasoned bishops shared all kinds of delectable secrets about their escapades with the neophyte bishops—and all felt a common bond, a kinship, a sacred brotherhood that they believed no other men in the denomination could share. And now Murcheson James, a man as straight and upstanding as any pastor could be, would control how this time-honored rite of passage would take place.

  With this new development in the bishops' race, Otis knew that he would have to redirect his efforts and find another way to help Cleotis Clayton recruit ministers and bishops for the club he was running out of the new Richmond funeral home. If Ernest were in Murcheson's shoes, everything would be smooth sailing. He would make money and get enough dirt on enough bishops and some select pastors to ensure his reinstatement into his old district before the conference ended. He rubbed his hand back and forth across the edge of the table, trying to think his way around Murcheson and his very powerful crony, Percy Jennings.

  The Bishop decided that he would not add to Murcheson's triumph by uttering a single syllable of praise. Eager to move past this unpleasant moment, the Bishop jumped right into the conclusion of the program. It pained him to be passing on the mantle of senior bishop to Percy Jennings, a man he disliked even more than Murcheson James. Jennings had, as one of the old bishops put it, "started off on the right track, until he got all holy, trying to turn the Board of Bishops into a doggone Boy Scout troop."

  Jennings's relationship with SCLC and SNCC, his visibility as a civil rights leader in his district, and the money he raised for the Gospel United Church colleges, made it impossible not to select him as the new senior bishop at this particular time. Just about every pastor worth anything was involved with the civil rights movement in some way, but Percy Jennings had been to jail with other SCLC leaders many times and always told folks he would be in jail many more, as long as things were this bad for Negroes in this country. He was a hero to many in the denomination.

  Unwilling to so much as congratulate Jennings, the Senior Bishop kept his remarks innocuous and to the point: "I know you good folks know that I am retiring at this conference and stepping down from my position as senior bishop. And in keeping with the tradition of our great denomination and the esteemed Board of Bishops, I will now call forth the new senior bishop, Percy Jennings, to bless these men and call forth a victory for them all. Bishop Jennings, come on up here, son, and do your new job."

  Bishop Jennings stood silently at the microphone for a few seconds. His heart ached over this ritual, one that made it virtually impossible for the denomination's best and brightest men to reach positions of power in the church. The corrupt tradition was just too entrenched. But he gave thanks for the small miracles of life. Jennings knew that if he did nothing else for his church, he had put at least one good man in an episcopal seat, and was working hard to have another good one placed at the helm of the church he hoped and prayed would become the church of the future: Garrison—no, Freedom Temple Gospel United Church in St. Louis, Missouri.

  Chapter Twenty

  THERE WERE SO MANY CARS PARKED NEAR WILLIS and Thay's house that Theophilus was forced to find a parking space a block away, easing his Buick into a tight space. Thayline opened the door and said, "What took you so long? Everybody here waiting on you two."

  "That banquet," Theophilus said. "Did you know that whoever gets elected bishop was practically elected at that banquet? I couldn't believe it." He just shook his head in disgust and then said, "Hey, Eddie Tate here?"

  "Yeah, Baybro," Willis said, walking up behind Thayline. "He's back in the kitchen with one of Thay's co-workers who has a booty that is wearing the daylights out of a tight yellow dress."

  Thayline rolled her eyes at Willis, who laughed and said, "Honey, don't act like that. You know that girl got a big booty and she wearing that dress right. Now, truth is truth. I can't help that."

  Thay knew Willis was right, but she still didn't have to like hearing it.

  Willis smiled at Thayline. It made him feel good to know his honey was jealous over him. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her back to him, as Thayline, embarrassed, tried to tug away. But he held on and planted a loud, fat kiss on her cheek. Thayline swatted at the hand he had let slip down on her hip and said, "Boy, you know you need to quit."

  Theophilus tried not to smile. It was so rare to see his big sister out of sorts with herself, and his brother-in-law was the only one who had ever been able to derail her. Thayline might boss everybody else around, but that big bad bossiness stopped right at the steel-tipped toe of Willis Bradford's shoe. He took Essie's hand and led her on back to the kitchen where, sure enough, Eddie was deep in conversation with a red-bone woman in a yellow dress.

  Eddie turned, grinning at Theophilus and Essie. "Theo, man, I've been waiting on your butt to get here so you could tell me what happened at the banquet."

  "Eddie, man, you don't want to know what happened. The election of bishops? Man, it's some bogus mess. The thing is so fixed, we already know who's getting elected on Friday."

  "You jiving me. Right, man?"

  "No. I know who the four new bishops are—Willie Williams, Jimmy Thekston, Ernest Brown, and Rev. James."

  "Rev. James?" Eddie asked with a surprised look on his face. Based on the first three names, he figured that a man of Rev. James's caliber wouldn't play enough dirty politics to compete with that group.

  "Yeah, man, Rev. James. Bishop Jennings worked some kind of miracle, and Rev. James will be the first man to get elected bishop on Friday. And you should have seen the looks on the faces of the other preachers when they found out that he had all those votes. Man, if looks could kill, we would be going to his funeral next week instead of to his consecration into the episcopacy."

  "But that's good news, right?"

  "Yes and no. Just think about it—even though Rev. James is getting elected a bishop, he is doing so along with Ernest Brown, Willie Williams, and
Jimmy Thekston. So I wonder how much he will be able to do as a new bishop, even with Bishop Jennings in his corner."

  Eddie looked solemn. "I see what you mean. But how did they get so far with the votes?"

  "The bishops have been politicking for months, even years, before this conference to get their boys into one of those four slots. It's almost unbelievable that Bishop Jennings was able to get Rev. James this far. The other preachers who would make good bishops were not there tonight. In fact, they never even had a chance."

  "Maaan," Eddie said, shaking his head. "That's messed up."

  "My thoughts precisely," Theophilus said bitterly. But then, remembering that Essie and the new woman were standing there, he said, "Eddie we're ignoring the ladies. Are you going to introduce your lovely friend here?"

  Eddie had been so intent on getting the scoop on the banquet, he had almost forgotten about his companion. She was standing over near the icebox, looking at him like she was wondering when he was going to remember that she was still in the kitchen.

  "Ahh, yeah, uhhh, this is . . ." Eddie walked over and said, "Ahh, sweetness, what did you tell me your name was?"

  Essie rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh. It was obvious that Eddie was so busy looking at that yellow dress, he had had the nerve to forget the poor woman's name. He was something else.

  The woman said, "Sugar, I done told you over and over again that my name is Johnnie, Johnnie Thomas."

  Neither Theophilus nor Essie missed Johnnie Thomas's gold tooth, with a star sapphire in it, sitting on the left side of her mouth. Theophilus looked over at Eddie and thought, "Man, you are pure dog tonight. Pure sniffing, barking dog."

  Eddie felt kind of bad about forgetting Johnnie's name. He liked her and he didn't want to keep disturbing the easy flow that was building up between them by being trifling about her name. He gave her that big old, bad-boy Eddie Tate grin and said, "People, this here is Johnnie.