“Hitting the sawdust trail”-Preacher Jack Holds Forth

“Hitting the sawdust trail”-Preacher Jack Holds Forth     

By Zack James

“I am saved, I am saved, I am finally saved. I had sinned against the sanctified sons of Adam, blessed Cain for his courage and fallen Abel for laughing at him for falling down after the serpent screwed up their former digs East of Eden. Had flung my seed far and wide among comely women, tarts and the just curious who got the big brush off when I took off with some latter apple-fetching Eve leaving them barren for a time. Had spent my hours in avarice, the midnight sneak a specialty but armed robbery if necessary starting that first night at the Citgo gas station and debauchery-wine, women and song if I haven’t covered all of them previously. Had coveted, coveted wives, land, pigs, plastic, pottage. Had been lost in the rain outside the gates of Eden looking for Saint Anne up on some faraway hill but hitching up for a three day crawl and sheet fest  with sweet Melinda who could cure all your nightmares with those bloated lips made for undercover sheets. (She said she was just a girl who like to play the “pennywhistle” as long as a guy didn’t try to con her with crazy talk of love and going places.) Had trammeled the hedges of the wise and the thoughtful hags of evil misdoing showing old Macbeth what was what and that damn psycho he was hitched up to as well so much for the sirens of thickets and brews.

“Had been bent around a stick of jade, a stick of hash, a stick of jimson, a stick of the everlasting good and said my say in the midnight hours around the black hole of Calcutta. Had worshiped Stone Age totems from afar and prayed for dinosaur-etched dreams. Had been in that windswept night when all the cauldron of sinners were lined up for their daily soup. Had seen visions of cocaine codeine elixirs mired in sweated muddy fields of May. Had spoken ill of virgin sisters who repented their lustful ways to find chastity in the nomad hills out around Big Sur. Had been the poster boy for 24/7/365 sprees unto the death totems along windswept California beaches that Big Sur I mentioned when the virgin sisters had repented their lustful ways. Fuck them, sorry. Had drawn blasphemous guns in the desert night facing tommy-hawks and tommy guns. Had blanketed seven vestal virgins down in Delphi town and cast them out like lost sheep looking for fodder. Had sworn a sacred oath to Baal in the secret crevices of my mind. Had not thought twice about the slaughter and mayhem when Baal went behind the clouds looking for sweet Melinda and her long-line penny-whistle.   

“Had repented, how I had repented, for an hour, a day, and then murdered sleep. Had told death straight out that I did not believe in him, her or whatever gender-bender was being played out. Had seen visions of the great unmasking on the seven hills but I would be damned which seven hills seeking a sign that maybe Saint Francis would come and rescue a poor sinner. Had swollen my tongue unto the seventh generation of the seventh son and me an only child. Had been conceived in a dark cave by midget anglers who sent me forth to reek of whiskies, of fetid dopes, of sexed-up layaway plans. Had blasphemed against the sons of evil’s sons. Had laughed when the angels came by and spread their noisy wings. Had been a harlot with my head on fire swaying gently in the crosswinds of desire. Had seen the land of the righteous which some call milk and honey and detonated a time bomb box for the eternal. Had lifted up my head toward the sky seeking praise and pissed in rivers of pure noxious gas. Had seen lights in the sky giving me the okay to drive the pure from their abodes and sink them in clammy sea-beds beyond tepid seas. Had burned amulets and charred my face with the residue of empty desire against the great Western blue-pink night. Had danced the Day-Glo canyons around Death Valley and known what the ancient heathen warrior had craved when they reached for a man’s scalp. Had been besotted and wetted by pure rage against the coming of the light. Had done all of these things in fearless desire to crush whatever profit I could out of the flinty stone of Smith& Wesson,” cried out Preacher Jack.

Cried out to the throng that was standing, mostly standing except the few cripples, no they don’t call them that anymore even if they are all crippled up, something like handicapped or disabled or differently abled, under the big circus-style tent where he was have his yearly revival meeting in Peoria. That is in Illinois for those who have forgotten that town used to be a bell-weather for a million trends from the latest in overalls wear to skinflint motion pictures. Preacher Jack had just then completed the “call” part of his sermon to those who were in the audience who had traipsed from far and wide to hear his yearly message to the fallen angels of some strange Miltonic dream fest.  

Preacher Jack had been being calling out the saved message for at least the previous forty years ever since he had come back to the “real” world from over the Japan Seas in Asia where most of the stuff he declared himself saved from had occurred. Most of the rage, pillage, murder, arson. Had found himself beached in Southern California after running through a couple of marriages, run through a couple of benighted fortunes on dope, women, sin, gambling, more women, more sin and tagging along with a bunch of “brothers” from ‘Nam who also were having a tough time coming to terms with the real world after they got back. It had been there that Preacher Jack, then just Jack, John Lewis Jackson, Junior first heard the word, first got his senses back and began that long uphill climb to speak to those laid out before him in the seats between the freshly laid sawdust aisles. As he waited his usual few moment before he came to the “response” part of his ceremony he could, he could as he had counted on some many times, hear the soft sound  of moaning of those out there in the dark as they ran through their own sinful litanies in word silence.

Here’s the pitch as he continued, “Sinners against the bedeviled blessed night, the devil’s blessed night for that is his calling card time who will be saved” [Not a question and no response but some shuffling-the “no response” an expected one since Preacher Jack was just warming up to his subject and the crowd was still taking in his own confessions against their expectations and were not ready to “hit the sawdust trail” leading to the redemption center behind where Preacher Jack was holding forth.] “Ah, shy, huh, shy or sly thinking that no judgement can penetrate you can take you away from your worldly profit-gouged sins. Thinking that Preacher Jack will absolve you with merciless attentions for your intentions. You brother, you over there with the Robert Hall suit on and lust in your heart, be gone, take off your cloak, go back out into a candid world and tell the brethren of your new found understanding of what makes the world go round, about who shall be the king of kings, who shall benefit from your new-found nakedness.” [And on cue the man in the Robert Hall suit who just so happened to be one of Preacher Jack’s confederates, Jimmy Jamison, a guy who he had met under the bridges in Southern California, a fellow ‘Nam veteran who when he, Preacher Jack, “got religion” after attending a revival tent meeting near Saddleback Valley and saw the profits to be made getting the world-weary to cough up some salvation dough was when cleaned up was the perfect non-descript guy to pull off the “naked go forth” routine off and get people a little antsy seeing a totally naked guy heading out the back of the tent, or wherever the Preacher was holding forth, and would draw many disbelieving stares but no followers. No followers as expected since the idea was not to lead the sheep out the back door but up the sawdust strewn aisle to show true repentance with cash, credit card, no personal checks, in hand to continue the work of the, well, of the lord]              

After due time for the Robert Hall man to clear the premises the Preacher went in for the kill, went into the long harangue which produced the dough just as long as the “saved,” getting salvation on the cheap if you think about the matter closely did not have to show skinny shanks, desiccated stomachs or ground-sagging breasts. Beautiful.             

“You, you madam, you with the short dress on and the young children hanging off your arms, what evil thoughts drove you to cloak yourself in garb unfit for the Lord’s eyes. Did you come here for salvation or to continue your wicked whorish ways, looking to smite Adams once more before the Fall. Looking for a whore’s bounty in your hour of need. Speak up, sister, speak up we are all sinners her.” The women immediately put  a sweater she was wearing over those tender knees and spoke of how in the past she had had to take any man’s offer to provide for her children, had to  do things against the Lord’s word.      

[Preacher Jack had a habit of scanning the crowd in front of him before his performance or during the “call” section to eye who he would bed that evening. Usually it was a good-looking woman like the called upon one with the kids hanging her but sometimes it was some young thing that had a virginal look about her, and very occasionally a married woman who took his talk for good coin. Amazingly he was able to con them into bed by the old “hook” that they were serving God’s message or messenger by “putting” out for the good man of the clothe. Preacher Jack called it a fringe benefit of the job and claimed, without proof, that half the time he would be confronted by a woman who propositioned him. In any case on the night in question that short-skirted woman did give herself to the Preacher in order to be “saved”. ]      

He asked the woman, not expecting her to, to come forward and testify, to “hit the sawdust trail,” to come and be “saved.” (As mentioned above he had other plans for her salvation.) As he warmed up to the audience he sensed a certain reticence in the crowd to bear witness after that woman did not come forth. He then went into overdrive. To a male cripple [disabled person] on the ground in front he said “Fallen brother I know your affliction, I know you have sinned against the father of us all [the man lowers his head], have had evil thoughts in your heart, have cursed the Lord, his son, for putting in your condition. Have called on the demons to restore you to no avail. Look up brother, hear my words, hear what the Lord has directed me to say to you. Get up, walk, walk the sawdust trail, for a sign. [The man dumbfounded cannot move just yet.] Come now believe, believe in the word, believe in the holy word of God which I bring forth unto you, unto this crowd of sinners. [The crowd a little restless stirs.]  Walk dear brother and accept the Lord’s bounty. [The man makes the first struggling inept attempts to stand up and falters.] Come now the Father of us all will take away the stain of your misbegotten sins, will free you from your affliction if you believe in him. [Once more the man, now in focus to the Preacher, a young man, moves, drags himself forward a bit, pushes on his arms to rise and falls back. The crowd begins to become fixated on the man’s struggle.] I am an agent of the Lord, come and join me, come up the sawdust trial which in the end times will insure the ‘rapture.” [On hearing the word ‘rapture” the young man moves with his arms forward some more the crowd softly urging him on.] Come brother a few more steps and you will be free. [The young man moves close enough for the Preacher to grab and raise him up to a standing position giving a victory sign before quickly sitting him down on the chair behind him. The crowd visibly draws collective sighs and some motion forward is to be seen.] This brother has been raised by the Lord who can deny it. He is saved, he will walk henceforth. Who else will be saved. [The Preacher points to various hearers and direct them to the sawdust.  Several come, eyes closed, hands raised in praise of the Lord.]

The pitch over Preacher Jack said to himself that that night’s take would be good, very good. This saving souls business was good, very good to him. Strangely he had had to exert very little effort to raise that young man so for a moment he thought maybe there was something to this whole thing, began for a just a slip of a minute to believe his own bullshit. Then suddenly his thoughts turned to that short-skirted woman and the kinky little things he would have her do that night in order for her to gain salvation.