“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.
