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When I crossed the street, he immediately handed me a flyer, which announced in red letters, "Time Shall Be No More." He said his name was Jerry. He said he was there to "change my life" as he led me inside.
In later years I encountered a host of Bob Jones ministerial students and became familiar with variations of this night in Brevard. At that time, aspiring graduates did their "practice preaching" in small towns throughout the southeast; I guess the theory resembled practice teaching at WCU.
A team (usually three students) would demonstrate their commitment to the ministry by selecting a town, finding a meeting place (condemned hotels were pretty common), renting it, advertising a revival, conducting a service and soliciting converts. I suppose that the students were graded on their ability to carry out their project.
Well, this team was efficient. They had rented the lobby of the abandoned hotel, got the electrical power turned on and borrowed 200 folding chairs from a local funeral home. When I ventured inside, I found more than 100 people sitting quietly watching the team scurry about, dragging loud speakers on metal stand's, microphones and ceiling lights. One entire wall of the lobby was covered with a huge, portable blackboard.
Watching all this frantic activity, I couldn't help thinking that the scene resembled the preparation for the production of a play, much like the touring Carolina Playmakers used to do in this area. (I still remember seeing "Lost Horizon" at the Sylva Elementary School.)
The audience was a cross-section of Brevard night life. There were a few teenagers, a healthy assortment of middle-aged couples who had probably just had dinner at a local restaurant, a few merchants, three policemen and a couple of drunks.
When we were all seated, Jerry introduced his assistants. There was Henry, who had wild, curly hair. He was the "artistic director." And Myrtle May, a lovely thing, was the "lighting and sound effects technician." She also played the accordion. Myrtle Mae had dimples and red hair. I also noticed that she didn't shave her legs, which I found attractive.
Myrtle Mae started the program by playing "Ave Maria," and I guess that was the cue for Henry to start drawing on the gigantic blackboard with colored chalk. Myrtle May rushed over to a portable lighting board and dimmed the lights. The show had begun.
Jerry talked about the joys of being a Christian and how wonderful it was to go to Bob Jones, where "Christ was still in education." He told us about other colleges where that wasn't true. Football coaches took the name of the Lord in vain, and English teachers made jokes about the Old Testament. He said that it was easy to be taken in by these "whited sinecures" and educational dens of iniquity; the world was full of young men and women who had been blinded by worldly things. He said that we had to be careful or we could lose our immortal souls. If we did that, we could go to hell.
I noticed that the lights had changed. They were dimmer and I could barely make out Myrtle May twisting dials while her accordion swung like a pendulum and gave little squeaks and twitters. Then, we were in total darkness. I saw a new light in the ceiling that came on and gradually grew brighter. It had some kind of revolving wheel on the front that made the light change colors. It was also gradually speeding up, turning faster..... green, blue, yellow, red, green, blue, yellow, red.
Henry was really getting into the drawings now, and I noticed that his picture glowed in the dark like the luminous dial on Uncle Albert's watch. He seemed to be drawing a red lake. He had "glow-in-the-dark" chalk!
Jerry started talking about hell and eternity. He told us how hot it was in hell. It was ten times hotter than a blow-torch. It was so hot that rocks melted and people who had lost their souls were drowning in a lake of molten fire. Jerry was getting excited as he described the lake, and he climbed up on a chair began to ask us questions, which we weren't supposed to answer.
Henry was really going now, and I could see people faces in the lake of fire. Their hair was on fire and they were screaming. He drew deep crevices and there were people trying to crawl up out them and their hands were held out in begging gestures, their fingers all splayed out with little blue flames sprouting from each joint.
Jerry asked us how long Eternity lasted. Nobody said anything, so he told them. He said that if a raven flew to the top of the Rock of Gibraltar once every thousand years and wiped his beak on the rock, how long did we think it would take to wear the Rock of Gibraltar away to nothing. Nobody said anything, so he told us that it was billions and billions of years. Then, he said when the raven had worn the rock away, Eternity had just begun. I gotta admit the hair stood up on my neck.
Jerry said that the Rapture could happen at any moment and only the Chosen would be gathered up into the sky. When that happened, the sun would go out and the stars would fall. He said, "Time Will Be No More." He said it several times. "Time Shall Be No More. Time Shall Be No More." It sort of echoed in the rafters.
He asked us where we would be when that happened. Nobody said anything except one of the drunks who said he would be at Charlie's Bar and Grill. One of the cops stood up and stared at the drunk and he got real quiet.
The colored light was really going now, and it was the only light in that old hotel. Henry had a step ladder, and he had created these huge vultures in the sky and people hanging themselves from burning trees. He was pretty good. He could get a job with E.C. Comics drawing for "The Vault of Terror."
Jerry screamed about being on fire for eternity. He clutched his throat and staggered about as he talked about the pain and the hopelessness of being in hell. The light was now some color like blue-green-red-yellow and Henry was drawing faces and hands that seemed to hang out of the drawing with eyes staring at us and they seemed to be saying, Help me! Heeeellllpp meeeeeeeee! We were an attentive audience.
Then, WHAP! Myrtle May cut on the lights, the spinning colors went out and she started playing "Just As I Am." Jerry's voice suddenly became like warm syrup, and he said, "Will you come? Will you come now before it is too late." He had sweat dripping off his nose. "Don't put it off until tomorrow. You could get killed in a car wreck tonight! Your house could burn! Your heart could stop! Come now, before it is too late."
Well, they did. They sure did. I even thought about going myself. The drunks got there first. Then a dozen other folks and some crying kids came next. There they were stumbling toward the bench where Jerry stood. They got down on their knees. Some of them looked pretty scared.
Myrtle May took their names and Henry erased his blackboard. I was a little disoriented, I guess, but I stayed where I was. When the crowd sort of piddled out, I tried to get Myrtle May's eye, give her a wink, maybe. She seemed to be busy polishing her keys. Henry started packing up. I kinda siddled over to Myrtle May and said, "Say, can you play 'Lady of Spain' on that thing? She smiled and played a couple of bars, but Jerry gave her a dirty look and she went back to "Just As I Am." The hair on her legs look kind of like fur. Red and silky.
In a few minutes it was all over, and we were all out on the sidewalk; the converts sort of drifted away. Some of the teenagers had application forms for Bob Jones. I noticed that Alexander's had closed. I combed my hair and thought about walking down to the Co-Ed Theatre to see if there were any convertibles parked out front... but my heart just wasn't in it. I started the long wall home to Uncle Albert's, humming "Just As I Am."
I bet Jerry got a good grade on his practice preaching.
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