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It’s called the Sawdust Road, the evangelical highway that crisscrosses the South and Southwest bringing Jesus, healings, hope and salvation to those who open their souls and wallets under the extraordinarily huge white tents (“the size of 2 football fields”). It is traveled by God’s own men and women anointed to speak in His Name and to perform His Miracles. It was Oral Robert’s path to popularity and prosperity, and functionally illiterate David Terrell’s, too.

Donna Marie Johnson, a three year old toddler, and her year old brother joined Rev. David Terrell’s heavenly “holy roller” all-star circus with their mother Carolyn Johnson. Carolyn became the tent revival’s organist after she was moved to sell or give away all their possessions to be one of God’s (or Terrell’s) people. They were homeless, dependent on the kindness of strangers and fellow believers to house them for a few weeks at a time while Terrell spoke to the desperate masses who filled the tent. Housing was more than likely a combination of muddy surroundings, moldy walls, mildewed bedding and other unhealthy factor.

The Sawdust Road was hardly a healthy environment for children. The leaders in this ministry had a calling higher than nurturing their offspring. There were a few half-hearted attempts at home-schooling, but mainly the children who were old enough to walk were dressed up at meeting time and placed on hard folding chairs to sit for 5 hours at a time as the preaching unfolded and the spirit entered the fortunate attendees who began speaking in tongues. During other times they wandered in the yards dirty, parasite ridden, and hungry. Brother Terrell was never one to spare the belt, especially with his son Randall. Carolyn toured several times with the ministry while leaving her two children in the care of complete strangers. Some of them took advantage of the situation to add their own form of abuse of the children to Carolyn’s detachment.

Donna’s family traveled in the vehicle with the Terrells and their children from place to place, a fact that Donna soon understood to mean that her family was special to David Terrell, that they had earned his approval. And that’s what all his followers ultimately wanted – to earn the approval of this self-appointed prophet, to be enfolded into his promises. Innocently eavesdropping, Donna learns that her mother is considered David’s other wife. Gradually are revealed his affairs with other women followers and the hidden children whom they bore him .

Attendance at the services dwindled as radio and TV took on a larger role in getting religion to the masses, and eventually David caught on. (Today you can donate on the website.) The last hour of his sermons was dedicated to passing the buckets and to asking for money for the church. Then he began to wear the apron-of-many-pockets which followers would stuff with their last dollars, even wedding rings, for David and his family. Eventually the caravan of hoopty-like cars driven by the Terrellites from place to place became Mercedes, Lincoln Continentals, and Thunderbirds. After an IRS audit, Terrell served jail time for tax evasion.

Donna Johnson left Terrell’s entourage at age 17 conflicted about faith and David Terrell, her step-father. What was he really? A preacher, an adulterer, an actor, a prophet, a con artist, a healer? She had seen him perform successfully each of these roles. Johnson says, “Sifted and shaped over time by the adults around me, my recollections have distilled into a mythology of faith, hard to believe, harder still to deny.” Today Donna remains,”a doubt-ridden Episcopalian with Buddhist tendencies.”

RCW – Neighborhood Reader

Come in on Sunday, April 28th for original poetry presented by Sheryl Luna, Eleanor Swanson and Bob Cooperman! We’ll be starting at 7:00 pm!

“Nineteen years old and a widow. Mary Boulton. A widow by her own hand.”

Dressed in mourning clothes of a lady, Mary crashes through bulrushes, ditches, streams and woods, pursued by bloodhounds and twin red-headed men with guns. The year is 1903 and the men are her brothers-in-law, determined to avenge their brother’s death by her hand.

As she struggles physically against exhaustion and starvation, Mary wrestles with her thoughts and illusions. She thinks of her sickly infant son who died—but WAIT–not now. She recalls her deceased mother vaguely—but NO–not now. She longs for her father’s protection—but WAIT– is he a drunk or a reverend? She has visions, converses with apparitions, runs from demons that surround her. I am filled with sympathy for her. Is she insane? Does she suffer from postpartum depression?

To save her own life, Mary runs towards the Canadian Rockies, her only chance to freedom. Eventually, she is rescued by a financially secure gentlewoman from whom Mary steals when the red-headed brothers approach. She escapes higher into the mountains on horseback, wearing the dress of a pampered woman, completely inexperienced at foraging or hunting, destined to die. The wilder her surroundings, the wilder the musings of her mind become. They both seem equally dangerous. I wonder which will dominate her fate. I am frightened for her.

As Mary reveals more to the reader, I begin to question if her insanity is actually an amalgam of painstakingly devised ways to protect herself from further heartbreak,loneliness and a life devoid of love. Her father left the ministry for alcohol and the law when his wife died. Mary’s grandmother and father provided for her physically, but never emotionally. She was socially inept and married her first suitor after only three months. He treated her as one might treat a female slave. Her baby dies. Illiterate due to dyslexia, Mary never had the opportunity to learn or to escape through reading. She is woefully unprepared for any kind of life.

The terror remains palpable throughout the story. Even when Mary is safe, there is a whisper of fear lurking somewhere close. Adamson’s prose vividly paints landscapes and portraits while holding tension of suspense and the unknown. The characters who help Mary are outlanders, too- the gentlewoman, the ferry man, Crow Indian Henry and his white wife Helen, The Reverend Bonnycastle, the dwarf McEchern, and the hermit Ridgerunner. Canada’s worst rockslide in its history in the mining town called Frank has its role here as well.

Gil Adamson has given us a page turner in her first novel. Enjoy!

RCW -Neighborhood Reader

William Talmadge had a face that only a mother could love- lumpy, pockmarked, somewhat misshaped. Never mind that his mother had died while he and his sister Elsbeth were hardly more than children, or that his father’s death earlier had impelled his mother to march her two young children in a near fatal journey from Oregon to a high, isolated valley in Washington State where she planted an apple orchard. Then she died. William lovingly cared for the apples and Elsbeth until she walked into the woods one day and never returned. The only love that William had left was his orchard, but apples don’t love in return.

Gentle William remains reclusive in this turn of the century novel, until two filthy girl children steal fruit from him while he dozes at the marketplace. Later they appear at the orchard, watching from afar, like two feral kittens. William leaves food for them on his porch which they take, yet they won’t speak with him at first. Jane and Della, both very pregnant, have suffered unimaginable physical and sexual abuse and have escaped their captors. William becomes their protector, a role which he relishes, but had not enjoyed since sister Elsbeth’s disappearance years ago. Neither Jane nor especially Della accepts William in this role, but William cannot relinquish it..

When their abuser shows up, Jane and Della make decisions as to how they will face him. Both are equally life changing and heartbreaking. William feels that he has failed Della and Jane, but Jane’s daughter Angeline gives his life purpose. He thrives on loving, nurturing, and training Angeline to tend the orchards with him. As his herbalist friend Caroline states, “ …the point of children is …to bind us to the earth and to the present, to distract us from death. A distraction dressed as a blessing, but dressed so well and so truly that it becomes a blessing.”

This moving story embraces love, loss, change, and our own individual reactions to the same set of circumstances. It shows us that many times our dearest family members are chosen, and not an accident of birth.

Ms. Coplin’s novel is psychological, emotional, and beautifully written.If you enjoyed Peace like a River or The Outlander you will also enjoy The Orchardist.

RCW – Neighborhood Reader