Фэнни Флэгг - The Wonder Boy of Whistle Stop

At first, he faced some resistance from the older Bible-based members. Some people remembered Jessie’s bad behavior, and there were complaints that he was a little too loosey-goosey with his preaching. But with a little effort, he soon found plenty of appropriate Bible verses that filled the bill and everyone came back into the fold.

Word spread about what good, positive sermons he was giving and soon there were not enough seats in the small church. He was having to do an eight, nine, and eleven o’clock service to get all the people in.

When the big Piggly Wiggly supermarket at the old Eastwood Mall closed, Jessie saw his chance and quickly rented out the space. Within three years he had created a megachurch that seated over five thousand. His Sunday service had become so popular that soon it was broadcast live over WBRC-TV, right after the Country Boy Eddie show.

BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA

1982

OPAL BUTTS HAD called her old friend Gladys Kilgore in Tennessee, and they were catching up on the latest news about the old Whistle Stop gang. Gladys was astonished at what she heard.

“Jessie Ray Scroggins is now a preacher? Why, Grady must have arrested that boy over twenty times. You have got to be fooling me.”

“No, I’m not. After Reverend Scroggins died, Jessie Ray got himself some kind of minister’s license and took over his daddy’s congregation. And at first people were a little leery about going, given his criminal record and all, so he started out real slow, but over time he’s built himself quite a following. So many people were coming that there weren’t enough seats to fit everybody. Now he’s preaching over at the old Piggly Wiggly supermarket building, right up the street from me.”

“You’re kiddin’ me.”

“No. I go every Sunday. It still feels a little weird to be worshipping in the same place where I used to buy my produce, but he’s an awful good preacher, Gladys. He puts out a good, positive, things-to-live-by message, and you always feel good when you leave.”

After she hung up, Gladys was still in a state of shock. “Jessie Ray Scroggins? A preacher at the Piggly Wiggly supermarket?” But she guessed it must be true. You couldn’t make that up if you tried.

—

JESSIE RAY HAD been clean and sober ever since he came back from Florida, and had completely turned his life around. He had his church, his wife and children back, and was doing great. But they say that no matter how long you are sober, you can still have a slip.

One night, Jessie Ray found himself sitting in a neighborhood bar. He suddenly realized he was drunk. And he knew he had to get home right away. He somehow found his car keys and stumbled to his car. He was almost home, only a few blocks away, but as drunk as he was, he still felt a slight thump as he drove over it. He must have hit a speed bump.

The next morning the police were at his door, and he was being arrested for a hit-and-run felony. That slight bump had been the body of a ten-year-old boy he’d run over and killed. As the police were handcuffing him and dragging him to the squad car, he started screaming at the top of his lungs for his wife. “Help! Help!”

Then Jessie suddenly woke up, bathed from head to toe in a cold sweat with his heart pounding. He sat up in bed, gasping for air, and realized it had been a dream. He kept repeating, “It was just a dream. It was just a dream. I’m still sober! Thank you, God. Thank you, Idgie.” He quickly threw back his covers and jumped out of bed, and ran into the kitchen to give his wife a great big hug. He hadn’t gotten drunk. He hadn’t run over a little boy after all. He was not going to jail today.

OFTEN PEOPLE SAY “Let’s keep in touch,” and then don’t. This was not the case with Evelyn and Ruthie. After their short time together when Bud was in the hospital, they called and chatted with each other almost every day. A few times Ruthie even went over and spent the weekend with Evelyn in Birmingham, and Evelyn would sometimes drive over to Pine Mountain, Georgia, not far from Atlanta, and meet Ruthie for lunch. And as friends get closer, they start to tell each other everything.

Today Ruthie was telling Evelyn about her daughter, Carolyn Lee. “Now, I love her, but we have never been very close. Certainly not as close as I would like. Carolyn can be…well…a little shallow. But I blame that on Martha Lee and her influence on Carolyn. Anyhow, it’s a disappointment. I’ve tried. But when we do get together, all she really wants to talk about is what outfit she is going to wear to the next party, or the important people she has met.

“Her husband, Brian, is a nice boy, but they’re both caught up in the Washington social life, always going from one party to the next. I just hope that the marriage holds up, because if Carolyn was ever thrown into the real world…I worry. Now, my son, Richard, is, well, he’s cut from a different cloth than Carolyn. He’s his own person, and he was always pretty much that way. When he was younger, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he said, “I’m not sure yet, Mother, but I do know I don’t want to be unhappy.”

Evelyn said, “Wow, I wish I’d been that smart. When I was young, I always knew what everybody else wanted me to be, I was clear on that. And both of my children seemed to always know what they wanted to be, and they went out and did it. But I never knew what I wanted until I met Ninny and started working at age forty-eight. But what about you, Ruthie? What did you want to be?”

“Oh, gosh, Evelyn, you’re going to laugh if I tell you. It’s so lame.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Well, when I was younger, I was always kinda shy. But there was this restaurant in Baltimore where we used to go for special occasions, and when you walked in, this beautiful lady would greet you at the door and make you feel so welcome, and escort you to your table.”

“Like a hostess?”

“Yes, I guess that’s what you would call it, a hostess. Anyhow, at the time I thought she must have the most glamorous job in the world, looking pretty, greeting people, making them feel special. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you ever heard?”

Evelyn shook her head. “No, not at all. Hey, when I was sixteen I wanted to be a nun, and I’m not even Catholic.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Ruthie. “Just think, I could be here talking to Sister Evelyn, or, knowing you, Pope Evelyn the First.”

CHRISTMAS 1997

From: Dot­Weems@­hotmail.­com

Hey gang,

I hope you got my last one. I am still not sure how well this email thing works. I keep pushing the wrong button. Hard to teach an old dog new tricks, I guess.

—

So, another year and we are still alive and kicking. The highlight of our year was that our old friend Opal Butts, who was on her way to Florida, stopped by here to say hello. She is still as pretty as ever! Remember in 1927 when Opal was crowned Miss Whistle Stop and represented us in the Miss Alabama contest and we all went to cheer her on?

We still think she was robbed. How many girls do you know who can tap-dance and play the spoons at the same time? No matter who won, Opal will always be our Miss Alabama.

By the way, don’t you miss all the good old movie stars? I do. We saw Pillow Talk on the classic movie channel last night. What a hoot. And they just don’t make movie stars like Fred and Ginger anymore. Try as I may, I can’t seem to get excited about the new ones. I don’t even know their names and couldn’t tell you one from another. I guess it happens to us all. My mother had been wild-eyed about a heartthrob named Rudolph Valentino. “Who’s he?” I remember asking. See what I mean?