Brother Roberts’ Traveling Salvation Show

By Elton Camp

(This is an excerpt from my unpublished book, The Granny Room: A Story of a

Southern Family. It’s set in Alabama in the first half of the 20th Century.)

When a traveling preacher arrived to set up a tent meeting, it was always an

exciting time. Most of those men sincerely wanted to help people, but a few had other
motives. Usually they represented no particular denomination, had little education, and
might even be illiterate.

For Brother Roberts, an open pasture was his preferred location. The Alf Teal
place provided such a spot; it’d been used for that purpose many times over the years.
The preacher and his crew arrived the day before he intended to commence services. The
men staked their large white tent and pulled it up into position. Underneath, they placed
as many rows of folding chairs as they could squeeze into the limited space. A wooden
platform, about a foot high, served as a pulpit. The preacher brought his own small band
since music was an important part of the service.

“Free. No admission charged,” read the banner erected near the road. Wagons,
buggies, and horses began to arrive about an hour before the scheduled beginning of the
service. Most were dressed casually, not in their “Sunday-go-to-meeting” clothes. They
talked excitedly among themselves. Children ran and played in the pasture beyond the
tent.

Brother Roberts observed to one of his assistants, “Peopl’ seem t’ b’ freerer to

except whut they needs from th’ Lawd ef they don’t half to worry how they dress ’r’ act.”

The band struck up a lively tune, “Turkey in the Straw.” Then it switched to
gospel music to set the right tone for what was to follow. All eyes were on Brother
Roberts as he strode briskly to the front of the audience and mounted the stage.

“Brethren and Sistern, we’s heer t’ have a joyful time ez we praize the holy name
o’ Jesus,” he shouted as he raised his hands toward heaven. A rapturous smile spread
across his face. “Ain’t thet right good people?”

The audience responded with cries of “amen” and clapping. Many of the ladies
began to swish paper fans with thin wooden handles. They had pictures of Jesus or
angels on one side and an advertisement for L.W. Bryant General Merchandise on the
opposite.

Roberts delivered a long, impassioned prayer while the audience stood with their
heads bowed and eyes shut. It ended, “Come, Lord Jesus, Amen.”
 The man began his sermon by describing, in emotional terms, his own conversion
and calling to be an evangelist. He boasted that he’d brought salvation and assurance of a
place in heaven to hundreds of sinners. True believers could expect tongue talking,
healings, and other manifestations of the Holy Ghost. He claimed to have no set sermon,
but to be led by the spirit to say the right things. Any who didn’t believe his utterances,
he assured his audience, must expect eternal damnation.

“Their wuz a rich man,” he proclaimed. “He didn’t ker nothin’ fer th’ pore folk
ere fer whut wuz right. One day he died ’n’ wuz carri’d off t’ b’ wif th’ de’vil t’ live in
hellfar. Then he wish’d he’d bin more gener’us wif his money, but hit war too late.” He
had laid the foundation for what was to follow.

Although the tent revival had been advertised as “free,” he went on to tell how
desperately money was needed to carry on his ministry. It was the first of several such
appeals. By the end of the service, “love offerings” were virtually demanded.

“The Lawd says that the tenth part’s hissin. Ef ye don’t give th’ tithe, ye air
stealin’ from God. “Bring in the tenth, says He.” His assistants passed the collection
plate for the first of several times.

The evangelist either didn’t know or remained silent about context. The tithing
arrangement was part of the Jewish Law to compensate the tribe of Levi for priestly
services and because they didn’t receive an equal share of the Promised Land. Not a
single Israelite sat in his tent that night.

The service continued. As Brother Roberts begged for manifestation of the Holy
Ghost, he suddenly began to shake and talk in a tongue. The gibberish was mixed in with
his normal speech at several second intervals. The audience gasped at his demonstration
of Divine gifts. He then lapsed into several sentences uttered in the unknown tongue.
Older women bowed their heads and their lips moved as they prayed silently. The men
reached for their money pouches.

Healings didn’t start until the second night of the tent revival. It took that long for
his assistants to arrange for shills. Two of them brought in a young man lying on a
canvas stretcher and placed him on the ground in front of the preacher.

“What’s yore name, son?” he asked. A tear ran down his cheek as he spoke.

“Ets Jacob, Reverend,” he answered. His voice was barely audible. He reached
up and clasped Robert’s outstretched hand.

“Whut wud ye have th’ Lawd d’ fer ye tonight?” Roberts inquired. “Ask ‘n’ ye
shall receive if only ye has faith.”
 “I wuz throwed b’ my horse. Now I can’t walk no mor’. Help me ef y’u kin,”
Jacob requested with a louder, but wavering voice. Some of the women in the audience
began to sob.

“Son, I can’t do nothin’ fer ye. I am jest a channel fer th’ power ’o’ th’ Lawd
Jesus Christ. If ye believe, he kin heel ye.”

“I do believe,” Jacob said with a stronger voice.

Brother Roberts got on his knees beside the stricken man. He looked up toward
heaven and began to pray. “Lawd, this here boy ez fill’d wif a demon of paralyses. I
know ye kin do all things. Heal this man ’n the name o’ Jesus.”

He placed the tips of his fingers on both hands against Jacob’s body and yelled,
“Heal! Heal!”

Jacob began to quiver and moan. At each repetition of the command to heal, he
moved more violently and cried out louder. “I feel the spirit comin’ inter me. Thank ye,
Lawd. Thank ye.”

“Git up ’n’ walk,” Roberts ordered.

Jacob made a couple of weak attempts to sit up. Roberts took his hand and helped
him to his feet. “Show us ye bin healed, son,” he ordered. “Ye know ye kin do hit.”

Jacob took a couple of unsteady steps, but reeled uncertainly. Suddenly he

seemed to gain strength and commenced to pace back and forth in front of the audience
and shout.

“I been healed!” he yelled. “Hit’s a miracle. All these months I couldn’t walk ’n’
now I kin. Glory t’ th’ Lawd. Thank ye, Broth’r Roberts.”

The audience began to cheer and clap. Cries of “Praise th’ Lawd” arose from
various ones. The assistants led Jacob from the tent as he continued to testify as to his
miraculous healing. Only when he was out of sight in the darkness, did one of them slip
him the agreed-upon ten-dollar bill.

“We’ll b’ nigh t’ Gadsden in two weeks,” the assistant whispered. “We kin use
y’u ‘gain there ef y’u will.” The shill winked and nodded his head in agreement.

Jacob waited in the darkness until his girl friend, Sally, got healed of her grievous
affliction. Off they went to enjoy the welcome windfall. If the devious action bothered
them, the payment more than made up for any qualms of conscience.

“Thet preacher’s crooked ez a dog’s hine leg,” Jacob stated. Sally grinned and
squeezed his hand as she contemplated spending her newfound wealth.
 The tent disappeared after five days. The contributions gradually declined until
they no longer met Brother Roberts’ expectations. He’d “stripped the Egyptians” all he
could. Soon, he’d have a new flock to serve.