Two days later, Priscilla and I drove into the southwest business district of Houston. Across the street from the Galleria with its hotel, office building, ice-skating rink, and three floors of high-end stores, sat Berachah Church with its modest steeple and a very large parking lot.
It was just afternoon and there were about 10 cars in the parking lot. We picked a spot near the office door and let us ourselves in. As we wandered around, we discovered a large auditorium with theatre style seating rather than traditional pews. Placed in a semi-circle, they faced a small stage with a podium, backed by a choir loft with a large screen hanging from the ceiling for some sort of overhead projection system. This was 1970, long before the ubiquitous PowerPoint presentation. It was unusual for any type of projection system in college classrooms, much less in a church! [I would eventually have the job of cleaning the long rolls of celluloid used for the overhead projector.]
As we were walking around, one of the staff members discovered us and explained that we would have to vacate until later that evening. With our tails between our legs, we excused ourselves as “new tapers” having just arrived from Wisconsin. Even though I had long ago cut off my long hippie-style hair, I was sporting a neatly trimmed beard. With the beard, I stood out like a sore thumb. This was Texas and Col Thieme and his congregation did not tolerate non-conservatives, much less some beardo-weirdo from Wisconsin! In spite of my unusual looks, we were politely escorted to the office and introduced to the Colonel himself.
Expecting a reprimand, I was totally caught off guard when the Colonel stood as we entered the office and offered an outstretched hand. Inviting us to sit for a minute, he politely listened to a brief recap of our journey. At about 6’0, he was stocky and muscular with close-cropped hair, but not a military buzz cut. He looked like the ex-football player and Air Force officer that he was. I found myself won over by the lively twinkle in his eyes and the pleasant smile on his face.
After being welcomed by the Colonel, we were off to find apartments to rent. We found apartments for each of us in a complex within walking distance of the church. It only took a few minutes for each of us to get totally moved in as we only had a few changes of clothes and sleeping bags.
Showered and refreshed, we were back at 6:15 to make sure we got a good seat for the 7:30 bible class. As we pulled into the parking lot again, it was already almost completely full. Cars were already being diverted to an auxiliary lot across the street and it was still over an hour before class. Entering the auditorium, at least three-quarters of the seats were already taken, with many people already seated or having placed their bibles and notebooks on the seats to reserve spots for friends and family members.
Priscilla and I were fortunate to find two seats right in front of the podium about four rows back, within “spittin’ distance” of the Colonel. A tall and lanky man in his early twenties was sitting next to us and he struck up a friendly conversation. He mentioned that we could leave our books on our seats and he would give us a tour of the building before the class began. Standing to follow him, I felt really self-conscious in spite of the warm reception that we had received from Col Thieme earlier. As I turned to survey all the people sitting behind us, I realized that I was the only person in the quickly filling building with a beard. And, except for the women, I had the longest hair.
Our tall friend led us out an exit just to the left of the podium, taking us around behind the choir loft. There were a number of rooms back here. There was one that was the main control room for the PA and tape recorders. It was fronted with one way glass that looked out onto the podium. Just a little further down the hall was larger room that housed about 30 or so reel-to-reel recorders, also with a long one-way window that looked out on the podium and congregation. These recorders were staffed by congregation members who were queuing up multiple machines. They would launch them just as the Colonel began his nightly introductory warm-up of quotes from several favorite scriptures, spilling out of the hallways to take their seats before the opening prayer. [Within in the week, I would be running my own recorder and would file out to take my seat every night. This would continue every night and three times on Sundays for most of my nine years in Houston.]
We were also shown the glassed-in rooms behind the auditorium that were used for Sunday School classes, but more importantly as “overflow” rooms for those who did not arrive in time to get a seat inside the auditorium. Our tour complete, we took our seats, opening our bibles and notebooks—most people took copious notes. After nine years, I ended up with notebooks that filled an entire bookcase.
Our first night was exciting. I have no idea what was discussed in the Colonel’s lecture. It is probably misleading to say “discussed.” There was no discussion at all. The Colonel lectured. We took notes as fast as we could scribble. At one point, the Colonel looked down and gestured to us, explaining that we had just traveled all the way from Wisconsin to get our teaching “face-to-face.” There was this idea that it was somehow more powerful to get your teaching face-to-face with the Colonel than on tape. Well, it was certainly more dynamic, especially being mentioned as we were that first night!
The following night, we had the routine down. We arrived a full 90 minutes before class, reserved our same seats, and began to get to know some of the people around us. A few minutes after we got settled in, our lanky friend came by and handed me a small brown paper sack, calling it a gift. Inside I found a safety razor and can of shaving cream. He said that the Colonel had thought I might want to “trim” my beard.
I thought, “Houston, we have a problem!” I hated shaving. I have a very thick beard that grows quickly. When I was in Navy training, I had to shave three times a day to keep my drill instructor off my back. No matter how closely I shaved, I still looked like I needed a shave. I thanked him, smiled and said I would certainly consider “giving it a trim.”
The following morning, I began to trim my beard, cleaning off the rough edges. And then I decided to go ahead and take the plunge. I was in Texas now, in the midst of a bunch of conservatives who wouldn’t be friendly to someone who looked “different.” I wanted to stay out of the limelight. If shaving would help me fit in, why not do it?
That evening, as Priscilla and I took our now customary seats, the Colonel looked down from the pulpit with a smile and said, “That looks nice, Jeff!” I was one of them now!
