The Revival - The Diary of Starling Thompson by Mark Orr

The following is a short story by Mark Orr culled from his genealogical research, family
stories passed down through generations and his imagination. Mark is a photographer
and genealogist living in Henry County, Indiana. Henry County was the setting for author
Ross Lockridge Jr.'s fictional novel "Raintree County".

Henry County's history is rich with stories of hard working pioneers who migrated here in
the early 1800'. The county also has some of the most beautiful scenery in the United
States. Indiana is the crossroads of America...the great midwest and Orr's home for over
four decades. .

The people and places in Lockridge's novel are real, However, given fictional names and
some liberties that were taken, the novel is also based on actual circumstances as they
were related to Lockridge through his lifetime. Family stories were "handed down" through
a long line of rich family history.

These tales by Orr about the life of Starling Thompson are likewise a mix of reality and
imagination. Starling was the great grandfather of Orr. Starling, born in 1875 was a farmer
and railroad worker. He was the father of Orr's maternal grandmother and she idolized him.

I hope you enjoy this first short story telling of Starling's experience one hot summer in the
year 1890, and in particular.....an old fashioned, fire and brimstone religious revival held
under a massive canvas tent in Cadiz, Indiana and one sweltering August day that will be
remembered now only through these words of a young Hoosier farmer and schoolboy..

The Revival-The Diary of Starling Thompson 1890

The Reverend Alvin Morris and wife Rebecca.

From the

iary of Starling Thompson (1876-1929)

by Mark Sean Orr-2008

Sunday

August 17, 1890

PART ONE:THE REVIVAL

There we sat in the stifling shade of the tent...not so much as a stir of a breeze.

Women were fanning themselves with the pamphlets the Morris girls at the entrance of the tent were

passing out.

Each program displayed a crudely drawn lighthouse on the cover of it's two page entirety.

Big bold letters on the program's front and signs outside the tent proclaimed this sermon to be

"The Lighthouse-Beacon in the Storm Revival...., CADIZ, INDIANA, August 13-19 in the year of our Lord

1890".

Inside the pamphlet, the masses were invited to "Come sing the praises of God and fight the

treachery of Satan ".

Pop somehow managed to get us the last 7 folding chairs left empty in the sweltering

makeshift tent-church in the

Showalter's meadow.

As I looked down at my Sunday shoes, I thought, this

grass will never grow back and this is only the 5th day of Reverend

Morris's 7 day revival. Two more days

of this and there'll be nothing but dried up dirt and dust.

I reckon passing by Showalters Meadow for the

rest of the summer will be a reminder of how thankful we are that the

summer revival had come and gone.

Not that I'm agin' God or revivals mind you.....it's just the heat and the crowd that gets to me....and

the shouting and

repenting ... mostly the shouting and repenting.

It's so hot this year...hotter than most

August days and that's saying something. "Dog day's" my grandma calls em. "Not fit

for man nor beast".

It's so hot this year I'm not sure even God will show up for the Reverend Morris's annual revival.

I'm not sure what transpires at these revivals, but they tend to make normal people act peculiar .

Must be something about

the atmosphere and the knowing of the past history of heated and fiery

sermons. A mix of anxiousness, obligation and

terror preva

during and prior to the 7 day event each

year. Part of the Reverend's followers arrived in each town a week

before to erect the tent and get the

locals riled up. . These revivals are attended en

masse with people coming from

surrounding counties

and some as far away as Ohio, Kentucky and Illinois. Throughout Henry County, there are few who

are at

home or elsewhere during revival meetings. Homes and businesses are deserted and all other activities

cease

during each meeting.

So here we sit...awaiting the unknown. What will happen this year is anyone's guess, but no one is

expecting anything less

than a deeply religious experience.

"Brothers and sisters of Cadiz,Indiana.....I give you the Reverend Alvin Morris" shouted Robert

Morris...Reverend Alvin

Morris's oldest child and only son

Large Mrs. Tucker sitting in front of me shifted

her big backside in her seat wearing her yellow and green flowered cotton

dress (almost making the tiny

foldin

chair disappear), and settled in for a long sermon. Behind me Mr. Kissinger let out a

stifled belch

and the thick aroma of hard whiskey wafted up and surrounded me like a heavy fog might do to a row

boat.

As the crowd settled down , I realized I should have gone to the outhouse again before we were

trapped here for God

knows how long. The root beer I had at Seley's Market on the way into town had

gone straight through me. But there was

no way I was gettin up now and risking the disapproving glare of

the good Reverend and my folks. The show had just

begun .

"Hallelujah my brothers and sisters"

said the Reverend ..

."thank you for coming. I see many

a familar face and some new

one's as well".

The Reverend then commenced preaching for what seemed like days but was actually about 2 1/2

hours. He spoke of

sin.....and told us that we are all sinners and bound for hell unless we change our

ways. "For no one is righteous" ...he

quoted the Bible...".no not one!" And then he spoke of the rapture.

This is the part that always got to Jama

she had

nightmares about waking up to an empty house with all

her family carried off to heaven by a huge bird called a" Rapture",

leaving her (a sinner she thought)

home all alone......and all the dead people coming back to life. A real horror story for

such a small child.

The Reverend quoted from "Thessallonians"

"For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of

the Lord will by no

means precede those who are asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven

with a shout, with the voice of an

archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise

first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be

caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the

Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord."

The Reverend's voice crescendo'd until he was shouting out the sermon, pounding the pulpit, pacing

back and forth...his

face blood-red and dripping with sweat! His audience was completely still and fixated

on his presence and every single

word. Even Mr. Showalters dogs who had found a good shady spot in

the corner of the tent looked attentive as if they were

taking in every word as well.

The sermon was tumultuous, littered with "Amens" and Hallelujahs". There was praying, weeping and

repenting and

people down on their knees. It was riveting...the man knew how to strike fear in the hearts

of us sinners.

Then he was silent for a moment, motioned to his son to pass around the collection plate and

everyone breathed a little

easier while reaching into their pockets for the offering. I saw pa' lean in to ma'

and whisper "Nothing like the fear of eternal

damnation to make a man dig real deep in his pockets".

While that was happening, Mrs. Rebecca Morris started playing the organ.....and we sang..... "Old

Rugged Cross"," In

The Sweet Bye and Bye" and "Whispering Hope". It was at this time that Ginny

Runyan caught my eye. She was the

prettiest girl in Henry County (and she had the prettiest singing

ice

e too), I had plans to make her my girl this summer and

maybe even get a kiss before school started

again in September. She came to all my baseball games every summer and

cheered me on. I just hadn't

gathered up enough courage to talk to her much outside of school and the baseball field. But

this summer

was going to be different.

After the final chorus of "Whispering Hope"....

the tent's occupants were worn out and silent. They

looked as if they'd been

poured into their seats...hot and sweaty , wilted from the heat and the fiery

sermon. But the Reverend wasn't finished yet!

He then started his finale........the big finish and the fat lady

was definit

ly going to do something tonight, but it probably

wouldn't be singing...of that there was no

doubt.

After the singing....Reverend Morris got to his feet and you could tell he had a head full of steam. He

pounded the pulpit

with fisted hand using every ounce of energy he had and shouted:

"DejaVu!

!!!

and everyone's focus shifted quickly

back to the makeshift pulpit.

"I feel like I've been here before at this very time in this very place.....in fact I HAVE been

here before. You know how?"

No one answered.

(In my mind I yelled out "you have been here before...

every year since I can remember, in the hottest dang month of

summer....and ma and pa make us come

and sit here to listen to your long winded sermons about hell fire and

brimstone!).

Of course that would

never happen and if it did, an outburst like that would bore ma to pieces and it would almost certainly

garner a trip to the woodshed with pa when we got home, although I think a part of him would find it

amusing. He is

respectful of Reverend Morris but not so fond of his epic and fiery sermons.

"I have been here before my brothers and sisters, said the Reverend (in a more subdued

voice)...in a vision from God

(with

much emphasis on the word God so that it came out sounding like

GAWD!).

Can I get an Amen!?

And the flock on cue answered "Amen!".

The good Reverend continued:

"You were here Mr. Creason.....and you Mrs. Lawson...all of

you....and you know who else?"

"God?"...yelled out Lila Creason before she thought better of it, causing her cheeks to turn a rosy

red, suddenly realizing

that it was a rhetorical question.

"No mam'

said Reverend Alvin Morris.......

"God is here and always among us....but there's

another here who we don't

know. But he knows us and he's just as interested in this sermon

as God is...and as you are"

"That someone is....Satan"!

When the Reverend said Satan...he spat it out in disgust and defiance....the "s's" sounding like a

nest of snakes making

their way from the pulpit down through the congregation.

Here we go I thought...now Jama will have nightmares for a month of Sundays. I saw my little sister

clutch on to momma's

arm and dig her fingers in real tight til her tiny knuckles turned white.

"YESSIREE"

said the Reverend.......

"Satan is here (now shouting and pointing twoards the

back corner of the tent) and he's

sitting right back there in that corner...waiting...to do battle.....

for your souls!"

There were those snake-like s's again at the end of the word souls.

The entirety of the congregation, with the exception of the last row, turned forthwith to look to the

back of the tent in the

direction the Reverend pointed out, half expecting to see Satan himself seated in

the corner, a big smile on his face,

drinking a Dr. Pepper and enjoying the heat of the day. What they saw

was a wide eyed Mr. Clemens, the old colored man

who sold indian artifacts and other oddities my pa

called junk around town, and who lived out on the edge of Blue River. Mr.

Clemens, briefly panicked, then

in an instant of quick thinking turned his head to look back at the heavily worn canvas of

the end of the

tents make-shift wall, thereupon turning back around as if to say...."nope...no satan here".

The Reverend went on....

"Yes, Satan is here and ready to do battle for your souls, but you'll

notice he's not up here with me

or you good folks. He is behind us..........and that's where we

will keep him. SATAN GET THEE BEHIND ME

he shouted in

the hot August afternoon!

hat was the last straw for Mrs. Tucker....she of the green and yellow flowered dress ......what

happened

next would be

told and retold for many a year to come in Henry County.

That was

for Mrs. Tucker. She stood up and let out a howl that stunned the already

shaken

parishioners....the

howl followed by the shrieking voice of a madwoman...."I feel Satan's presence"

she

cried....and then she began citing The

Lord's Prayer with eyes closed and body trembling while she

ran

up and down the aisle of the tented church. It was a sight

to behold for sure.

Thinking myself a relatively experienced revivalist, and having known Mrs. Tucker for quite some

time, I knew that

something on a grand scale was about to happen....and something sure did alright.

Upon her approximate 10th lap up and down the aisle of the tent, she ran smack dab into one of the metal

poles that were

supporting the tent.....a huge red lump started growing immediately across her entire

forehead, yet she kept on running ...

up and down the aisle looking totally deranged....mad as a hatter!

When she finally returned to the place where her chair

stood , she collapsed , and not only did she take a

fall....she landed smack dab on top of poor old Mr.Tucker who was

about 100 pounds less earthly than

she, toppling him and his chair

...

and they both proceeded to hit the ground a ton... her

prostrate upon

the

top of him, her large, sweaty body covering him almost completely.

Once there she convulsed violently for several minutes before completely succumbing to to a coma-

like state, exhibiting no

signs of life whatsoever. I was sure Mr. Tucker would be maimed for good.

When the metal pole surrendered to the collision with Mrs. Tucker and toppled over to the ground,

part of the huge tent collapsed upon part of the congregation. Adults grabbed children and ran towards

the darkness

of the oncoming night

outside the tent. Babies cried and dogs headed for the woods, hind

legs catching forelegs.

y God, she's dead" cried someone from the crowd.

The parishioners gathered round her,babies

till

crying, Mr. Showalter

s two hound dogs

, the only

two dogs who hadn't deserted the sinking ship,

were barking, Jama was now

actually on top of ma's lap,

desperat

ly trying to crawl all the way up to mama's head. The other women fanned air onto

Mrs. Tucker

with their pamphlets and most of the men tried to help extricate Mr. Tucker,

some trying hard to

hold back

hysterical

laughter

and some wide-eyed with fear

Once t

hey

had

precariously removed Mr. Tucker from underneath his wife

, h

e professed no injuries

The rotund and flower

dressed Mrs Tucker awoke a few minutes later....speaking of how she had felt the

presence of God and the devil and

witnessed a battle of unprecedented equal between good and evil,

and the saving grace of s

vation. She had felt as light

as a feather and as qu

ck as a derby horse! She

had seen heaven, hell and everything in

between!

What a grand finale for the Reverend's sermon this day. His face showed a triumphant smile and I

imagine he knew at this

moment that his sermon today would not soon be forgotten.

Now I'm not saying he's a charlatan or someone who revels in the angst of others, I'm just saying he

enjoyed a tumultuous

church service and the status he had brought upon himself on behalf of his

righteous cause. I think P.T. Barnum would tip

his top hat in respect and hum

ility

to the Reverend Alvin

Morris

on that hot August evening.

Barnum had Tom Thumb , Jenny Lind and the Swedish Nightingale,

but Reverend Al could make even a normal midwest

housewife do the most amazing things with just a few

carefully crafted words.

After the r

uckus

, and after Mrs. Tucker settled back in her chair, the exhil

rated Reverend led what

was left of the

crowd , wide-eyed and

weary, but completely full of the Holy Ghost, in a rousing rendition of

"Rock of Ages"

followed by a short prayer of thanks

and then dismissed the reborn soldiers of God into

the humid air, the light growing dim

mer

as the sun

ank even lower in the western sky

I carried a now

xhausted

Jama piggy-back down the road to the wagon and reflected on the

meeting that night and how we

would all be up all night with Jama and her nightmares.

But sure as the sun

sets and rises...we would be right back here

next year for another revival....

od willing.

When we got home, I tucked Jama into bed.

'Starling" said Jama.......if the rapture comes tonight, will you stay with me if God don't take me?".

"Sure would" I replied, "but God aint gonna leave his prettiest angel behind.......

Would you stay with me Jams, if God up and left me behind?"...I asked.

"Nope" she replied with a grin that turned into an unco

trollable giggle.

"Night Starling" she said.

"G'night Jams", I replied. ....."see you in the morning".

"You promise?" , Jama queried.

"Yup.....I promise" said I.

THE END

~ COPYRIGHT INFORMATION~
All information published on this site is protected by United States copyright law and may not be
reproduced, distributed,
transmitted, displayed or published without written permission from Collectors World Online.
Collectorsworldonline.com ®2006-2007-2008-2009-2010
Mark Sean Orr ©

Short Stories by Mark Orr

Cobbler Family from Jackson-Thompson Collection

Contact and comments!