Flashback: Rev. Arthur Blessitt and His Place (October 1968)
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| His Place, Late 1960's ___________________ |
(Hollywood)
Jeff, Eleanor,
Pam, and I were hanging out at Wallich’s, though not much was happening.
Eleanor met up with Jim, her new guy, and split.
Before Pam, Eleanor and I had been getting close, but now we seemed to be
pulling away. Maybe it was because she was still in high school. True, she had
all this freedom to come and go as she pleased and did drugs on weekends, but
she still had to go to school and do her homework, so we didn’t do as much
together anymore.
When we were roommates, I had to be quiet on weeknights.
I also found out that Eleanor wasn’t supposed to do drugs on school
nights, only on weekends; her dad came down hard on her when he discovered she
was dropping acid on weekdays.
Rick, who stood me up the previous night, showed up.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Sorry about last night.”
I tried to act nonchalant. “It’s cool.”
Rick eyed Jeff up and down and threw his arm around my waist.
“Hey,” Pam said. “Let’s go to His Place.”
“What’s that?” Jeff asked.
“It’s this really cool church on the strip, filled with freaks,” I said.
“I don’t want to go to church,” Rick said.
“It’s not an ordinary church,” I said. “You’ll just have to see it to
believe it.”
“I heard someone spiked the Kool-Aid with acid one night,” Pam said.
“Groovy! Getting high for Christ!” Jeff said.
“Over a hundred kids were stoned out of their gourds. Must’ve freaked out
Rev. Blessitt.”
“Gives Jesus freaks a whole new meaning,” I said. “I can’t even imagine
being around 100 acid heads. In church, yet.”
“Good thing the pigs didn’t get wind of it,” Rick said.
“Funny thing. The cops weren’t even around that night. How lucky was
that?” Pam said.
“I still don’t wanna go,” Rick said.
“Come on, it’s really far out, and they serve food,” I said, suddenly
starved. I couldn’t eat the gruel served at the dorm: Fish sticks and
overcooked broccoli.
“Bagels and sandwiches, Kool-Aid –” we all snickered “– and coffee.”
“I am hungry,” Rick said.
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| Witnessing at His Place, 1968 ________________________ |
*
When we
arrived at His Place, a toilet service had just begun.
Rev. Blessitt read from the Bible,
“Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a
new creation; old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” [2
Corinthians 5:17].
A few heads witnessed in the john as they tossed their dope into the
toilet and sang,
Down, down, down, down,
All my dope is gone.
Down, down, down, down,
All my dope is gone.
I fished around in my pocket; I still had that Blue Cheer from Rudy’s
party two weeks ago – no way was I going to dump it down the toilet and watch
it swirl away.
After the service ended, we dug in and ate bagels smothered with peanut
butter and jelly.
We hung around for a bit.
I don’t buy into the religious bit, but I can’t help it: I like Rev.
Blessitt. He believes in what he does, not just going through the motions, like
some of those priests back home. The Reverend puts his ass on the line every
day, and the Establishment kicks it daily, especially the religious
Establishment. What hypocrites. You’d think they’d want to help Rev. Blessitt
in his mission. But they can’t see past the run-down church on the strip, the
long hair, and the dope.
Still, there was something creepy about ex-heads taking up Jesus in place
of acid.
The worst converts in the world, always shoving tracts and Bible
verses in your face, the “Eithers/Ors,” the black and whites – you’re either
for Christ or against him, no room for doubt.
If I wanted to be told what to believe, I’d still be going to Mass.
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| Hippies and others just hanging out. Everyone was welcome. Late 1960's ___________________________________________________________ |
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2023 Update: Rev.
Arthur Blessitt is now known as “The man who carried the cross around the world
in every nation, The World’s Longest Walk as listed in the Guinness World
Records.” He seems to have scrubbed his webpage of His Place years. His Website
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“Flashback: Rev. Arthur Blessitt and His Place (October 1968),” © copyright 2013 - present, by Jennifer Semple Siegel, may not be reprinted or reposted without the express permission of the author. Published in Memoir Madness: Driven to Involuntary Commitment
The Kool-Aid story is only a story. The bagels were stale. The toilet hardly ever flushed properly. But Rev. Blessit gave off colorful auras during his sermons. People are strange.
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