The Devil in Pew Number Seven by Rebecca Nichols Alonzo Page A
Authors: Rebecca Nichols Alonzo
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point out, “The church members are behind me. It’s just a couple of families that want to run me out. They want to get the leadership of the church back. . . . But we’re not leaving. We’re staying.”
Daddy explained why he wouldn’t abandon the church. “A good shepherd will lay down his life for his flock,” Daddy said. “It is a great pleasure to live for the Lord. And there would be no greater honor than to die for Him. After all, all of the apostles except for one died a violent death.”
Mr. Cheek raised his eyebrows in surprise: “Are you really willing to die, if necessary? Why not just do what most people would do and fight back?” he asked.
“Violence typifies the spirit of the opposition,” Daddy said, dismissing the notion of fighting fire with fire. “They are not Christian people. I know who they are. I know they are violent, mean-spirited people. I will only leave this church if it is the Lord’s will. And if it is the enemy’s will for us to leave, then it is God’s will for us to stay.”
During the interview, Mr. Cheek learned about Daddy’s days playing football, his four years in the Navy, and his reputation as a former brawler. I am quite sure Daddy wasn’t kidding when he said, “Those boys—I know who they are and they know who I’m talking about—just better pray to the good Lord that I don’t backslide. Because I have never met a man I couldn’t whip.”
Mr. Cheek asked Daddy, “Could it ever come to that, Reverend? Could you become so frustrated, knowing who’s bedeviling you and your family but being unable to prove it, that you’d revert and go after them?”
“No,” Daddy said flatly.
Mr. Cheek noted Daddy had a “faint, beatific smile on his face” as he answered. Rather than retaliate, Daddy admitted, “I’d leave here first. I would never answer them with the same weapons they use against me.”
“If so,” Mr. Cheek wondered aloud, “when will it end?”
“Only when you read the devil’s obituary, I’m afraid,” said Daddy. “And I’m afraid that may take more than a few years to happen.”
* * *
On December 6, 1974, the Friday after that dreadful Wednesday night blast, the mail arrived, and with it, an unsigned, cryptic letter was included in the usual assortment of bills and advertising circulars. Punctuated with threats, filled with bad grammar and typos to conceal the identity of the sender, the letter promised, “We are going to get the job done.” Which could only mean one thing: the recent explosion wasn’t the last of the bombings in Sellerstown.
There would be more.
We did not receive this ominous letter.
It had been mailed to the home of Mr. Horry Watts. The handwritten note told Mr. Watts 17 “to keep your mouth out of our business” and added that “the job [of getting Nichols out of the area] will be done without . . . your advice or help.” Mr. Watts wasted no time making a big deal about how he, too, was being targeted by the anonymous bully. He promptly contacted the police about the note. Detective George Dudley met Mr. Watts and retrieved the letter as evidence.
For his part, Detective Dudley had to determine what to make of this latest development. Had the menacing letter been mailed by the real culprit behind these bombings? Or did Mr. Watts send it to his home in hopes of taking some of the heat off himself for the recent acts of intimidation against us? From the detective’s point of view, 18 Mr. Watts had the motive, he had the influence, and as owner of the local farm store, he had the means to secure the raw materials for the explosions.
But circumstantial evidence wasn’t enough.
Detective Dudley needed concrete proof.
* * *
There’s an old saying in the public-relations business: “All press is good press, even when it’s bad press.” If my family were seeking media coverage, which we weren’t, we’d soon succeed by becoming the epicenter of attention in the local newspapers.
Daddy explained why he wouldn’t abandon the church. “A good shepherd will lay down his life for his flock,” Daddy said. “It is a great pleasure to live for the Lord. And there would be no greater honor than to die for Him. After all, all of the apostles except for one died a violent death.”
Mr. Cheek raised his eyebrows in surprise: “Are you really willing to die, if necessary? Why not just do what most people would do and fight back?” he asked.
“Violence typifies the spirit of the opposition,” Daddy said, dismissing the notion of fighting fire with fire. “They are not Christian people. I know who they are. I know they are violent, mean-spirited people. I will only leave this church if it is the Lord’s will. And if it is the enemy’s will for us to leave, then it is God’s will for us to stay.”
During the interview, Mr. Cheek learned about Daddy’s days playing football, his four years in the Navy, and his reputation as a former brawler. I am quite sure Daddy wasn’t kidding when he said, “Those boys—I know who they are and they know who I’m talking about—just better pray to the good Lord that I don’t backslide. Because I have never met a man I couldn’t whip.”
Mr. Cheek asked Daddy, “Could it ever come to that, Reverend? Could you become so frustrated, knowing who’s bedeviling you and your family but being unable to prove it, that you’d revert and go after them?”
“No,” Daddy said flatly.
Mr. Cheek noted Daddy had a “faint, beatific smile on his face” as he answered. Rather than retaliate, Daddy admitted, “I’d leave here first. I would never answer them with the same weapons they use against me.”
“If so,” Mr. Cheek wondered aloud, “when will it end?”
“Only when you read the devil’s obituary, I’m afraid,” said Daddy. “And I’m afraid that may take more than a few years to happen.”
* * *
On December 6, 1974, the Friday after that dreadful Wednesday night blast, the mail arrived, and with it, an unsigned, cryptic letter was included in the usual assortment of bills and advertising circulars. Punctuated with threats, filled with bad grammar and typos to conceal the identity of the sender, the letter promised, “We are going to get the job done.” Which could only mean one thing: the recent explosion wasn’t the last of the bombings in Sellerstown.
There would be more.
We did not receive this ominous letter.
It had been mailed to the home of Mr. Horry Watts. The handwritten note told Mr. Watts 17 “to keep your mouth out of our business” and added that “the job [of getting Nichols out of the area] will be done without . . . your advice or help.” Mr. Watts wasted no time making a big deal about how he, too, was being targeted by the anonymous bully. He promptly contacted the police about the note. Detective George Dudley met Mr. Watts and retrieved the letter as evidence.
For his part, Detective Dudley had to determine what to make of this latest development. Had the menacing letter been mailed by the real culprit behind these bombings? Or did Mr. Watts send it to his home in hopes of taking some of the heat off himself for the recent acts of intimidation against us? From the detective’s point of view, 18 Mr. Watts had the motive, he had the influence, and as owner of the local farm store, he had the means to secure the raw materials for the explosions.
But circumstantial evidence wasn’t enough.
Detective Dudley needed concrete proof.
* * *
There’s an old saying in the public-relations business: “All press is good press, even when it’s bad press.” If my family were seeking media coverage, which we weren’t, we’d soon succeed by becoming the epicenter of attention in the local newspapers.
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