"Happy Am I"

"We're broadcastin' our spiritual exercises. . . . Remember, words are the spirit, the very spirit of life. No matter how big and strong the body may be physically, it's dead without the spirit. When a man pulls a gun and says 'Run,' the word 'run' with the knowledge of the gun does you a spiritual wrong. For, as a man thinketh, so is he. . . . Whatsoever is true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report--If there by any virtue, think on these things. . . ."

Amen. . . . Yassuh. . . . Praise de Lawd.

"The sun is shinin'. The birds are singin'. They're not complainin' 'bout the depression. Why should we?"

Ain't dat de truth! ''Then sing, brethren and sisters." Praise de Lawd. . . . Yeah, man. . . . A men!

Such devotional exercises, interspersed with a rollicking theme hymn called "Happy Am I," have become familiar to many a U. S. radio listener during the past year. Broadcast from Washington over the CBS network every Saturday night, the Church of God of Elder Solomon Lightfoot Michaux is a lively Negro romp, noisy and syncopated as some white folks believe all black worship should be. Last week for the first time Elder Michaux took his choir of 40 and his jazz orchestra of ten out of Washington to capitalize their fame. For his first appearance he chose stolid Philadelphia.

When Elder Michaux advertised for 100 female ushers, 4,000 girls, black and white, applied. When he opened his twelve-day revival in Philadelphia Arena, some 5,000 persons of both colors elbowed in. They bought programs, contributed to a collection. Stocky, gold-toothed and grey-haired, Elder Michaux introduced himself as "The 'Happy Am I' preacher," launched into a sermon praising President Roosevelt. ''The President," said he, "sponsored the NRA BlUb Eagle. I sponsor the NRA White Eagle. The difference is that the first stands for National Recovery Administration while mine stands for National Revival Administration. Any doctor will tell you that you can't have recovery without revival. The same is true of our country.'' The audience cried "Amen'; and "Yeah, man." When Elder Michaux bellowed that "the Devil is right here in Philadelphia and we are going to get him," they stomped their feet and swung into "Happy Am I."

In many ways Elder Michaux resembles Harlem's Major J. ("Father") Divine (TIME, Aug. 7. et seq.). Each declines to tell his age. Each performs good works among poor Negroes. Each lulls his followers with a catchword (Father Divine's: "Peace, It's Wonderful''). Each preaches a warm, rambling theology. But Elder Michaux makes no claim to divinity. Once a fish peddler in Norfolk, he preached in Hopewell, Va., went to Washington in 1929 to found the Church of God under the Gospel Spreading Association. A small Alexandria radio station, WJSV, began picking up his services. When CBS absorbed WJSV, Elder Michaux was the only feature retained for the chain.

Four years ago the businesslike Elder built a brick church in Washington, plastered it with crosses and slogans "such as "Happy Am I" and "Willingly Jesus Suffered for Victory." He lives in a good neighborhood, runs a Negro employment bureau and a Happy News Cafe, and at odd times issues a paper called Happy 'News which consists mainly of articles about Elder Michaux and God. The Elder forbids smoking and drinking among his followers, enjoins fasting both as penance and as means of saving money for the Church of God and its charities. He accepts no salary, only a monthly offering. He has three automobiles, one an ancient Ruxton. His favorite observation: "I don't think God would like that." He also runs churches in Newport News and Baltimore. But for his biggest gatherings he needs large auditoriums or stadiums. Announcing all his programs as coming from "the banks of the Potomac," Elder Michaux sometimes conducts mammoth baptismal services, with white-clad participants splashing in the river or Chesapeake Bay and spectators on gaily decorated barges and excursion boats. Last summer he scandalized District of Columbia officials by asking leave to baptize a flock in the reflecting pool in front of Lincoln Memorial.

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