Word: evangelistics
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Down to the footlights in a Los Angeles theatre stepped corpulent Baritone David L. Hutton, husband of Evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson Hutton, whom he is suing for divorce. He smirked to the audience: "I'm very glad to be back in the City of the Angels. You know, I married an angel." When he opened his mouth to sing, Whiz! went an egg hurled by a girl in the front row. Plop! a second egg spattered against the backdrop, dribbled down to the floor. Plop! Plop! Plop! Baritone Hutton lumbered off stage. As stage hands mopped up the eggs...
From the oldtime saloon and penitentiary came many an oldtime evangelist-converted drunks and burglars who could denounce sin after knowing it firsthand. But the most modern and thorough| going sinners are organized. From gangland has yet to come a reformed Capone to make converts as efficiently as he used to machine-gun rival racketeers. Nearest thing to an ex-gangster evangelist is the well-fed, twinkling tub-thumper who was billed last week at a church in a down-at-heel section of Brooklyn as Lou Hill. "Former Hijacker, Gambler, Confidence Man," a Chicago hoodlum turned holy. High point...
...Brooklyn last week with Evangelist Hill was a character rarely seen now in city churches, an "Escaped Nun." Good-humored Lou Hill told of his son, a ''little tike who knows Jesus and rides up and down the street on his velocipede all day long singing 'Onward Christian Soldiers.'" Lou Hill likes to sing himself. In the Bible Church of hoodlum Cicero, Ill. he got himself photographed in an impromptu hymn sing (see cut) with four other gangsters turned evangelist: Bert Baker, onetime Capone man, Fred Jacover, "high class confidence man," Fred Ingersoll, "slickest automobile thief...
...evangelists find their circles narrowing, embracing smaller & smaller towns. Yet they keep on the job. Next month, with the evangelical season about over, most of them will congregate in Winona Lake, Ind. for their annual meeting. Lou Hill will be there. No shouter, no chair-smasher, he has considerable reputation. On the Winona Lake platform he will pinch-hit for the most famed evangelist of them all, old-time Billy Sunday...
...Poet O'Neil makes no attempt to evoke the buffalo-ghost, the broncho-ghost with dollar-silver in its saddle-horn, the pure elixir, the American thing. Poet O'Neil's preachment is the sort of cheap claptrap with which a third-rate evangelist might try to impress a young folks' Bible class. That it impressed the Guild's hard-headed production committee is cause for wonder...