| General Fiction posted December 1, 2024 | Chapters: |
-1- 2 
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A fresh calling
A chapter in the book Ben Paul Persons
Ben Paul Persons
by Wayne Fowler
This is a continuation of the ‘Right in the Eye’ segment of the ‘One Man’s Calling’ story of Ben Persons, Tony Bertelli, and Slim Goldman (Diddleknopper) and now Ben Paul Persons. This will complete the story. For those who’ve not reviewed the 136 preceding chapters, I welcome reviews (edits and suggestions).
Here are the 136 in a nutshell:
After earning his Minister’s credentials, the original Ben Persons joined a wagon train west at 19 y.o. following God’s call. Several miraculous events led him from Colorado to Chicago then San Francisco, and ultimately to Alaska. Ben died in a winning gunfight against the ‘Bad Man of Alaska’. Ben Paul was born almost nine months after his father’s death.
The tale continued with Tony Bertelli, a Chicago youth befriended by Ben. Following graduation from the Moody Bible Institute, Tony ultimately accepted the pastorship of a St. Louis church. A life-threatening circumstance prompted Ben Paul and his mother to come to Tony’s and Ellsabeth’s aide, from Santa Rosa, California. Though Ben Paul was only twelve y.o., he shot-gunned to death a man intent on his own, as well as Tony’s family’s destruction.
The ‘One Man’s Calling’, transformed to ‘Another Man Is Called’, then became ‘Right in the Eye’, Slim Goldman’s tale of rescue by Ben Persons while in the Colorado gold country. Slim, after miraculously surviving a decades-long coma, came to in 1971. Slim decided to pursue a search of his rescuer in his quest to learn of the ‘One’ who Ben Persons prayed to. The search took him to Ben Paul Persons who had just retired at age 81 from pastoring in Santa Rosa.
In a similar quest, seeking out his father’s history, Ben Paul traveled to Creede, Colorado, where he met and married the granddaughter of his father’s first love. Sylvia is the granddaughter of Livvie. After a series of events involving mystery and murder, their dog, Benji, accidentally discharged a shotgun, killing Ben Paul’s and Silvia’s assailant.
Here the tale takes up with Ben Paul and Sylvia (Sylvie) as they decide to travel the nation, in part, tracing Ben Person’s origin.
Thank you, dear FanStorians, for sticking with the stories and for your much-appreciated editing helps. I hope you can accept that Ben Paul at 82 is the new 72 by the grace of God.
Of course, the first part of a new work should be gripping, action-packed, spell-binding drama. Maybe I’ll rewrite, melee-ing Ben Paul and Sylvia in a life-or-death battle, we’ll see. For now, though, here’s chapter 1 substituting for 137 for the benefit of those unwilling to reach into the archives. For the blood-thirsty among you, skim this one, and the next chapter, as well. I’m just setting the tone for the ‘wet’ work. In a normal book, these three chapters would be combined.
*This preambulational prologue stretched the post to an unseemly length (over 2000 words). If you need a break (nap, snack, or brisk walk), now would be a good time.
Chapter 1
Ben Paul Persons, the son of famed Ben Persons, lived 81 years before ending the criminal life of Colorado State Trooper Detective Donald Albion, with the help of his and Slyvia’s trusty pooch, Benji, of course. For 81 years Ben lived the comfortable and rewarding life of a small-town pastor, preaching God’s word, seeing people become saved, tending God’s flock. The Jesus Revolution greatly impacted his church. Retirement brought him to the perils experienced by his father, the man who killed Alaska’s bad man, Soapy Smith.
Sylvia Adams is the granddaughter of Livvy and Williams Ferlonson, the first love of young Ben Persons, Ben Paul’s father. Livvy and Ben met in Alpine, Colorado, after Ben left his wagon train family in Santa Fe –following the lead of God’s will. Sylvia wrote a rough history of Creede, Colorado, a history provoking Ben Paul’s interest as he sought to learn of his long-deceased father. In short order, Ben Paul and Silvia married.
“Well, what now?” Sylvia asked after fueling their vehicle.
“A nap?” Ben Paul suggested with a winking glance at Sylvia.
She reached and caressed his thigh as she concentrated on the road ahead. Thirteen years his junior, Sylvia didn’t mind doing most of the driving. Neither did she mind him nodding off for a few minutes as they made their way to Cerrillos, the hometown of their true friends, Slim and Mary, owners of a motel where they would stay a few days recuperating from an ordeal of death and destruction.
“Sylvie,” Ben Paul began as he stirred from a power nap on their way back home. “Had a thought.” Sylvia’s brows perked as she trained one eye on her recently wed husband while generally aware of the mostly empty road.
“No urgency to go to California – my sister we can visit sometime. But I’ve a mind to do some touring, a bit of history, a bit of sightseeing.” He looked square at Sylvia, waiting her reply.
After a moment, she did. “Heard southern Utah’s nice. Slim and Mary would watch Benji.”
Ben Paul smiled. “We could hike to waterfalls, mountain tops, see those arches and natural bridges I’ve heard about.”
“Not too sure about the mountain tops, but the rest sounds fun.”
Ben Paul continued, “Trace the Old Spanish Trail, the Santa Fe Trail…”
“I read Eisenhower’s puttin’ together a route from Chicago to Los Angeles, a Route 66,” Sylvia added.
Ben Paul was fairly certain that Route 66 predated Eisenhower, that he was concentrating on a national highway system, but let it go. “Were we to venture northward, we could drive the old Lincoln Highway, the route from New York City to San Francisco.”
“Make a giant loop. I wouldn’t mind seeing the Empire State Building.”
Ben Paul smiled, sensing their mutual excitement.
“How we going to pay for all that high-fallootin’ traveling?” Sylvia asked.
“We both draw Social Security. We travel cheap, YMCA some nights. I could write some letters and set up some preaching dates.”
Sylvia eyed him, “A regular Aimee Semple McPherson, are you?”
Ben Paul laughed. “No hanging from the rafters or howling at the moon, but God has enlightened me somewhat.”
“I know he has, Ben Paul. I know he has.” Sylvia reached to stroke Ben Paul’s cheek.
+++
“How ‘bout this one?” Ben Paul asked Sylvia as he folded the Alamosa newspaper automobile ads. 1970 Ford Fairlane? It has a V-8, AT, PB, 3speed, a heater and a radio, and 32,000 miles.”
“Gladys over at the Collector’s Office has one of those,” Sylvia replied before Ben Paul could state the asking price. “She can’t hardly get up her own driveway off 149. And in the winter her right rear wheel just spins. But that’s a lotta miles.”
Ben Paul moved on to the next ad he’d circled. “A 1965 Olds Cutlass. 330 c.u. but 87,000 miles, new tires.”
“Cubic inch,” Sylvia detailed. “That’s a V-8. Kinda old, though. Might be all rusted out.”
“315 hp – horsepower,” Ben Paul added as Sylvia began to open her mouth. “Three-speed manual for $850.”
“The power is better. Three hundred horsepower could easily carry four people up these mountain grades. A bit high priced, though, ‘specially for that many miles. It’s ‘bout worn out.”
“And the rust,” Ben Paul returned, moving on. “Here it is,” Ben Paul said, a bit of excitement in his voice. “I remember seeing these up and down Santa Rosa Avenue, around the courthouse square to Mendocino Avenue, and loop around Wendy’s at one end and the High School at the other. Didn’t matter if the kids had hot cars or not, that was the thing to do. They’d go past Luther Burbank’s home and gardens where I’d spend evenings on occasion. Loud cars and louder music. I’ll tell you.”
“Bad, huh?” Sylvia asked.
“Oh, no. Not really. They were good kids. A bit wild, some of them. Some got drafted. A couple went to Canada. But what I really remember was that a lot of them came to the Jesus Revolution movement, filled my church many a time. They were serious, too.” Ben Paul dropped his paper and closed his eyes.
Sylvia gave him his moment.
Presently Ben Paul resumed his car search. “Anyway, a 1967 GTO. Now that was a thing of beauty.”
“There was one here in Creede, I recall,” Sylvia said. “Bob Moore got it for his son. Bob was a real estate agent. Did very well. The boy wrecked it just a few weeks after. He drove it right into the Five and Dime. Bob couldn’t get any listings after that and moved to Canon City a year later.”
“1970 Ford Galaxy 500. 8,000 miles. 351 V-8 with 250 horsepower. With a Cruise-O-Matic AT. PB, A/C, radio, heater, and four-doors – like new.”
“How much?” Sylvia asked, her ears perked, giving Ben Paul her full attention.
“Asking $1800.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, but it says it’s ‘like new’. Off the lot that car probably went for three to four thousand, closer to four, my guess.”
“Might need tires,” Sylvia said.
“We still have my insurance money. And we could sell your car for five hundred.”
“More like four.”
“Still.”
“Any more we could look at since we’re all the way over there?” Sylvia asked.
“We could look in a couple car lots.”
Sylvia nodded as she struggled to get her coat off the hook.
“I think I’ll look for a different kind of coat rack,” Ben Paul said.
“Ah, no need, We’ll be travelers this time next week.” Sylvia offered Ben Paul her prettiest smile. “I’m anxious to hear you preach, my preacher man. With that she hugged him tightly. “Thank you for marrying me.”
Ben Paul nuzzled Syvia’s neck. “I’m the eternally grateful one, my beautiful bride.”
Three kisses and a few minutes later they were bound for Alamosa.
“Ben Paul,” Sylvia said. “Let’s get a road atlas while we’re in the city and plot our trip.”
“Best we can, anyway.” Ben Paul agreed. “We have those five preaching engagements. And I expect more as soon as we’ve done a few of those.”
“We can head out from Los Cerrillos, right?”
“Wouldn’t go any other way. Spend a couple days with Slim and Mary, and then the Sunday after in Santa Fe.”
This is a continuation of the ‘Right in the Eye’ segment of the ‘One Man’s Calling’ story of Ben Persons, Tony Bertelli, and Slim Goldman (Diddleknopper) and now Ben Paul Persons. This will complete the story. For those who’ve not reviewed the 136 preceding chapters, I welcome reviews (edits and suggestions).
Here are the 136 in a nutshell:
After earning his Minister’s credentials, the original Ben Persons joined a wagon train west at 19 y.o. following God’s call. Several miraculous events led him from Colorado to Chicago then San Francisco, and ultimately to Alaska. Ben died in a winning gunfight against the ‘Bad Man of Alaska’. Ben Paul was born almost nine months after his father’s death.
The tale continued with Tony Bertelli, a Chicago youth befriended by Ben. Following graduation from the Moody Bible Institute, Tony ultimately accepted the pastorship of a St. Louis church. A life-threatening circumstance prompted Ben Paul and his mother to come to Tony’s and Ellsabeth’s aide, from Santa Rosa, California. Though Ben Paul was only twelve y.o., he shot-gunned to death a man intent on his own, as well as Tony’s family’s destruction.
The ‘One Man’s Calling’, transformed to ‘Another Man Is Called’, then became ‘Right in the Eye’, Slim Goldman’s tale of rescue by Ben Persons while in the Colorado gold country. Slim, after miraculously surviving a decades-long coma, came to in 1971. Slim decided to pursue a search of his rescuer in his quest to learn of the ‘One’ who Ben Persons prayed to. The search took him to Ben Paul Persons who had just retired at age 81 from pastoring in Santa Rosa.
In a similar quest, seeking out his father’s history, Ben Paul traveled to Creede, Colorado, where he met and married the granddaughter of his father’s first love. Sylvia is the granddaughter of Livvie. After a series of events involving mystery and murder, their dog, Benji, accidentally discharged a shotgun, killing Ben Paul’s and Silvia’s assailant.
Here the tale takes up with Ben Paul and Sylvia (Sylvie) as they decide to travel the nation, in part, tracing Ben Person’s origin.
Thank you, dear FanStorians, for sticking with the stories and for your much-appreciated editing helps. I hope you can accept that Ben Paul at 82 is the new 72 by the grace of God.
Of course, the first part of a new work should be gripping, action-packed, spell-binding drama. Maybe I’ll rewrite, melee-ing Ben Paul and Sylvia in a life-or-death battle, we’ll see. For now, though, here’s chapter 1 substituting for 137 for the benefit of those unwilling to reach into the archives. For the blood-thirsty among you, skim this one, and the next chapter, as well. I’m just setting the tone for the ‘wet’ work. In a normal book, these three chapters would be combined.
*This preambulational prologue stretched the post to an unseemly length (over 2000 words). If you need a break (nap, snack, or brisk walk), now would be a good time.
Chapter 1
Ben Paul Persons, the son of famed Ben Persons, lived 81 years before ending the criminal life of Colorado State Trooper Detective Donald Albion, with the help of his and Slyvia’s trusty pooch, Benji, of course. For 81 years Ben lived the comfortable and rewarding life of a small-town pastor, preaching God’s word, seeing people become saved, tending God’s flock. The Jesus Revolution greatly impacted his church. Retirement brought him to the perils experienced by his father, the man who killed Alaska’s bad man, Soapy Smith.
Sylvia Adams is the granddaughter of Livvy and Williams Ferlonson, the first love of young Ben Persons, Ben Paul’s father. Livvy and Ben met in Alpine, Colorado, after Ben left his wagon train family in Santa Fe –following the lead of God’s will. Sylvia wrote a rough history of Creede, Colorado, a history provoking Ben Paul’s interest as he sought to learn of his long-deceased father. In short order, Ben Paul and Silvia married.
“Well, what now?” Sylvia asked after fueling their vehicle.
“A nap?” Ben Paul suggested with a winking glance at Sylvia.
She reached and caressed his thigh as she concentrated on the road ahead. Thirteen years his junior, Sylvia didn’t mind doing most of the driving. Neither did she mind him nodding off for a few minutes as they made their way to Cerrillos, the hometown of their true friends, Slim and Mary, owners of a motel where they would stay a few days recuperating from an ordeal of death and destruction.
“Sylvie,” Ben Paul began as he stirred from a power nap on their way back home. “Had a thought.” Sylvia’s brows perked as she trained one eye on her recently wed husband while generally aware of the mostly empty road.
“No urgency to go to California – my sister we can visit sometime. But I’ve a mind to do some touring, a bit of history, a bit of sightseeing.” He looked square at Sylvia, waiting her reply.
After a moment, she did. “Heard southern Utah’s nice. Slim and Mary would watch Benji.”
Ben Paul smiled. “We could hike to waterfalls, mountain tops, see those arches and natural bridges I’ve heard about.”
“Not too sure about the mountain tops, but the rest sounds fun.”
Ben Paul continued, “Trace the Old Spanish Trail, the Santa Fe Trail…”
“I read Eisenhower’s puttin’ together a route from Chicago to Los Angeles, a Route 66,” Sylvia added.
Ben Paul was fairly certain that Route 66 predated Eisenhower, that he was concentrating on a national highway system, but let it go. “Were we to venture northward, we could drive the old Lincoln Highway, the route from New York City to San Francisco.”
“Make a giant loop. I wouldn’t mind seeing the Empire State Building.”
Ben Paul smiled, sensing their mutual excitement.
“How we going to pay for all that high-fallootin’ traveling?” Sylvia asked.
“We both draw Social Security. We travel cheap, YMCA some nights. I could write some letters and set up some preaching dates.”
Sylvia eyed him, “A regular Aimee Semple McPherson, are you?”
Ben Paul laughed. “No hanging from the rafters or howling at the moon, but God has enlightened me somewhat.”
“I know he has, Ben Paul. I know he has.” Sylvia reached to stroke Ben Paul’s cheek.
+++
“How ‘bout this one?” Ben Paul asked Sylvia as he folded the Alamosa newspaper automobile ads. 1970 Ford Fairlane? It has a V-8, AT, PB, 3speed, a heater and a radio, and 32,000 miles.”
“Gladys over at the Collector’s Office has one of those,” Sylvia replied before Ben Paul could state the asking price. “She can’t hardly get up her own driveway off 149. And in the winter her right rear wheel just spins. But that’s a lotta miles.”
Ben Paul moved on to the next ad he’d circled. “A 1965 Olds Cutlass. 330 c.u. but 87,000 miles, new tires.”
“Cubic inch,” Sylvia detailed. “That’s a V-8. Kinda old, though. Might be all rusted out.”
“315 hp – horsepower,” Ben Paul added as Sylvia began to open her mouth. “Three-speed manual for $850.”
“The power is better. Three hundred horsepower could easily carry four people up these mountain grades. A bit high priced, though, ‘specially for that many miles. It’s ‘bout worn out.”
“And the rust,” Ben Paul returned, moving on. “Here it is,” Ben Paul said, a bit of excitement in his voice. “I remember seeing these up and down Santa Rosa Avenue, around the courthouse square to Mendocino Avenue, and loop around Wendy’s at one end and the High School at the other. Didn’t matter if the kids had hot cars or not, that was the thing to do. They’d go past Luther Burbank’s home and gardens where I’d spend evenings on occasion. Loud cars and louder music. I’ll tell you.”
“Bad, huh?” Sylvia asked.
“Oh, no. Not really. They were good kids. A bit wild, some of them. Some got drafted. A couple went to Canada. But what I really remember was that a lot of them came to the Jesus Revolution movement, filled my church many a time. They were serious, too.” Ben Paul dropped his paper and closed his eyes.
Sylvia gave him his moment.
Presently Ben Paul resumed his car search. “Anyway, a 1967 GTO. Now that was a thing of beauty.”
“There was one here in Creede, I recall,” Sylvia said. “Bob Moore got it for his son. Bob was a real estate agent. Did very well. The boy wrecked it just a few weeks after. He drove it right into the Five and Dime. Bob couldn’t get any listings after that and moved to Canon City a year later.”
“1970 Ford Galaxy 500. 8,000 miles. 351 V-8 with 250 horsepower. With a Cruise-O-Matic AT. PB, A/C, radio, heater, and four-doors – like new.”
“How much?” Sylvia asked, her ears perked, giving Ben Paul her full attention.
“Asking $1800.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, but it says it’s ‘like new’. Off the lot that car probably went for three to four thousand, closer to four, my guess.”
“Might need tires,” Sylvia said.
“We still have my insurance money. And we could sell your car for five hundred.”
“More like four.”
“Still.”
“Any more we could look at since we’re all the way over there?” Sylvia asked.
“We could look in a couple car lots.”
Sylvia nodded as she struggled to get her coat off the hook.
“I think I’ll look for a different kind of coat rack,” Ben Paul said.
“Ah, no need, We’ll be travelers this time next week.” Sylvia offered Ben Paul her prettiest smile. “I’m anxious to hear you preach, my preacher man. With that she hugged him tightly. “Thank you for marrying me.”
Ben Paul nuzzled Syvia’s neck. “I’m the eternally grateful one, my beautiful bride.”
Three kisses and a few minutes later they were bound for Alamosa.
“Ben Paul,” Sylvia said. “Let’s get a road atlas while we’re in the city and plot our trip.”
“Best we can, anyway.” Ben Paul agreed. “We have those five preaching engagements. And I expect more as soon as we’ve done a few of those.”
“We can head out from Los Cerrillos, right?”
“Wouldn’t go any other way. Spend a couple days with Slim and Mary, and then the Sunday after in Santa Fe.”
Ben Persons: young man called of God (1861-1890)
Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protege' of Ben persons (Sr)
Soapy Smith (Jefferson Randolf Smith) was killed by Frank H. Reid in a gunfight in Alaska
Pays
10 points
and 84 member cents
(and maybe more). Ben Paul Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons (1891-)
Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy (1904-)
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: wife of Slim
Tony Bertelli: protege' of Ben persons (Sr)
Soapy Smith (Jefferson Randolf Smith) was killed by Frank H. Reid in a gunfight in Alaska
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