Four Pews from the Front

By Herb Lawlor

Princes shall come out of Egypt, Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hand unto God; the word has been written, take heed my brothers and sisters, the word has been written; I carry the blood of royalty in my veins, my body is filled with the Holy Spirit, my kingdom awaits; what is this mess those people say about me?

I am not a prince, I think not; the word has been written, the cast has been set, my majestic heritage has been revealed.

This book is the result of God’s inspiration, his Forgiveness, Grace and Mercy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665532594

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Copyright © 2021 Herb Lawlor. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/20/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-3260-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-3259-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Foreword

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Epilogue

September 11, 2001

Bibliography

In Memory Of All Those That Influenced My Life

Peter, Pete, Donahue, Janet, Zachariah

THE WOMEN IN MY LIFE

Marie, Elizabeth, Satara, Lynelle, Onija, Beverly,

Vivian, Minnie, Rose, Iva, Elisa and Mary

FOREWORD

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Don’t Look Too Close an Addict Bares His Soul

The old adage of what you see is what you get, is a myth that has no basis when you are referring to an addicted person. I being an addicted person, will dispel this myth by revealing my own life story, and image I showed to the world. Coming, from a family where education, strong moral fiber, and individual excellence were stressed, I had no other choice but to do everything as if my soul depended on it, and it was drilled into me until I thought it was (my soul) in jeopardy. My parents weren’t hard people, they were proud and religious they stressed the accomplishments of my other family members, my uncle the PhD, my cousin the CPA, my sister the teacher, etc., along with their strong belief in God and how he looks after us. I was expected to be at the top of my class in school, I had to play sports well, and I had to be active in Church. I demonstrated all of these things to my parents and family, I was class president years after year, always the star player or first string in all sports, and I played Little League, Pop Warner Football, Junior High and High School Basketball. Not to forget the church choir, junior usher board, Sunday school, etc. What does this look like the neighbors and other family members? I was the kid that every parent wished his or her kids were like. What you see, right?

No, you had a child that had to do more and to have more just to get through the day. This was done to accommodate my parents’ wishes and their goals for me, but soon I could not differentiate between their wishes and my own compulsion to achieve. The ramifications of this atypical behavior on my part would not surface until later years; there were some early indicators, but nothing really significant.

What you see? A young man, who is multidimensional, multifaceted, motivated, and is striving for more and more, everything he sees and does, he has to have more. Obsessive—this is just the beginning. This obsessive and compulsive personality will remain with him until late in life.

What you get, a young man with a growing ego problem, he relinquishes his ties with his parents and other family members, he becomes more self-centered, he becomes very selective when it comes to people. His contention is that the world is just a vehicle for his own personal growth. Genuineness, sentiment, humility is all lost to this young man, his attitude towards life and people are now well ingrained into his personality.

No one seems to notice the change that was taking place, only because no one was allowed to get close enough to notice. The first drink and the first drug used were instantly intertwined into my life; these like everything else became a vital part of life. The combination of drugs and an obsessive-compulsive personality set new criteria for my life.

Now we have a man rapidly approaching middle age, with a problem he does not want to face. He knows what is wrong with his life but he is reluctant to change it. The alcohol and drug use only provide short-term relief at best and you add the additional financial burden, plus the sudden depression after using the drugs - we are now looking at two more problems added to his growing list.

He tries going to college, new relationships, a new job, all of this helps, but are temporary and unfulfilling. He becomes hostile, rebellious; his attitude worsens, he goes back to more drinking and more drugs. Now he is faced with the realization of not being able to help himself.

The next time you see a person, whom you think has it all together, remember: What you see is not always what you get."

Life will mold you, it can make you strong or it can break you spirit. Life can lift you to great heights, or take you on a downward spiral that seems endless. I was taught as a child to call on God in times of trouble or pain. To tell him, what is wrong in my life, to pray for his forgiveness, his mercy, his grace.

It was not until I understood the process of prayer, that I got saved. All I had to do was ask God’s forgiveness and I was delivered.

Today I spread the word of God’s love, to all that will listen.

CHAPTER I

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Sunday mornings were always a difficult time at my house, my two brothers and two sisters, all trying to get ready for Sunday school, and my mom and dad dressing for church. We would go through this each and every Sunday; you would think we would have it together by now. The three of us boys fighting over someone has someone else’s shirt or socks, who knows about my sisters, they never wanted to go to church. My mom would be fixing breakfast for us, and daddy would be preparing his lesson for teaching Sunday school. All of this would come to an end, when daddy would call us to prayer. After the prayer, we would leave, ready or not. Sunday school was fun until my brothers and I moved up to Daddy’s class, we had to know the lesson, we had most of the reading, and we were involved in every play or event that included children. together stays together—right? A family that prays it’s just another old saying passed down from generation to generation, but I’, getting ahead of myself. Sunday’ s after Sunday school was my time with Daddy, everybody else went home, and I stayed with Daddy for church.

Four pews from the front, was our seats, we always sat in the same place. First Baptist Church of God in Christ is a large Gothic building that spans three corners of Brownsville, Brooklyn. The windows are stained glass, the brick front is from the turn of the century, and the styling would remind you of the larger Catholic churches in Manhattan. Although the building was large, it maintained that intimate feel. First Baptist had three hundred regular members, but everybody knew everybody else. There were two or three generations of families that attended services. We maintained three choirs, Elders, Beacons, Ushers, Mothers of the church, and a number of youth ministries. Usually half way through the service, I’d lie down and Daddy would put my head on his lap. I mentioned to Rev. Johnson, as a child I would always fall asleep during his sermon, he would laugh and say that a lot of the adults did also. I loved the singing part of the service, a feeling would come over me, I felt warm and protected, and all was all right in the world. Rev. Johnson’s voice would carry through the whole church, right after the choir would stop singing; he would begin to speak. When he moved your eyes followed, at any change of his voice you responded, he was in control and I loved it.

Reverend Johnson was an elegant man, educated, confident, never would there be a wrinkle in his suit, everything always fit, and his silver gray hair gave him the look of distinction. Daddy and Rev. Johnson were good friends; Daddy did not call many people friend. Most of Daddy’s friends still call him Mr. Lawlor; Daddy would tell us if a man finds two friends in a lifetime, he is a rich man. Rev. Johnson and Daddy got along because they both had strong personalities. I know today it was an alliance that was formed due to the rise of some strong willed women that were pushing for change. Rev. Johnson foresaw a power struggle coming. The male leaders of the church were dying off and there were no males to step in and fill those vacant roles. The women were getting and holding more and more influential positions in the church. The climate at First Baptist was about to change; there was a change that was about to come into my life.

I would always come early to Junior Choir practice on Saturday, Mr. Rose was the choir leader, and he taught and led the entire choirs at First Baptist. Like Rev. Johnson, Mr. Rose always looked like he walked out of the pages of Esquire magazine. He was of slight build, but all of us feared him. When Mr. Rose talked, you stopped t whatever you were doing and listened. I had this real high singing voice, and Mr. Rose would keep me in front of the choir. I would learn every song and have my robe cleaned and ready for when we were scheduled to sing. When we had to sing at other churches, Daddy would always attend. My other family members were no longer interested in outside activities. The family that prays together stays together right. This Saturday started out like any other; it was winter in New York, which didn’t make much difference. I got to the church and waited for rehearsal to being. Mr. Rose handed out music of next Sunday’s service. Mr. Rose played the music for our first song, I really liked the up tempo beat. I listed to the beat and was looking over the words, Mr. Rose said from the top; he did not even look up from his organ. Pam was one of the lead singers; she had a great voice for a 12-year-old. Mr. Rose played and Pam began her part, when it was time for my section to come in, I was ready. I remember hitting a note that sounded strange to me Mr. Rose heard it too; Mr. Rose stopped playing and asked who that was? He knew it was me, and said, Lawlor, I want to hear that note again. Mr. Rose played the music and I took a breath and opened my mouth, it happened again, it was an awful sound. All eyes were on me and MR. Rose asked me, Lawyer how old are you? I replied that I just turned 12. Mr. Rose stopped rehearsal and too me to the side, he explained how a male child’s voice changes once he reaches puberty, and my voice had changed. Mr. Rose id not check my voice range, he sent me to Mrs. Fisher, who was in charge of the Junior Ushers. Mr. Rose’s words were not sharp, but the hurt as if he had yelled at me. As I left, the words of the lord came to me, Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding, trust in the Lord. Today, I do understand that singing was not my gift from God; it would be sometime until it was revealed to me.

I joined the Junior Usher Board and Mrs. Fisher took me under her wing. all things we do. Daddy reminded me that we take pride in Daddy told me that God has a purpose for your life, it may not be clear now, but it will. Daddy must have sensed by disappointment from having to leave the choir, he told me to always remember that no one is better than you are, some people may be better prepared, but no one is better. If you are going to make it in this world, you will have to be better prepared than the next guy. I felt Daddy s pride when he spoke these words; he was one of the best in his profession. Daddy was very proud of our family me bers; he would show us newspaper clippings of my uncle teaching at John Hopkins University, then him getting his PhD, cousins in graduate school, nurses, etc. Then he told me something that would haunt me most of my life. Daddy told me that as you grow, so will our family, and you will lead the way. This bothered me mainly because I was the sixth child out of seven. I also knew that I did not want that responsibility, and that I had been seeing things outside of the church that interested me.

In our neighborhood, there were men that took numbers; we called them number runners. Numbers is a game of chance, you pick three numbers and you bet that the number will come out and the number bankers paid three hundred dollars to your one-dollar, if you pick the right numbers and the order they come out. These guys, everyone knew, and they’d be moving, going from house to house, store to store, people would call them out of there and he would hold up two fingers, if a two came out, five fingers if a five came out. They would be dressed real nice everyday and they always seemed to have money. Then you see the bankers, with their shiny new Cadillac’s driving around. They usually had a candy store or restaurant when they hung out. Next, were the hookers, they were fine—with their tight fitting clothes and made-up faces. Something about these people excited me, once it started to get dark, I could see them from our front porch or out the window— moving, laughing, seeming to be having fun. Hindsight is really great; I can look back over my life and see the warning signs of God. Even as I watched out my window, the Lord spoke, enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. The Lord said he knew us in the womb, he already knew that a change was about to come.

CHAPTER II

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Motivate to Elevate

1963, we moved from Crown Heights to Brownsville Brooklyn, Daddy had moved out on his own, it was just mom and the four of us kids. The place was much smaller and we did not have a backyard to play in, but mother made it home. For the first time I had to travel to school. I learned to take the bus to school, which was in our old neighborhood. I was in the sixth grade and it did not make sense for me, I to transfer to a closer school. Up unti1 now, the kids I played with played handball, softball and a little hardball, I learned to play each game and found that sports came easily for me. I our new neighborhood, we 1ived directly across from an elementary school and part. The neighborhood guys were always in the park, but they mostly were playing basketball. It did not take me long to begin meeting people, the older kids would be playing basketball and the rest of us watched. We only got a change to play after the older guys were finished. start, this was the game for me. I knew from the very When the older guys played, people would stay and watch them, and cheer and call their name, and if you messed up, they would let you know it. These guys were good; in every group you have some standouts, in ours it was Larry, Cube and Red. Larry was six-foot-three, but could put his elbow in the rim; Larry played for High School basketball until he dropped out. Red was about five-foot-nine and also made his High School team. Red’s High School played in division I A, where all of the best High School basketball teams played. Cube was a High School dropout, but he had the best all-around game. Cube was five-foot-nine and one of the fastest players I’ve seen. Every time there was a pick-up game, if they were there, they would get picked. I would watch the guys play for hours and then I would get to play.

My first summer on Macon Street was spent in the schoolyard watching and playing every chance I got. Summertime on Macon Street was great; there were kids of all ages. My sister established her own friendships, my brother Mel and I are a year apart, and he was the oldest, but we hung-out with some of the same guys. My younger brother Joe found his own age group. Things were not much t different for me, when my parents split up. On Sundays, I was in church with Daddy, during the week I would go pick- up money for the family from him. I went because my brothers and sisters were angry with him for leaving home. To this day no one but my mother and father know why they separated after 30 years together. I learned how to play the game early in life, I could go to mother and ask for anything and get it. I would clean up the house, run errands for her, mom taught me how the cook, clean, to take care of myself. The other kids did only what they had to, daddy would teach me about his business, dry cleaning, he taught me