Player a Pusher: The Motown Preacher

By Michael Jerome Turner

After landing a job in the auto plant in the Motor City, Detroit, it seemed inevitable that Michael would follow in his family's footsteps. Fate would intervene and take him to near top as a deejay, only to then take him down as a crack addict. The one constant was sex and women. Can there be redemption?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662408120

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Player a Pusher

The Motown Preacher

Michael Jerome Turner

Copyright © 2020 Michael Jerome Turner

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-6624-0811-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0813-7 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0812-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Searching

Red Devil

She’s Not Just Another Woman

CupcakeStomach Ache

Here Comes Trouble

Here We Go Again

The Price of Being Nice

Pilot Light

My House Will Serve the Lord

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my late parents, Henry and Annie Turner; my late brother, Ronald; my wonderful, supportive wife, Darlene; my son, Michael, whose encouragement led me to undertaking this most important endeavor. Also, my daughter, Nicole, who provided inspiration to me throughout the process. My cousins Pat and Howard who have always been there for me, and our neighbor friend (Ms. Karen M. Cason) who provided vital, needed help at the right time.

And finally, my beloved grandchildren, Saige (Lil Rabbit), Sasha (Honey Pie), Darvon Jr. (Lil castle), Dylan (French Fry).

To my late second mother, Mattie Butler, Mom, I finally wrote that book!

Preface

Here we are in the year 2020. We find ourselves in the midst of a global pandemic. Spreading all over the world is a highly contagious virus. It’s called the coronavirus or COVID-19. Here in America, there are more than 150,000 people infected. There have already been over 10,000 reported deaths associated with this virus. The virus has spread to all fifty states. As of Monday, April 1, most, but not all, states have in place executive orders for people to stay at home. The only exceptions are to get gas, medicine, and groceries. There is a mood of fear and uncertainty prevalent across the nation. The response to the virus from the federal government under POTUS Donald J. Trump and administration has been thus far abysmal, incompetent, and insufficient at best. The numbers of people being infected and dying is doubling every other day. Professional health-care officials estimates that at the current rate of infection, between 100,000 and 250,000 Americans, will succumb to the virus. And those estimates are based on the premise that everyone in America adheres to the recommendations and orders mandated by state government. If not, then the estimates paint a very grim picture. They project that anywhere from 1,000,000 to 2,000,000 people will die. Closer to home the state of Michigan and the city of Detroit have become fifth in the nation with the most infected people. My pastor and dear friend Rev. Thomas J. Jackson passed away on March 20 from the virus. Also, my former protégé and good friend Donafay Collins passed away from the virus. He was a popular club/radio deejay. He worked for WMXD MIX 92.3 FM.

America leads the world in infected people and deaths from this virus that originated from China. Most of the states in the United States will not reach the apex of the virus for several more weeks. There are many believers and nonbelievers on social media blaming God for the virus and the reasons vary far and wide. One thing I can say for sure is that God is not in the virus spreading business. I have been posting on social media for over the last year that America was under satanic attack. And now here we are. Draw your own conclusions. I strongly believe that God uses people, signs, and events to speak to people. I believe God saved me and brought me forward for such a time as this. This book has been over twenty years in the making. There were many occasions over the years that I sat down to attempt to write this book, but I couldn’t for many different reasons. In hindsight, I know it was because of God’s timing, not mine. Over thirty years ago, God gave me an assignment to carry out and a message to preach. It took me eighteen years to understand the message I was to preach. It is the message of his kingdom government. God’s plan for mankind has never been about religion or the church as we know it for that matter. God wants everyone on planet Earth to become citizens of his kingdom. So that in the end, Earth will be a replica of heaven. Organized religion could never bring this to pass. Religion divides people. The kingdom of God is on Earth right now. It is the only legitimate government there is, has been, or ever will be. In the kingdom of God, there are no shortages of anything. There no have and have-nots.

There is no division because of age gender or race. In the kingdom of God everyone is a have, everyone is a king in their own right, and unlike any other kingdom or government, everyone is related to the king. That’s why I can proclaim with boldness and confidence that nothing matters besides the kingdom, and besides the kingdom, nothing matters. To God be the glory. Thank you for the purchase of this book. It contains language that I no longer use. But I felt it necessary to use to convey my mindset at the time. I hope this book will be entertaining, encouraging, and inspirational. Enjoy!

Prologue

While working at the Blue Chateau, Elaine and Rainy came in with her friend Vanessa. Record-spinning Ben gave me a break. I went down and sat with Elaine and Vanessa and Rainy. The waitress came over to take our drink order. She said hello in general and said, Hello, Red Devil. As she returned and reached across me to give Elaine her drink, I made a mock motion as if I were going to bite her arm.

Elaine went off on me. She had a way with words. In many ways, I guess, I married my mother—bossy, shoot from the hip and short, and go for bad. Only Elaine’s mouth was more vulgar than my mother’s. I could not stand my mother, and the same was true with this bitch!

Oh, so she’s one of your fuck bitches?

What?

Aw, shut up, Michael, you know you’re fucking her. I can tell by the way she spoke to you. Let’s go, Vanessa, and, Rainy.

We had our own cars. She left. I was like, What the fuck. You’ve gone come to my job and embarrass me? Yes, (Yeah) I would like to fuck the (that) fine motherfucker, but I never tried to. I’m trying to be cool. Bitch, fuck you. Wait till I get home. It was difficult doing the rest of my show.

Elaine knew how to yank my chain and didn’t mind doing it whenever she felt like it. It was difficult finishing the rest of my show. Drinking the rest of the Hennessy I had left helped. Tiger Dan had told me it was cheaper to bring my own bottle with me, so that was what I started doing. I went to the men’s room and smoked a joint. It turned out to be a good show.

I had to engage to keep from thinking about this bitch. I got home higher than a kite on a windy night. She was in bed. I entered the bedroom and switched on the light and got on the bed. I pulled the cover off her. I went to swing with my left hand to slap the shit out of her, missed.

As I was swinging with my right hand, she sat up with a knife in her hand, and it met my arm. Blood started gushing everywhere, on the pillows, sheet, and comforter.

What the fuck! Bitch, you done stabbed me! Aw, shit! I’m bleeding!

Searching

Finally, it’s here, graduation day. Murray Wright Senior High, class of June ’72. It had been a struggle to get here, not because I was slow or incorrigible. I was a very bright and intelligent young man. At the time of my graduation, I was still involved in the civil rights movement. I had become disillusioned with school.

Pointless bullshit! I knew you needed an education, but mine didn’t prepare me for shit. College was not an option, so what was I going to do with my life? I thought about becoming an electrician; however, I discovered I had not taken the necessary math classes in high school. For eligibility, I would have to pass the required math classes before beginning electrical school. I didn’t think so.

I visited a refrigerator and heating school. It was on E Grant Boulevard just blocks from my house. I would like to have enrolled, but unfortunately, they didn’t offer scholarships nor any financial aid, and my father couldn’t afford to pay my tuition. So I applied for a job in the auto industry with the big three: Ford, Chrysler, GM.

After all, we’re the motor city, a blue-collar town. Working in an auto plant allowed an unskilled worker to earn a middle-class lifestyle. I applied at all three. On the Monday of the next week, GM and Ford called. The next day, Chrysler called. All three were ready to hire me right away. I didn’t know which one to pick.

My grandfather retired from GM. My mother’s youngest brother worked for GM. Her twin brother retired on disability from Ford. Then there were my grandfather’s two brothers, one worked at Chrysler’s Jefferson Assembly. The other at Chrysler’s Dodge Main in Hamtramck. In the end, I chose GM. Chevrolet gear and axel on Holbrook.

My uncle Cecil worked in the same complex but in a different building. Here I went, following in the footsteps of my family. Fate had called. I started work on Wednesday. My first check was for three days. Over $100, which, for this time, was good money, especially for a seventeen-year-old. I’d always been a happy-go-lucky type of person, took things as they came and took them in stride.

After about sixty-eight days on the job, there was an incident that hundreds of dollars in axel parts were scraped deliberately. Management was in an uproar. They were looking for anyone to scapegoat. I was caught returning five minutes late from my break. It was routine. Our relief man never complained.

It was not company policy. So here I was being led to HR. I was not a member of the union. Even though a union official accompanied me, he could not represent me. Management was going to fire me. At the committeeman’s suggestion, they agreed to allow me to voluntarily quit. Security escorted me out of the building.

Damn, I just lost my job! What the fuck! What kind of bullshit is this?

My relief man told my foreman he didn’t mind me taking five extra minutes. They didn’t give a fuck! I was late coming back.

You’re fired! Case closed.

Aw, shit! That hurts! But fuck it!

At least they let me quit, not get fired. What was the big fucking deal? I don’t give a fuck! Fuck ’em! In the aftermath, I reapplied at Ford and Chrysler. They never called back.

We lived in a four-family flat on Canton Street. Growing up, we lived one block west on Concord Street in a five-unit apartment building. My aunt and first cousins lived in the same building.

In 1964, we moved into our own home on Georgia. My dad couldn’t keep up with the mortgage, so in 1966, we landed on Canton. Three years later, my cousins moved off Concord to the Charles Terrance Projects. My mother wanted to be close to her parents. They lived one block to the east on Helen Street.

My first cousins Robert and Howard became friends with Wayne whose family moved to Detroit from Birmingham, Alabama. Wayne lived on Helen at the opposite end of the block from my grandparents. Wayne liked my cousin Pat. After they moved, he and I became best friends. My cousin Robert said he was going to attend a recently built school, Phillip J. Murray Wright Senior High School.

Their older sister Barbara graduated from their district school northeastern before they moved. Howard and Pat followed Robert. The school was not in my district, so for me to attend, I would need to graduate from junior high school with a B average. I was attending summer school at the time.

Hanging with Wayne, I skipped school so much I received EAB for the first card, marking E absent, wasn’t in attendance enough to receive a grade. I was summoned to my counselor’s office. I was told if I wanted to pass the class, I must make up the work from the first half of the semester, complete the second half and finals.

When I applied myself, I was capable of great achievements. I aced all the work and finals. However, the highest possible grade I could (would) receive for each of the three classes was a C+, not enough to attend Murray Wright. Thank goodness, my counselor was impressed by my effort, and he made a recommendation that I be allowed to attend the school.

His recommendation was accepted. I was in. Now I could be with my cousins again daily. Growing up, they have always been like my brothers and sisters. In fact, everyone we knew at first assumed I was their brother. I have a younger brother Ronald. He was eight years younger than me. Ronald had autism, so even though we loved each other, our relationship wasn’t the same as it might have been.

On the evening, I was walked out of the plant I went to the projects. I hung out with Howard and other friend we met since they had moved there. Howard and I established a tighter bond since the death of his brother two years earlier. Robert went over to the house of a friend of his friend whose name was Robert also.

My cousin Robert was on the phone talking to his girlfriend, Sofia. There was a gun on the kitchen table where they were all sitting. Robert and Howard were always together. This time, however, Robert left out, and by the time Howard came out behind him, Robert was already gone.

The guy picked up the gun and asked my cousin if he wanted to play Russian roulette. With that, he put the gun to Robert’s head and pulled the trigger. Pow! Gun wasn’t supposed to be loaded, at least that was what we were told.

We had never experienced such a tragedy in our family. Robert was such a nice, likable person but now dead at nineteen years old. He and I were very close, and I