My Autobiography

Back when I had just become a teenager my dad gave me his old family Victrola complete with some old records from his family in Virginia. Some of these old records were gospel songs of famous quartets like 'The Carter family', 'The Chuck Wagon Gang' and 'The Smokey Mountain Boys'. Of course that type of music was different from what we heard over the radio back then and even now.

I grew up in a typical middleclass neighborhood on Mulberry Street in Daytona Beach, Florida. Mulberry Street is on the mainland side of town, east of US 1, west of Beach Street and the part we lived on was south of Madison Ave.

My family never went to church so neither did I. Therefore I grew up American pagan. But one day I stopped by a church in our neighborhood. These church people were singing old fashioned gospel songs just like I heard from that old Victrola my dad gave me. This church was of a holiness denomination called the First Church of the Nazarene. They had a song leader who was a very big man. He was both very tall and very heavy; he must have weighed over 400lbs, and he had a booming voice.

Sometimes I would stop by that church when they were singing. The song leader, that big man, would tell them the page number of the song and hum the key so that the congregation could start to sing. But once he started singing too, no one could hear anyone else but him. His voice carried up and down the street and even across the street. His singing somehow made me shake; I liked the feeling even though I did not fully understand it back then. Folks in the neighborhood said that he was an anointed singer set apart by God with the gift of praise. Others said that he was the only truly sanctified man that they had ever seen. In any case this was the first time I ever felt God. No one had ever told me that it was even possible to feel God. So I must have had that old 'hard shell, hog and hominy' Baptist belief drilled into me; that any religious experience or relationship with God was based on rules, regulations and laws of scripture or faith that one just accepted as true instead of any feelings at all.

Around the same time a TV Program came on the air each week called: 'The Happy Goodman's'. They sang the same old gospel tunes that that church sang. So I thought that that same feeling like exhilaration with shaking might happen again as the wife of the evangelist, Vestal Goodman also sang with an anointed voice. By this time I had learned by experience that the anointing on others somehow made me shake. One day they described how this anointing had come on Vestal.

Vestal Goodman and her husband Howard were holding revivals in a small town in Louisiana. A bad hurricane had come through, torn the tent and things up and rained all over the electrical equipment so that they had no working microphone. Vestal got up to sing anyway by faith with her soft soprano voice. Just then the Holy Spirit came upon her and her voice boomed throughout that tattered tent, everyone heard her. Her shocked family was astonished and asked what had happened. An old woman replied that the Spirit of God had just anointed her with power to do what God wanted done.

Since that day the fame of this woman and her voice has gone throughout the land and even onto television, which was just black and white back in those days. Although I was still not yet a born again Christian, nevertheless I watched that show religiously every week because it made me feel good and I got to shake just like a 'holy roller' even though I was just an unsaved street kid.

About that same time, a Baptist evangelist who drove a new Cadillac car put up a big tent to hold revival in Holly Hill, Florida, the town next door. I remember that his tent was put up in a swampy area which is now filled in and has luxury homes built there. I guess those people living in those luxury homes would be horrified to know that their expensive homes were built on filled in swamp.

These Baptist people sang those same gospel tunes, but without any feeling in them. Nevertheless I went forward to get saved anyway since I wanted to get closer to God in order to shake. But since there was no feeling in that experience and I never shook there, it did not seem to last.

It lasted a little while though and I even got adopted by a well to do childless couple named O'Brien who took me to every Sunday service at White Chapel Church of God where I was baptized in water in 1961. But since there was no feeling there in time I fell away into naughtiness, common to the street life I grew up in. Gradually my bad behavior sank into open sin. In time I was convicted of forgery and sent away to serve a couple of years in the Florida State Prison. But then my second chance to experience God and shake 'big-time' began right in that prison.

This was really weird but before I share it, let me describe my prison experience first. At first I was somewhat apprehensive because I was a good looking former surfer with blonde hair. Back then I was already a high school graduate with some college and could also type, therefore the classification supervisor of the Florida prison system had me become his new clerk. This was a trustee position complete with a white uniform and a special pass to go anywhere in the prison without having to be guarded.

My prison job involved my assembling of all important papers on each new inmate for the classification committee. Only free people, employees of the State of Florida get to do that same kind of work now. But back in those days I got to do it. These papers I had to acquire and assemble included official court commitment papers with any pre-sentence investigation reports or probation and parole papers, psychological reports made by the prison psychologist including IQ tests, social reports of the classification officer, chaplain's report and custody recommendation of the prison guards and whatever else was pertinent to that particular case including ID pictures and all demographic data.

Working with these papers required personal trust. I was not allowed to disclose whatever I saw. I remember one strange case that appalled me back then and still troubles me some as I wonder how a person created in the image of God could possibly do such an evil act. I'm talking about a young Black man who told everyone that he got twenty years for robbery when the court commitment papers showed he had sexually assaulted an infant by sticking his finger into her. If I had ventured to set the record straight, that guy's life would have been forfeit and I did not want his blood on my hands so I kept my mouth shut.

Otherwise this prison job was just like any other nine to five office job. Only we also had to work sometimes on weekends like Saturday or Sunday because the classification committee which met every week had to have their papers ready for them so they could decide which rehabilitation program to put each new inmate in, which correctional center to send them to and what custody was most appropriate for their rehabilitation.

A few months after I arrived it was already time for Easter. Since I had been a surfer on the outside, I was used to getting up early. So I went to Easter Sunrise Service which was one of my trusty privileges. Since this was the only day of the year when we could get out of our cells early in the morning many trustees came from all over the prison not only for the Easter service but also to remember what early mornings with sunrise was like.

Once we filled up the bleachers set up in the prison yard the Chaplain prayed. Down in front was a visiting prison chain gang dressed in prison blues. I thought that they had come to worship with us too. Instead one of their guards set down his rifle and introduced one of them to sing for us. This singer was a young Black man who started to sing the old Negro Spiritual about 'Sometimes It Causes Me to Tremble'. At once I recognized that this man had a professional voice, since I had studied voice in college and knew that his voice had a three octave range. In other words, he could hit any note in music both low notes and high ones too. So I wondered why a guy with such a fabulous voice, better than anyone I had ever heard was in prison with the rest of us, just cutting grass on the side of some road every day. Then my mind moved from being centered on his voice to the words of the song he sang for us. As he finished singing the first verse he went on to sing the chorus about 'Sometimes It Causes Me to Tremble' and I started to shake uncontrollably again just as I had done before as a kid.

This time my shaking was 'big time'. As it would not stop. One of my friends gave me my prison jacket but I still shook since I really wasn't cold. Usually I had learned by experience that my shaking accompanied someone's anointing and when their anointing was over, my shaking ended too. But this time I shook after that Black man finished singing and for the rest of that Easter Sunrise service. I shook on the way back to our cells too. Once we arrived I still shook. I even shook for count time that morning. When I went to eat breakfast I still shook. It's hard to eat when you're shaking but somehow I managed to eat my oatmeal.

Afterward, since it was a holiday and I did not have to work, I returned to my housing area and laid down to take a nap. But I could not go to sleep as I still shook. By this time my shaking had gone from just my usual feeling good about my shaking to concern and even alarm for my well being now.

Then it came lunch time. We all lined up to go to lunch. I still shook but I was determined to eat this good holiday meal anyway. The lunchroom people had prepared Black Angus steaks from the prison farm for us. These steaks were big, juicy and filled the whole plate. So big that our vegetables had to be put on top of our steaks. Actually all this food was both very fresh and very good back in those days. Eating good was seen to be a basic human right even for prison inmates back then. So the steaks were real, without soy fillers. The State of Florida had a huge Division of Corrections farm and ranch in Belle Glade, Florida from whence our food came.

As we sat down to eat people avoided sitting by me as if I were contaminated with some sickness that they were afraid to catch, since I still shook but I managed to eat my steak anyway.

After eating our group of inmates returned to our dorm to watch TV sports. But I laid down to take an afternoon nap. Since I was still shaking I could not go to sleep. So after a few hours of self imposed rest I got up to get ready for supper.

At supper I sat at a corner table by myself since I was still shaking. As the other guys came in they sat together at the main tables in the center. I don't remember what we ate for that meal but I'm sure it must have been good. After we ate we returned to the dorm where most of us watched the TV news. I saw the TV news too then some wrestling program.

Suddenly count time crept up on us. We all stood by our beds as the prison guard would call out our last names and we responded with our prison number. When he got to me, He called my last name; Starnes and I responded; 020,563. You never forget your prison number. Then before moving on to the next bed, he asked me if I was still shaking. I said; 'Yes Sir'. You can't hide your personal problems from the guards since it's their job to stay fully informed about those they're guarding. Then he took out a pad of colored papers and wrote me out a sick pass and told me; 'If you're still shaking in the morning be sure you make sick call. There's a bad flu going around that's killing people and we don't want you to cheat the State of Florida out of its time'. I said; 'Yes Sir' then he moved on.

I thought later that his statement to me was rather cold. But I had learned by this time to always treat prison guards with respect and common courtesy.

After count time was over we all got into our beds. Then the guard turned off our light. I tried to go to sleep but my shaking wouldn't quit. Eventually my shaking seemed to subside enough for me to go to sleep. So I slept well that night. The next morning as I woke up I noticed that my shaking was gone. Of course this all was a mystery to me back then. So I just put it out of my mind and went on doing whatever I had to face that day.

I did wonder a few times about the gospel singer at that Easter Sunrise Service if I'd ever hear his voice again. It's now been almost 50 years and I wonder whatever happened to that guy.

Once I had to go over to the photographer to retrieve some ID pictures for the Classification Committee. While there I saw the prison photographer taking ID photos of a death row inmate. Because this guy was about my same age back then and I saw on his court commitment papers under the word: sentence the word: DEATH in capital letters. So I could not look at the guy as a cold feeling would come over me. Just then the devil seemed to say that this is what happened to that singer. But I knew better as death row inmates stay on death row under maximum security, they do not work on chain gangs nor go out to sing.

My life was rather uneventful and went on normally from that day. A few months later I received an official letter from the Florida Probation and Parole Commission in Tallahassee, Florida. They told me what they were going to do and what would be happening to me. They also ordered my classification boss to have me transferred to minimum security at the Avon Park Correctional Institution in Avon Park, Florida in preparation for my release.

They said that my family had moved to California and had even found me a job out there. So they were going to give me an interstate parole, which was rare back in those days. First they would send me to Avon Park Correctional Institution for a few months of minimum custody. Then I would be released on parole to California. I was to be given bus fair to Tampa, Florida. Then fly nonstop to LA. There I would meet my folks and go to work that week. The next week I was to report to my California parole officer who would meet me at home so he could check out my living arrangements, meet my folks and interview me there in person.

When I left the Florida state prison and arrived at Avon Park Correctional Institution the first thing I noticed was the quality of the food. It seemed to me that good food was used to pacify those hoodlums, thugs and lowlifes at the main prison but not wasted on the older career criminals and white collar criminals of Avon Park Correctional Institution.

I thought that my job skills at the main prison would ease me into some type of office job. But in prison you don't get to choose what you want. You do what they need done. Back then they needed another tailor to work with the sewing machine. Of course I knew nothing about sewing but I learned quickly.

This correctional institution was much different from what I had become used to. There were less Black inmates there and much older inmates. This correctional institution also included the prison hospital, so there were some amputees and some in wheelchairs too.

Usually I keep to myself but there a middle aged Jewish inmate from South Florida became my friend. He was a very sarcastic New York Jew and conman with an unusual ability to read people like books. One day I showed him my letter from the Parole Board. After he read it, he unexpectedly broke down and told me that these people were giving me a second chance and I should feel very blessed to be given a brand new life.

After serving a few months there it was time for my release, everything happened just as the parole board had authorized. First I was dismissed from my prison job. Then sent back to my dorm to put my few personal things and papers into a plastic bag. There ordered to strip my bed and take my sheets and blanket to the laundry room. After I turned in my bedding there I was ordered to take off my prison clothes. I was then given street clothes including a new suit complete with black shoes.

After I changed into the new street clothes and returned my old prison clothes I boarded their prison bus bond for the local Greyhound bus station. There I gave them my ticket to Tampa, Florida. Once I arrived in Tampa I went to their airport there and gave them my direct non-stop ticket for flight to LA. (Even though I was an ex-offender on parole there was no TSA in those days with all their bureaucratic searching of you and your baggage to prevent terrorism. See how much freedom we have lost.) After I boarded the plane I strapped myself in. The plane trip only took a few hours and since we crossed several time zones it was still morning when I arrived in LA.

After the plane landed I headed for the noisy terminal to meet my folks. When I stepped into that big terminal in LA, California it was like a whole new world. I had landed right into The Jesus Movement Revival complete with deliverances, healings and other Pentecostal manifestations of God's grace. Of course, I was very surprised to see with my own eyes the book of Acts coming back to life right in a public place, not a church. All sorts of ministry and other things were happening there. People were praying, crying, hollering, shouting, talking and even singing. Deliverances were happening and hands were being laid on some with miracle manifestations. Anyway there was just pandemonium there. My folks saw me and my mother got me out of there with my bag of stuff. But before we left I saw one of those Jesus people by the door handing out cards to their church and I grabbed one and stuck it in with my other personal papers and stuff.