Document text
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Forms to be,kills4 out for Eqch IntervieW
FORM A
CircuMstanties pf Interview
STATE New York
NAME OF iwORICER Vivian Morris
AmmEss 225 W. 130th St. New York City
DATE
Nov. 23, 1938
malincT GOD WAS HAPPY --MOTHER HORN
FOLKLORE
NEW YORK
1. Date and time o!! interview Sunday Nov. 20th (9 P. M. to 12,00)
2.. Place of interview Pentecostal Church 129th S. Lenox Ave.
3. Name and address of infOrmant
None
4.. Name and address of person, if any, who pia you in
touch with inforMant.
5. Name and address orperison, if any, accompanying you
6. Deseriptiom of'room, hems., surroundings, etc. The church is one flight
up over a hardware store with seating capacity of 800 people.
As you enter the door you ant greeted by a portly Negro woman
garbed in white who pokes out a collection plate to lift the
silver offering.
To the extreme right are rows of tenches uninterrupted rows of
chairs range from the back to within three yards of the pulpit,
which faces the front seats and rostrum with about eight chairs
on each side, they were occupied by the angels.
In a little cranny, which jutted from the left was about six rows
of seats enought to seat thirty six people.
To the left of, and above the pulpit were eight crutches, purported
to have been left by Norther Horn's followers who had walked away healed
(Use as maw additionel Sheets' •as-''nettesitiry', for any of the fOris.2. Pactl.the house INUI
be-mring the proper heading and the tuibir to which the material refers.) filled to cap-
acity and many stood in the ailea in
the door.
FORM C
Text of Interview (Unedited)
STATE New York
NE OF imun. Vivian Morris
ADDRESS
225 W. 130th St.
DATE Nov. 23, 1938
SUBJECT GOD WAS HAPPY MOTHER HORN
FOLKLORE
NE,Y YORK.
Mother Horn stretched forth her firm brown hands in a
silent command for quiet; and a hushed awe struck the group that
comprised the diciples of the Pentecostal Church, located on Lenox
Avenue at 129th street; in the heart of Harlem.
The eight -hundred eyes of the congregation were glued to
that strong featured, commanding Negro woman who was enrobed in white
from head to foot. A shimmering silk gown differentiated Mother Horn,
(who was affectionately dubbed by some of her followers as God's right
arm) from her "angels" who were dressed entirely in white cotton
raiments. The angels who were seated in the pulpit and in front
rows of the church formed a white phalanx of avid worshippers. They
sucked in their breath with spellbound ecstasy as the drops of wisdom
began to flow indirectly from the holy lips of God.
"God is unhappy", she slowly intoned with a slight, deliberate
pause between words.
Oh. Mother Holn whut we done done? agonized a big frog eyed
black angel, as she slowly clasped and unclasped her ham -like hands
that had become so from years of toil and back breaking labor in an
Alabama cottonfield. Her body was broken, but her spirit lived.
A low wail swelled from the entire group of angels and they
slowly waved their arms warding off sin.
Please dear Angels "Taint whut yo'll done done. Hitts de
worl data displeasin Him—dese debbil infested fo'ke". She slowly
stretched forth her arms her magnetic fingers swayed the wills of
her disciples. They followed her every move.
"Wicked, Wicked, people chanted" the angels swaying from side
to side, then rocking to and fro in hypnotic unison.
Then Mother Horn became a transformed dynamo of action. Her
eyes flashed her tensed body exuded seething, swirling religious
ferver. God's right arm stromed the pulpit transmitting her fiery
words unto the all absorbing person of her disciples and all who
were in ear shot of them.
For the next three hours Mother Horn was throttling the
problem at hand, wiping out sin by rubbing and preaching with words
and action.
God must be appeased pascified and made happy.
"God is in me" flamed Mother Horn. She stamped her foot
to the off beat of the hand clapping tempo, kept by the members "Dese
sins mus go."
With an imperc&ptible motion of her hand Mother Horn signaled
the drummer, pianoplayer and tambrourine beater to swing out, slowly,
softly ever increasing increscendo and t ime.
"Mus Go," screeched the disciples. They waved their arms
jerked their heads, twisted squirmed.
"Got to git fish" screamed Mother Horn, bucking her head nad
rolling her eyes ceiling ward.
"PiahI Fiahl FiahI Burn out de sin" Chanted the disciples.
Face was distorted with paroxysm after paroxysm of fevor caused by her
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intense interest at the proceedings.
A lean woman, clad in a close fitting red dress suddenly
jumped up trembling, swaying then she thrust out her stiffened arms.
She was black. This was a victory dance. They must please the Gods.
She swayed from side to side in sinuous rhythm to the hand
clapping and maddening thumps of the drum. Wild primitive jungle
music was leaping from the piano, from the tambourine. God, Oh, Laud
God a mighty mus be pleased.
The music became faster, faster, faster. She gave a frenzied
unabonded exhibition of trucking, Susi Q, Shag, but there was not
one vestige of sacrilege.
Have Mercy Laud. Have Mercy Laud, Mercy, Mercy,
The disciples were rolling, reeling, stamping. The lady in
red was running around the church mumbling a weird chants. She was
joined by a woman in black another, another --the whole church joined
in.
Everybody was rolling, crawling, running babbling --old women
young girls. The angels had their hands full trying to control the
other disciples.
The lady in red was reaching a climax. Se stopped and was
instantly surrounded by five angels waving away and quieting sin with
short Sh, Sh, Sh, Mother Horn Sh, Sh,
"Mother Horn" she groned as she stiffened then collapsed into
the waiting arms of the angels who quickly dragged her to a corner
and covered her with a filthy blanket. They left her lying in a
state of coma from whence she would awake clean and pure and a
disciple of Mothern Horn.
The lady in black fainted. Here and there a holy roller
twitched in religious ecatasy, then was silent.
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The angels worked like fury, Blankets, Blankets, Coasts
Sister, Blanket, they were dropping like hail.
At the signal from God's right arm the three musicians slowed
their tune decreased their crescendo, then dwindled away.
The disciples slumped limply in their seats, the floor was
littered with dishelved inert froms dotted here and there with the
sweat stained garment of a holy ghost ridden angel.
Here and there a tired angel could be seen still rubbing a
convert --her back, her breast, rubbing out sin.
Happy sighs and short yelping relief pierced the church,
punctured by a few Mother Horn, added by the persons who were gradually
coming out of their stupor.
Mother Horn, everforceful, beamed with a calm triumph as three
angels, one gently wiping perspiration from her face, another adjusted
her raiment and the third holding a glass of water, attended her.
Having completed their task, they were calmly waved to their
seats with heavenly words.
Mother Horn raised her hand for silence. She said solemnly,
"We will not witness de fo mal ceptin into God's Kingdom of de new
disciples.
"Amen"
"Ah will Inoint dey hands wid de holy watah, Codin to de Bible"
"Amen"
She poured water from a glass end the new saved sisters "half
dragged by the hefty angels were passed under the holy hand, and with
many holy gestures and an unintelligible prayer they passed into the
kingdom of the saved. As the last sister passed under her hand, Mother
Horn, "Gods right Arm" raised both hands. palms facing the audience
and said.
"God was Happy"