The Seventh Messenger

by Carol Costa

  THE SEVENTH MESSENGER

  Carol Costa

  Anaphora Literary Press

  Anna Faktorovich: Director, Designer, Editor 104 Banff Dr., Apt. 101, Edinboro, PA 16412

  (814) 273-0004

  pennsylvaniajournal@gmail.com www.anaphoraliterary.wordpress.com

  Copyrights © 2011 by Carol Costa All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from Carol Costa. Writers are welcome to quote brief passages in their critical studies, as American copyrights law dictates.

  Published in 2011 by Anaphora Literary Press

  The Seventh Messenger Carol Costa—1st edition. ISBN-13: 978-1463561024 ISBN-10: 1463561024 Library of Congress Control Number:

  Inspired by the true story of Benjamin Franklin Purnell, Founder of The House of David

  Other Books by Carol Costa Ask Aunt Emma , Champagne Books

  Invisible Force, Champagne Books

  The Master Plan, Avalon Books

  A Deadly Hand, Avalon Books

  Love Steals the Scene, Avalon Books

  Labor of Love, Avalon Books

  When Nothing Else Was Right, Open Books Press Teach Yourself Accounting in 24 Hours, Penguin The Complete Idiot's Guide to Surviving Bankruptcy, Penguin Teach Yourself Bookkeeping in 24 Hours, Penguin Video Poker: Play Longer with Less Risk, ECW Press The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Starting and Running a Thrift Store, Penguin

  Happiness Awaits You! Open Books Press

  INTRODUCTION

  Tucked away on the outskirts of Benton Harbor, Michigan are the remnants of a forgotten kingdom. The Diamond House, a stone fortress named for the sparkling crystals imbedded in its walls, still stands as a monument to the king entombed inside of it.

  The grounds surrounding the Diamond House are well

  cared for, but many of the other buildings that housed the members of a world-famous religious colony, known as the House of David, are deserted.

  The miniature train tracks still surround an amusement park that attracted thousands of visitors each year with a stadium that was home to a team of bearded players who made baseball history. Today, the train whistle is silent. The baseball field is overgrown with weeds. Restaurants and souvenir stands are boarded up and the magnificent fountain and beer gardens are in shambles.

  Benjamin Franklin Purnell along with his wife, Mary, founded the House of David in Benton Harbor in 1903. Benjamin claimed to be the Seventh Messenger prophesied by the Book of Revelations and promised to lead his followers into a Millennium of peace and prosperity. He was accepted as the supreme ruler over all the colony"s spiritual and temporal matters.

  All who joined the House of David put their earthly funds and possessions into the commonwealth treasury and contributed their talents and services to the colony. King Benjamin and Queen Mary reigned in splendor and built a multi-million dollar empire.

  My family had a summer home in Benton Harbor, adjacent to the House of David colony and the amusement park. Members of the colony were close personal friends of our family. As a teenager, I lived with one of the members during the summer months and worked in a souvenir stand at the House of David Park.

  The history of the House of David and its members is a fascinating, often sensational tale, filled with torrid relationships, emotion, and drama. It is the story of people who persevered in the face of hardships and scandal clinging to their faith and living together in peace and harmony.

  Although this book is a work of fiction, it is based on true events, and many of the characters depicted in this book are real people.

  The House of David, the amusement park and the City of David organized by Mary Purnell continued to operate and prosper until the mid-seventies and even today, a handful of members remain. They tend the grounds around the Diamond House and wait for their leader to come back for them.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The drive to Benton Harbor, Michigan from Chicago had taken just under two hours. Naomi had not been back there since reaching adulthood, so her memories of the small town were fleeting and shadowy. Yet, as she drove down the quiet tree- lined streets and gazed out at the modest homes, a feeling of comfort and well-being seemed to soothe her jangled nerves.

  As the city sidewalks gave way to the open space of a rural highway, Naomi saw a billboard that advertised the House of David Park. Over the years, the park had attracted visitors from all over the world. The crowds flocked to the House of David from May through October. They rode the miniature train; drove small gasoline powered cars around a circular track, ate homemade ice cream, and danced in the beer gardens. If the House of David baseball team was at home even more people came to the park to attend a game. Naomi, however, was not interested in the baseball team or the park"s other attractions. She was there to explore the past and find answers to the questions that had haunted her for so many long difficult years.

  It was the last week in September. Already the air held a slight chill and that coupled with the fact that it was a weekday morning meant that the park would not be very crowded. Naomi was counting on the absence of visitors to allow her to talk to some of the members of the House of David who worked in the restaurants and souvenir stands.

  The park had been built in the early 1900"s and now more than fifty years later remained a primary source of income for the religious colony founded by Benjamin Franklin Purnell.

  Naomi parked her car in a lot adjacent to the train depot that served as the main entrance to the park. An ice cream shop, a ticket booth, an information counter, and a souvenir stand were located there. It hadn"t changed much since the last time Naomi had seen it.

  Instead of walking into the train depot, Naomi ventured across the road to stand in front of two white frame buildings joined on the second floor by a balcony enclosed with wooden railings. The grounds in front of the expansive buildings were separated by a wide cement sidewalk flanked on either side by gardens. Fall flowers with hues of yellow and orange were in bloom.

  Naomi stared at the second floor balcony as she saw herself at six years old standing on the landing looking across at the throngs of people milling around the train depot.

  Her mother"s voice, sharp and impatient, echoed in her mind. “Naomi, come away from there. No one wants to see your puny face peeking over that railing.”

  Naomi turned away from the building and the image from the past. She walked to the side of the road where a flat wooden replica of a tall, bearded man in a suit and hat stood. The man had long reddish brown hair flowing down to his shoulders from under his fancy hat. The man had his arm extended pointing across the road and holding a sign with a white background and black letters that spelled out the word, “Entrance.” Another sign set into the ground next to the wooden cut-out identified the man as Benjamin Franklin Purnell.

  Standing directly in front of the likeness of Purnell, Naomi touched her own reddish brown hair and nodded. “Hiya, pop,” she said softly.

  As the train whistle sounded, Naomi hurried across the road. The sleek locomotive chugged into the station emitting huge puffs of steam and squealing its brakes. The train tracks encircled the amusement park giving passengers a short scenic ride between this station and the one on the other side of the park that allowed them access to the main attractions.

  Naomi purchased a round trip ticket and waited while the returning passengers disembarked. Each of the passenger cars attached to the locomotive contained open-sided seats with a roof suspended on metal bars, allowing the rider unobstructed views of the lush vegetation and tall trees that kept the park isolated from the roads that led to and from it.

  Naomi sat back to enj
oy the ride to the other station. She remembered how much she had loved the train when she was a child. Although her mother had held an important position in the House of David enterprise, Naomi was not often allowed to visit the park or ride the train. Children of members were not given free access to the amusements the tourists enjoyed. They were mostly kept out of sight, in the living quarters of one of the big white buildings across the street or in the yards behind the houses. Children did chores, the difficulty and complexity of them based on age and physical ability. Responsibilities grew along with the child.

  “When I get big, I"m going to work in the park every day so I can ride the train,” Naomi told her mother on the few occasions she was allowed to accompany her to the park.

  “If you don"t learn to fold the towels properly, you"ll still be working in the laundry when you get big,” her mother would reply.

  The matter was never settled one way or the other. Her mother had taken Naomi to live in Chicago long before she learned how to fold the towels properly or became old enough to work in the park.

  The train bumped along the tracks, but Naomi didn"t think it was anything too special anymore. At the other station, she alighted from the train and took in her surroundings. Again, they didn"t seem much different than she remembered them. A large souvenir stand and a refreshment counter that sold cold drinks, chips, candy and ice cream served in waffle cones. Both the ice cream and the cones were made by the House of David members in one of the buildings behind the main houses across the street.

  Behind the station stood the House of David restaurant. No hamburgers or hot dogs to be obtained there. The colony members were strict vegetarians and the restaurant served the same type of food as the members ate in the communal dining rooms. A menu displayed in the window of the restaurant advertised such entrées as Mock Steak and Vegetarian Stew.

  The paved pathway wound around the restaurant and led to a set of steps that went down to the main area of the park.

  The car rides, the bowling alley, the beer gardens, an ice cream parlor and more souvenir stands were located in a valley surrounded by more trees and foliage.

  At the bottom of the steps, Naomi saw something that had not been there when she was a child. A beautiful fountain area had been built with stone steps and tiers of colorful garden areas full of flowers and green plants.

  The fountain was very attractive, but Naomi was not interested in looking closer. She quickly made her way towards one of the souvenir stands, where an elderly woman was behind the counter.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked pleasantly, when Naomi approached the glass case that held a variety of sculptured art pieces.

  “Your artwork is beautiful. I don"t think I"ve ever seen that type of stone before. What is it?”

  “It"s called hydra-stone, a special material used by our artists. All the work is done here by our own people.”

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “Most of my life.”

  “Did you know King Benjamin?” Naomi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He must have been a remarkable man.”

  “He was.” The woman now looked at Naomi with a hint of suspicion in her faded blue eyes.

  “I"d like to know more about King Benjamin.”

  The woman nodded. “I have books you can purchase, or if you"d prefer, there is free literature at the information booths.”

  “I"ve read all of that,” Naomi replied. “I want to know what he was really like, from someone like you, who knew him personally.”

  “I"m sorry, we do not discuss the private matters of our colony,” the woman answered quietly.

  “Did Benjamin purify your blood?”

  A flush crept across the woman"s cheeks and she backed away from the counter. “I don"t know what you are talking about.”

  “Yes you do,” Naomi persisted. “Were you a part of his Inner Circle?”

  Anger flashed in the woman"s eyes and she approached the counter again. “Your mind has obviously been poisoned by the blasphemy of the press. Please leave me alone, or I shall have you removed from the park.”

  Naomi nodded. “I"m sorry I upset you.”

  As Naomi walked away, a glint of recognition appeared in the old woman"s eyes. She hurried to the telephone in the back of the stand and dialed a number.

  A few minutes later, Naomi was back on the train. She had come on too strong, handled it all wrong. Being here at the House of David was bringing back too many memories, making her feel edgy and off-balance. It was bringing the old anger to the surface once more.

  She had wanted to see it again, but she realized now that this was not the place she would find the answers she sought. There was only one person who might be willing to provide Naomi with the information she needed to deal with the anger and bitterness. And that person no longer lived at the House of David. Like Naomi, she was no longer part of Benjamin"s kingdom.

  The person Naomi sought was down the road, less than a mile away from the House of David property. Naomi reclaimed her car and drove the short distance to a dirt road. The street sign said, Walnut Street and across from that was a red brick building bearing a small billboard with a large star. Adjacent to the star in plain black lettering were the words, “Israelite House of David, reorganized by Mary Purnell.”

  Naomi drove past Walnut Street and the red brick building and found a wider paved street. Cabins and buildings lined each side of it. A few tourists were walking around. Others were sitting on the benches placed in grassy areas on either side of the street. On the corner was a building that appeared to be a hotel and restaurant. Naomi parked her car in front of it.

  She was about to go inside the building and ask for information when a man with a long white beard and shoulderlength white hair approached from the other end of the street. He carried a megaphone and was making an announcement.

  “Come and witness Mary. She sees angels from the throne of God.”

  A few of the tourists followed the bearded announcer as he turned and walked back down the wide traffic-free street. Naomi fell in step with them.

  A square one story building was near the end of the street where it curved around into another dirt road. The sign over the door said, Assembly Hall, and the door to the hall was standing open. Another bearded gentleman, this one with a dark beard and a neat braid hanging down his back was standing at the door.

  Inside the assembly hall, there was a small stage with a back curtain of red velvet. The only thing on the stage was a red velvet chair with a high back and arms trimmed in gold.

  Folding chairs were set up in neat rows in front of the stage and Naomi took a seat with the rest of the spectators.

  After a few minutes, a number of women in plain dresses came into the hall with more bearded men. When everyone was seated, the door was closed and a young man walked onto the stage with what appeared to be a mandolin. The young man"s beard was red, like his hair that was braided and pinned to the top of his head.

  The musician settled himself on the floor to the left of the chair and began to strum the mandolin softly. Mary Purnell entered wearing a flowing white robe. Despite her advanced years, she moved effortlessly to the chair and lowered herself into it. Her long white hair was brushed back from her face and fastened with a ribbon at the nape of her neck.

  Mary wasted no time in summoning the angels. “I see them,” she declared in a strong voice. “Dazzling white wings and garments that shine like the sun. They are so beautiful. Oh, that I could touch them.” She paused for a second or two and then continued. “They speak to me, their voices like lovely strains of music. Oh, they are so beautiful. I am truly blessed by their presence.”

  At this point, Mary seemed to go into a trance, silently communicating with the angels that she alone could see. Two of the bearded men got up from their seats and passed collection plates among the visitors. Naomi dropped a dollar into one of the plates as did some of the other spectators.

  The bearded men sat
down again, and Mary snapped out of her trance and smiled at her audience. “The angels tell me that they will answer questions asked by the pure of heart.”

  One woman rose to her feet. “My sister died recently. Her name is Betty Flynn. Please ask the angels if she is with them.”

  Mary closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them and smiled again. “Your sister has arrived safely. She waits for you.”

  Naomi"s anger at the charade could no longer be contained. She jumped to her feet. “I have a question,” she said loudly. “Do you see your husband, King Benjamin, among those angels?”

  Mary looked at Naomi and shook her head slowly. “The insincerity of your heart has been heard above your voice. The angels have left me.”

  “Oh, really,” Naomi shouted. “I"m so sorry, but I want an answer to my question. Did you see Benjamin with the angels?

  Is he hanging around God"s throne with them or burning in hell for his sins?”

  A few people gasped, others shook their heads in disapproval, and a few laughed softly. All eyes were on Naomi as she stood there defiantly staring at Mary. Mary rose from her chair and two of her bearded followers appeared on either side of Naomi, ready to eject her from the hall.

  Mary raised a hand and spoke again. “The angels told me of your coming. We will speak privately.”

  Mary walked off the stage with the young mandolin player scurrying after her. The bearded men ushered everyone but Naomi outside. Then, instead of leading her to the outside door, one of the bearded men took Naomi"s arm and led her to an inside door that accessed a narrow hallway that in turn led to a back exit. Without a word, the man escorted Naomi down a narrow pathway to the back of the hotel. Mary was nowhere in sight, but Naomi assumed her bearded companion was taking her to meet with Mary privately.

  Naomi was sorry she had acted so badly. Her quick temper and sharp tongue were always getting her into trouble. She knew she had been wrong to cause a scene at the hall, but that angel routine was too much to tolerate. Naomi was frustrated and tired of all the deceptions and lies. It was time to hear the truth, and she was not leaving here until she did.