Ronda Rich

Syndicated Columnist

In 1949, a young North Carolina preacher decided to take his ministry to the streets of Los Angeles where he and his staff pitched a tent and waited for the people to come.

A few did. Billy Graham had prayed that the Lord would provide a larger congregation. They were scheduled to be there for only a week but, by the looks of things, the revival might close quickly.

Los Angeles’ number one disc jockey was Stuart Hamblen. Despite his success, he couldn’t find contentment and regularly sought relief in large quantities of alcohol. Because his father was a Methodist minister in his home state of Texas, he was willing to try a visit to Graham’s revival. That night, he experienced a Christian conversion that would stick to his soul and ripple across countless lives.

The next morning, on the radio, Hamblen told his listeners about the revival and his experience. That night, crowds lined up for blocks to get in to hear the Southern preacher. The revival was so popular that it ran for six weeks and another man who was saved was Louis Zamperini, a former POW in the South Pacific, who had been brutally beaten repeatedly and who, too, sought comfort in alcohol. His story later become a bestselling book and hit movie named “Unbroken.” His heart was softened to the extent that he traveled to Japan, found his abuser, and gave him complete forgiveness.

Rev. Graham would long credit Hamblen for the crowds that filled the tent.

From Hamblen’s experience would come two of the most wellknown songs in popular history. Through conversation with his best friend and hunting buddy, actor John Wayne, both songs would be birthed.

Hamblen, who never touched a drop of liquor again, lost his radio show when he refused to voice beer commercials. Shortly thereafter, Hamblen was at Wayne’s house when, hospitably, The Duke offered him a drink. He refused, explaining that he had been delivered from the demon drink and said, “It is no secret what God can do.”

Wayne responded, “You should write a song with that title.” Hamblen did and it became a hit song and gospel music standard.

Later, a hunting trip with John Wayne would inspire one of my favorite songs. They were climbing high into the North California mountains where they came upon a small shack. On the porch, a dog lay, howling mournfully. The two men knocked on the door and found that the dog’s master, an old man, had passed away naturally, sitting in his chair by the fireplace.

Hamblen returned home and wrote “This Ole House.” It’s the story of a person who knows that death is coming so he doesn’t have time to fix the shingles or the squeaky floor. It’s worth a listen and a look at the full lyrics. Lines include, “My old hound dog lies a-sleeping/he don’t know I’m gonna leave/ else he’d howl and moan and grieve/I ain’t gonna need this house no longer/I’m getting ready to meet the saints.”

Rosemary Clooney made it an international number one hit in 1954. Rosemary, George Clooney’s aunt, is the mother of one Tink’s friends, Monsita.

My favorite version is sung by the Statlers and not just because Don Reid, who sings lead on it, is one of our best friends. He sings it fast-pace with such uplifting hope.

When I told Don that his version (it has been recorded hundreds of times) is my beloved, he humbly thanked me then asked, “Did you ever hear George Younce of The Cathedrals sing it? That’s hard to beat.”

Sometimes, during book signings, a woman will say quietly, when I ask what she does, “I’m just a wife and mother.”

Often, I will squeeze her hand. Always, I will say, “So was Billy Graham’s mother.”

Look at a bit of the good that Mrs. Graham brought forth.

Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of the new novel “ST. SIMONS ISLAND: A Stella Bankwell Mystery.”