Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, January 22, 1993 TAG: 9301220260
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: LON WAGNER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: FLOYD LENGTH: Long
IN-LAWS: MINISTER'S DESIRES OF THE BODY, NOT THE SOUL
Elwood Gallimore's parishioners think he is the most revolutionary minister to preach in these parts in some time, but some of his in-laws think he's twisting God's word to justify his appetite for women.Relatives of Janice Gallimore, the Martinsville-area minister's wife of 26 years, are certain they know the truth behind Gallimore's preaching.
"If he were just preaching the word, it wouldn't justify his living," said Cabble Turman, Janice Gallimore's father. "Satisfying the flesh is what it is."
Last month, Gallimore told his congregation he had taken a second wife. He said he and Sabrina Simpkins, a junior at Floyd County High School who attends his church, were married "in the eyes of God."
A few days later, he told Janice, whom he married when he was 18 and she was 16.
He said the news "hit her in the face pretty much," but she came to like the arrangement.
Not true, say Janice Gallimore's parents and one of her sisters.
"Look how she's got her head hung down," her father said Thursday, looking at a picture of his daughter in the newspaper. "I don't believe it. It's forced on her."
Cabble and Betty Turman say they have been cut off from their daughter. Their phone calls to Gallimore's answering machine go unreturned. The two times they've seen Janice in the past five weeks have been wrenching.
The first time was Dec. 15, when she was admitted to Pulaski Community Hospital for two days for "nerves." That was about the time Elwood Gallimore told her he had informally married Sabrina Simpkins.
The second time was Dec. 26, when Janice Gallimore's parents and two sisters decided to take some action. They went to Gallimore's Saturday night service at the Evangelistic Tabernacle.
After the service, they took Janice across the street to talk to her. Joyce Whitebread, Janice's sister, who came up from Alabama to try to straighten things out, recalled Thursday that Elwood Gallimore quickly halted the family's conversation.
"He took her hands away from me, and pulled her away," Whitebread said. "He took her and pushed her in the van and pointed his finger in her face."
The congregation has been instructed not to talk to Janice Gallimore's family, Whitebread said, because "we do not believe the way they do."
Gallimore's critics say his control over Janice is comparable to his control over the entire congregation at the small Henry County church.
Jack and Betty Saul, Sabrina Simpkins' aunt and uncle, compare Gallimore to the Rev. Jim Jones, who led his congregation to the South American country of Guyana and persuaded them to commit mass suicide.
"I think the boy's got 'em snowed," Jack Saul said. His wife put it another way.
"If he would say, `Kill yourself, this is your persecution to get to heaven,' that's what they would do," Betty Saul said.
Gallimore's parishioners say they are not a cult. But to anybody who asks, they'll admit they are following as closely behind Gallimore as they can.
"If you got a man of God, and he's following Christ, and you follow him, you'll get in heaven," Dale Fields, a church member, said this week while waiting for the service to start.
Another man would not identify himself because he said his wife didn't want him going to Gallimore's services. He compared the felony seduction charge placed Tuesday against Gallimore - and threats the church has received since Gallimore's beliefs have been made public - to the crucifixion of Christ.
"The enemys of this message would certainly like to get rid of the pastor," he said. "I'll put it this way: The Lord is on a higher level and [Gallimore] is following him."
Gallimore claims to follow the preachings of Indiana minister William Marrion Branham, who died in 1965. But Branham's successors, including his sons, have made it clear that Branham preached against polygamy.
Gallimore and his followers say Branham's sons are the ones who have it wrong.
Gallimore is fed up with being blinded by television lights and camera flashes. He doesn't return phone calls anymore, or give interviews, but he mocks his critics from the pulpit.
It's Tuesday night, 10 minutes before the service is to begin. The five-piece band strikes up a rollicking gospel tune and warms up the parishioners for the sermon.
The 80 people in attendance start clapping their hands, waving their arms above their heads and jumping up and down.
A woman runs out in the aisle and races around the church several times. Other women follow. When the women are finished the men do the same thing.
The floor is literally shaking. Gallimore steps out of a room to the left of the band and starts beating a tambourine. When the music stops, Gallimore - wearing jeans and a short-sleeve print shirt - grabs the microphone, holds it so close his lips are touching it, and starts shouting.
Clearly, Gallimore is reveling in the attention he has received since Jan. 12, when it was first reported that authorities were investigating him.
He jokes about a letter he has received from Billy Paul Branham - William Marrion Branham's son - instructing him about his father's thoughts toward polygamy. "Airmail," he says. "Can't get it to me fast enough."
He also tells the crowd he's not the least bit worried about his problems with the law. He won't hire a lawyer, he says, because he doesn't need one.
And when he was arrested, he says, he promised the magistrate to show up for his February trial - unless the second coming of Christ occurs before the trial date.
"If I make it to court, I'll preach in the courtroom," he says. "If not, I'll be eating supper with the Lord. It's not a Jim Jones thing; it's a word-of-God thing."
Gallimore tells his parishioners the chances are good the second coming will happen this year.
Something big happens every 2,000 years. It was 2,000 years from Adam and Eve to the Great Flood and Noah's ark. It was 2,000 years from Noah to Christ. And since the Roman calendar is off by seven years, that means 1993 is 2,000 years after Christ's birth, he says.
He laughs at the thought that the president might be watching him on "Hard Copy," a television program that shot a feature on the church last weekend.
But the media spotlight must be on the Evangelistic Tabernacle for a reason, he says. That's because the resurrection is about to happen, and the only ones who will be saved are Gallimore's followers.
The whole congregation one day will vanish in the Rapture, and no one will miss them, Gallimore says.
"They done think I'm crazy," he says. "Now didn't they think John the Baptist was crazy? Didn't they think Elijah was crazy?
"All of us sitting here in Bassett Forks, in this little place, done got the attention of the whole world, and it must be for a reason."
Hours before Tuesday's sermon, Jack Saul, Sabrina Simpkins' uncle, had predicted the spin Gallimore would put on the attention his trouble with the law has attracted.
"He's going to walk up to the pulpit and say, `People around the world have finally gotten our message.' "