Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, July 24, 1994 TAG: 9407250070
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By DIANE STRUZZI STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Roanoke millionaire L. Glenn Naff was going through a bitter divorce when he sought the friendship of a young minister and his wife in 1989.
Andrew and Wanda Kay Robinson made a place for him, first in their fledgling Christian congregation, then in their modest home.
Naff returned the favors, freely giving money and gifts. As one member of the congregation said, "he carried the needs" of the church, the Tabernacle of Love. For the Robinsons, he helped buy a new Bedford County home, flew them around the country in his private plane and gave them luxury cars to drive.
The friendship flourished - until an explosive confrontation in church last Easter Sunday.
Before the congregation, Robinson accused Naff of sexually molesting his three teen-age nieces, then banished him from the church.
Nineteen days later, state police charged Naff, 59, with two counts of sodomy and one count of sexual abuse involving the girls. A preliminary hearing is scheduled Tuesday in Bedford County Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court.
The rift between Naff and the Robinsons also has spilled over into civil court. In May, Naff sued Robinson in Bedford County Circuit Court, alleging that the minister had reneged on a $172,660 loan agreement. Naff claimed the money had been used to pay for a five-bedroom luxury home where the three friends once lived and where the Robinsons still reside.
Neither the Robinsons nor Naff would return telephone calls to be interviewed for this article.
Naff's civil attorney, R. Louis Harrison Jr., contends that the criminal allegations arose because his client had called in the loan.
Robinson views things differently. In a countersuit, he contends that Naff in fact owed Robinson money for living in the minister's home without contributing toward household expenses.
Church members and others who know Naff and the Robinsons openly questioned the living arrangements and the motivations of the friendship.
"What struck us as strange was that a man of [Naff's] position and power would give the things he did, and why [the Robinsons] would not view this with suspicions," said a member of the church, who asked not to be named. "A millionaire walks into their life and provides everything ... It was obvious that after a year or a year and a half that [Naff] wasn't doing the leaning, they were."
|n n| On the surface, Naff's story could be pulled straight from a Frank Capra movie: The local boy who made good on smarts and perseverance, the family man who has said religion, his wife and their three sons were the most important parts of his life.
"I don't have anything that is not for sale, except my family," Naff said in a 1985 interview with this newspaper.
Naff honed his business skills as a young man when he hawked vacuum cleaners and later cars, opening an auto sales shop with his brother. The family business still operates on Melrose Avenue.
But selling was not enough for Naff. In the early 1950s, he decided to dabble in the stock market after he heard people talking about the trade.
Thirty years later, Naff was a self-made millionaire, winning big after he invested in the former Martin Processing, a Martinsville film manufacturer.
The New York Times described Naff's stock purchases of the company as "one of the most bizarre takeover stories to surface on Wall Street in a lot of years."
As his holdings in Martin Processing grew, so did his profits and his reputation. But he shied away from publicity and downplayed his accomplishments.
Even in success, he had brushes with legal problems.
In 1986, after his investments reportedly reached about $7 million, the Securities and Exchange Commission filed an injunction against Naff, claiming that he improperly reported his purchases of the Martin Processing stock. At the time, Naff said he had not followed the exact procedures the commission suggested.
Naff survived the wrangle with the SEC, a testament to his shrewd business techniques and his ability to gain the confidence of others easily, friends say.
"Glenn was a very free-hearted person with a lot of charisma, who could sell snowballs to the Eskimos," said the Rev. David Huff, former pastor of Grace Baptist Temple in Northwest Roanoke. "He was a natural salesman, who was also generous with his resources to people in need."
Like the Tabernacle of Love in Bedford, the Grace Baptist Temple benefited from Naff's gift-giving. Naff donated about $160,000 toward the construction of a new church building, Huff said. He would take churchgoers on rides in his private airplane or help them get cars through his connections in the auto business.
But the gifts were a way for Naff to control others, say those who knew him. Behind the public benevolence, there was the steely resolve of a corporate gamesman. Even in his private life, he did not like to lose.
Shirley Naff learned that in 1989 when she filed for divorce, saying that her husband had been physically and emotionally abusive.
Glenn Naff took the divorce fight into their church. He asked the congregation of Grace Baptist Temple to admonish Shirley Naff. When the parishioners would not, he left to attend the Robinsons' ministry, Huff said.
Naff once said he would rather give away what he owned and go to jail than give it to his wife. To that end, he attempted to divert stock funds to his sister and brother-in-law, leading the court to freeze his stock withdrawals and cash, according to records in the divorce case.
Shirley Naff claimed in her divorce filing that her husband had threatened her safety. The court ordered him to stay away from her and their home.
Naff admitted in court papers to slapping his wife once in their relationship, but he denied ever threatening her with physical harm.
"[Naff] is a God-fearing Christian who believes that men and women once married should make every attempt to remain together as a Christian family," according to divorce papers he filed.
|n n| Wanda Kay Robinson's Christian singing was one of the first things that attracted Naff to her and her husband's storefront ministry in Blue Ridge. A half-hour local cable program, "A Touch of Love with Wanda Kay," featured her chatting about religion between songs and occasionally asking for money for their church.
The young couple had moved to the Roanoke area from Southwest Virginia. Andrew, whose given name is William, was a commanding preacher who doted on his wife. Wanda Kay, a strong-willed perfectionist, worked on her singing career, ultimately making several cassette tapes of Christian music.
Naff left his family's Roanoke County home to live at the Airport Marriott after his wife filed for divorce. He and the Robinsons soon became constant companions.
To outside observers, the friendship began simply. Naff was a man who needed a place to stay, and the Robinsons invited him into their home.
Eventually, though, money seemed to be the element that fueled the relationship.
"Up until Mr. Naff's arrival, the church was struggling at best," said a member. "Then any money or need was supplied for. I think that most was due to Mr. Naff."
Naff bestowed many gifts on the Robinsons, ultimately helping them buy a three-story home, complete with a bedroom spa, on Mineral Springs Drive in Bedford County, friends say. The couple drove expensive cars - including a Mercedes, Jaguar and BMW - that Naff told friends he had lent the Robinsons.
The minister and his wife, who called Naff by the nickname "Bubba," were flown on Naff's private airplane to New York, Las Vegas and Mexico.
As the gifts became plentiful, the Robinsons' attitude changed, making the ministry less of a priority, some churchgoers say.
|n n| In 1991, the Robinsons' ministry moved from the storefront church to their current location on Bonsack Road in Roanoke County. Andrew Robinson found himself heading a growing and loyal congregation.
While the Robinsons' annual salary neared $26,000, it was not enough to support the trips and the cars, said a member who was knowledgeable about the church's finances.
And when the Robinsons, with Naff, moved into their new home on Mineral Springs Drive, the elders of the church became concerned.
They told Robinson that it was not appropriate for Naff to live there, particularly when the Robinsons' three nieces -whose parents were divorcing - also would be moving in. Robinson responded to their concerns with rage, one member said.
"He said that he would appreciate it if we would stay out of his personal life," the member recalls. "He said that God had called him to church, and if anything was wrong, God would take him away."
Despite the worries of churchgoers, the three friends became inseparable.
After Easter services April 3, the situation exploded.
Andrew Robinson asked that all but the regular members leave the church. About 40 members, including Naff, remained. The minister calmly read from Scripture about repentence, then told the gathering that Naff had molested his nieces and banished Naff from the church, according to members who attended.
Naff stood up before the congregation and admitted to sexual improprieties with the girls, who he said solicited him, members said. Then he told the congregation that he had repented before God for his sexual indiscretions.
On April 22, state police charged Naff with sodomy involving the Robinsons' 15- and 16-year-old nieces and sexual abuse involving a 13-year-old niece.
Naff was released on his own recognizance and ordered to have no contact with the three teen-agers. The attorney defending Naff against the criminal charges, R. Andrew Davis, would not comment about his client's case.
``Both sides have been hurt with this issue,'' a church member said. ``Naff has been willing to stand accused. But the Robinsons have acted as if they are untouchable. They were warned. But they took it as people prying into their private life or as jealousy.''
by CNB