Devil at My Heels - Louis Zamperini [121]
The very week I found Christ, two other well-known men did the same. Jim Vaus, the wiretapper for mobster Mickey Cohen, and Stuart Hamblen, the singing cowboy and owner of the famous racehorse El Lobo. They joined me in spreading the Word.
When publishing baron William Randolph Hearst, who owned the Los Angeles Herald Examiner and many other papers, heard of these high-profile conversions, he was so impressed that he called Examiner editor Joe Pine and said, “Blow up Billy Graham,” meaning do a story and give him front-page publicity.
Until then evangelism hadn’t been news, more of a dirty word. That coverage made Dr. Graham famous overnight.
Later I spoke to a big crowd of Examiner carrier boys and their families at the Biltmore Hotel. Joe Pine was there. He said, “We’ve got Jewish people here. We’ve got this and that. But Louis, when you get up and talk, be sure and give them the gospel.” Joe Pine was, evidently, a Christian. He also said, “You have many friends on the paper”—originally the sportswriters—“and we knew you were having a problem. When Hearst called me and said to blow up Billy Graham, it was the best news I could have received.”
“Boy, am I glad Mr. Hearst talked to you,” I said.
“Who do you think talked to Mr. Hearst?” he countered, meaning God.
When the Examiner splashed Billy Graham, the Los Angeles Times did, too. Then it hit Life magazine and went worldwide, and I got invited to speak everywhere, expenses paid. I could also collect an offering. I made a few bucks here and there, but getting around was difficult, since I had defaulted on my loan and lost my car. Then, at a meeting, I met a guy who had a little hamburger joint in Glendale. He said, “I’m getting a new car, Louis. I’ll sell you my DeSoto coupe for a hundred and fifty bucks.” A bargain. It had good tires and ran like a top. Now I had a way to get to more meetings and soon I found myself back in the spotlight like in the old days—only altogether different. Some friends later accused me of accepting Christ for the new publicity it brought, but they were dead wrong. It was thrilling to know I was on the right side for a change. Had I cravenly sought publicity, I certainly wouldn’t have thought or planned to kneel and cry in the sawdust in a dingy tent to find it.
I FORGAVE THE Japanese, I quit drinking, I quit smoking. My only struggle was when I went to parties with my friends. Most of them didn’t think my new religion would last.
I was at a Hollywood get-together at the house of some guy who invented backache pills. My friends stood around drinking with their usual enthusiasm, and they kept urging me to join them. I said, “No way,” but they had trouble accepting my new resolve. I understood. When you’ve known someone so well for so long and suddenly he turns his life around, you’re tempted to look for a practical, understandable answer first. No one considers the spiritual answer off the bat. I didn’t expect my transformation to go down easy, but as the Bible says, a smooth sea never made a good sailor. I believe that to this day.
Later I sat on the floor with the actress Jeanne Crain and some of her eminent show-business friends and witnessed to them—meaning I told about my conversion and answered their questions. They all listened because Billy Graham had made the headlines. Some gave me their cards and asked me to call and tell them more about my experiences privately. Then I went into the backyard, where my old cronies implied I was “chicken” if I didn’t drink. I left then, feeling rather low.
Later that night one of my buddies called and said that the guys pushing me to drink was just “a trick” to see “if that religion of yours was real or just a gag. I know they were pretty rude, but when you left, several of the same guys said, ‘Man, I wish I had the guts to do what he did.’”
I knew that along with their natural curiosity they had doubts about what had happened to me—was it real? would