The Storyteller THE

Baptism Of Tina Jo

It took me a few minutes, but the photo posted on social media looked familiar. Then I read the caption, Old Swim Hole on Highway 51 South. Like aging people, the years can change nature’s terrain also; but, like seeing an acquaintance from the past, with a closer look, you wonder why you didn’t recognize it to begin with. How familiar I was with that place, and for so many reasons. Not the least was its connection to Tina Jo Brewer. Not that she was the first, because she was just one of many. I myself would be baptized in that creek, but that would be four or five years later.

The picture reminded me of my dad’s comment, “This is a nice rocky bottom place to swim and baptize, but if they keep cutting timber near the banks, by the time you’re my age, it won’t be deep enough to piss in.”

I considered that strong language for my dad to use and felt a little sacrilege that he was referring to our baptizing creek. Lots of sins had been forgiven by that water; it wasn’t fair to say anything about pissing in it.

My daddy wasn’t a preacher but, at that time, he was tall and strong. A lot of people asked him to baptize them. I think part of the reason was that my grandpa, who was the preacher, was too old and feeble to do the job. I am sure they feared that if he dipped them in the water, they may not come out. So, Daddy was a good choice.

Creek baptizings were a spectacle, a ritual you might say. Larger, more modern churches had indoor heated baptisteries, but Jesus was baptized in a river, so some people wanted to follow his example.

If it was to be a creek baptizing, people tended to get motivated to be saved in the spring or summer. Obviously, the creek water was cold in the winter. To be truthful, it was cold in the summer, too, as it was fed by numerous springs from upstream. The warm spring weather brought people out. Some would bring picnic baskets to the occasion. There also would be gospel singing, which was a source of entertainment at the time.

I thought the whole process was somewhat archaic. Why did you have to embarrass yourself by getting drenched in a creek to be saved? The Methodists, Presbyterians, and even the Catholics didn’t do that. Maybe when it came my time, I would join one of those churches.

The ceremony would start with a prayer and most likely a couple of gospel songs. Almost always one song would be Shall We Gather at the River. After this, the repentant was led into the water holding on to my daddy’s arm. Then another prayer would be said leading to the submersion.

Back to Tina Jo. There was a larger than normal crowd there that day and I noticed the crowd consisted of more men than usual. I thought I knew the reason. The reason was Tina Jo. You could say, anytime she was around, she was the main attraction.

Tina Joe’s appearance was somewhere between beautiful and sleazy. With a change of dress and more properly applied makeup, she could have been a model somewhere. Maybe, as she was that day, she could have been the bartender at the local country and western tavern. It needs no explanation that, if she leaned over the bar, she would have gotten big tips.

It had not rained in some time and the level of the water in the creek was low. The water, if it flowed at all, flowed slowly. The yellow or gold pollen had settled over the creek, as if to paint it gold. It was the only time I saw the phenomenon and I equated it with nature offering a special decoration for Tina’s special day. I thought maybe Tina was going to be baptized in golden water. Is there a special meaning to that? I still don’t know, but I remember it.

In conservative communities, women did not wear pants, especially for religious events; but for baptizing they most often did. This provided more modesty. After the event, they would go into Mr. Cleves’s house that was located adjacent to the creek, change clothes, and reappear as the new Christian women they were. Usually, there would be applause, and some would become emotional to the point of tears.

Just before Tina Jo and my dad went into the water, it was my job to go into the creek and splash around to make sure there were no snakes. I would be on stand by in the water with a stick, just in case one appeared.

Tina Jo did not disappoint. She wore a rather close-fitting white linen skirt with a like blouse. As she walked into the water, her clothing became transparent. I noticed the panic on the church ladies’ faces, but the men were mesmerized. It got worse.

Dad went through the normal protocol. He asked her if she believed that Jesus Christ was the Son of God and died for the forgiveness of her sins.

She said yes.

Dad then leaned her backwards into the water, raised his left hand, and said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son.”

As her upper torso come out of the water, it was obvious she was not wearing a bra. The cold water emphasized this.

Dad recognized this and, for reasons still unknown, he pushed her back under the water. He then said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

Maybe Dad thought the Holy Ghost would intervene and block the view of her upper torso. It didn’t. It was as visible as if she had nothing on.

Believe it or not, something even worse was about to happen. I was following close behind as she and Dad waded from the creek. I saw it about the same time as all those watching did. It was obvious she didn’t have panties on either.

There was more. As if she had not placed the highest indignity on the sanctimonious group already, there was a tattoo was plainly visible on her rear. Debate would go on for weeks, arguing if it was a T for Tina or a cross for Christ.

I saw things differently. The gold pollen had seeped into the fabric of her clothing and I saw what I thought was a religious miracle - a beautiful woman clothed in fine linen and gold. Others didn’t see it that way. There was commotion among the women. One, who had spread her lunch on a tablecloth, ripped the cloth from the ground, spilling the food. She rushed to make Tina Jo a respectable woman. It was if all the women descended on her at the same time and, when she was deemed modest, they retreated to a gathering within my hearing distance.

“What kind of woman would be caught dead without underwear?” I heard one ask.

“What would the doctor say if she had to go to the hospital?” another said.

Another said she did it on purpose, just to get attention. There were few kind remarks.

This happened on a Sunday afternoon. It was the gossip on front porches and telephone party lines throughout the entire community for the next week and even for months to come.

I am sure Tina Jo was made aware of the dissension she had caused. Knowing a little about her, she may not have minded it. Maybe she did have a slutty side, but she did come to church the next Sunday. She had been shunned by the pious, so she inconspicuously eased in the building and took a seat at the rear right side of the church.

As the church filled, not one woman sat on that side of the church. It was awkward; but what was to come would even bring more attention to the conflict.

Ministers do their best to prepare an appropriate sermon, but sometimes it is not received in that light. My grandfather started the sermon with several readings. The first:

Revelation 19:8

She was given clothing of fine linen, bright and pure. For the fine linen she wears is the righteous acts of the saint.

He then he read Revelation 3:5

Like them, he who overcomes will be dressed in white. And I will never blot out his name from the Book of Life, but I will confess his name before My Father and His angels.

He didn’t stop there, he quoted a few more scriptures mentioning white linen and gold. I don’t think the ladies in the crowd heard any of them. They were hiding behind the hand fans given to the church by the local funeral home.

Unfortunately, the sermon did little to rectify Tina Jo’s transgression. That was the last time she ever attended that church.

Tina Jo must have moved away; or, at least, I never saw her in person again. I am sure her absence was appreciated by most of the female congregation members.

Mrs. Fanny Flowers worked for a company called Luziers. The manufacture ladies’ bras and I think they are still in business today. At that time, she would visit your home and, in its privacy, properly fit you. My mother used her services. I have no idea how long a bra lasts, but I think Mrs. Fanny came every year or so and Mother would order a couple, maybe three. The measurements were kept on file and, when the bras were delivered by mail, there would be a catalog showing other colors and designs that you could order based on your history the company had on file. It was a few years after the baptizing. I was probably 18 by then, and Mother’s order arrived in the mail. Inside was a magazine of other possible designs. It was in color, which was unusual for the time, and it featured real models. I guess you could say it was the nearest thing to a Playboy Magazine I had been exposed to, so I took it to my retreat and studied it carefully. On page two, there she was. Tina Jo, in living color. She had become a model of a sort.

I would learn through an acquaintance of hers that she had made her way to Dallas and attempted to become a fashion model. She learned she was not the type needed at that time. The prototype was now the flat chested, anorexically thin type, as portrayed by Twiggy. The Marilyn Monroe types were passee.

As to her religious endeavors after she never attended our church again, I just don’t know. However, I expect, knowing her, she continued to dress in white linen and delighted in being the main attraction.

John S. Case May 2023

by: Mike Rich, CFP® | Pontchartrain Investment Management