Mr. Cane

That was not his real name.  A few of us in the church referred to him as “Mr. Cane” because he was always carrying a walking cane.  I shall refer to him as Mr. Shannon.  He owned a small used furniture business on Eighth Avenue South in Nashville and was a member of Faith Church which I served as student pastor (1963-64) while in college, 1962-65. 

Mr. Shannon claimed to be a preacher of sorts.  In his younger years he had a district license to preach but was never ordained.  With my being the new, young pastor of the church Mr. Shannon was eager to make friends with me, which he did.  I visited him in his home and place of business and generally was interested in his stories from the past.  I found him to be an interesting character and grew to like him even with his peculiarities. Several times he mentioned that he had never preached at Faith Church but would like to sometime.  The previous pastor would not let him preach.  He loaned me a couple of his sermon “manuscripts” to read stating that Dr. Greathouse, pastor at Nashville First Church, had read them, and that Dr. Greathouse had encouraged him in his preaching. 

His manuscripts were not bad—certainly no masterpieces—so I finally gave in and asked him to preach one Sunday night thinking that he would stick to his manuscript.  He had indicated that he would stay with one of the manuscripts that he let me read.  However, in reality what happened was that he would preach a sentence or two from his manuscript and then go off on a tangent.  He preached for more than an hour.  I was on “pins and needles” the entire time and was very glad when he finished.  Much of his sermon was rambling and incoherent and I sat there wondering why I ever agreed to the idea of his preaching.  To myself I vowed never to have him preach again, and he never did as long as I remained pastor.

Now for his name, “Mr. Cane.”  One day as I visited Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham, charter members of the church, Mrs. Cunningham told me that Mr. Shannon had a gun in the cane that he carried.  She was worried that someone would get hurt; she had heard that he killed a man at his store a few years before.  She insisted that something be done about Mr. Shannon’s cane.  I assured her that I would find out if there was a gun in the cane.

Among the few other college students attending Faith Church was Vernon Fuller.  Vernon was a little older than most juniors.  He had completed a term in the U. S. Army and was now attending college on the G. I. Bill and helping me out at the church.  I approached Vernon about helping me find out if there was a gun in Mr. Shannon’s cane.  It was going to be difficult because it appeared that the cane was never out of Mr. Shannon’s sight.  I could not personally do much about checking the cane because I was always on the platform during services.  Vernon accepted the mission with some enthusiasm and intrigue.  He started sitting on the back row during services so he could keep an eye on “Mr. Cane.”

Mr. Shannon had to go to the restroom two or three times during each service, so I thought that Vernon would have a chance to check the cane during one of the restroom trips.  Vernon agreed and began getting up and following Mr. Shannon each time he left the sanctuary to go to the men’s room.  From the platform I would notice each time this happened and hoped that Vernon might be able to complete the assignment.  However, the first several times Vernon failed because Mr. Shannon would take the cane into the restroom with him.

After a few weeks of this, Vernon came to me following a Sunday morning service beaming.  He had completed his mission.  During one trip to the restroom that morning Mr. Shannon had set his cane by the restroom door.  While Mr. Shannon was busy inside Vernon grabbed the cane and pulled it apart. The cane did have something in it, but it was not a gun—it was a dagger!

I visited the Cunninghams that week and assured Mrs. Cunningham that there was no pistol in Mr. Shannon’s cane.  I told her about Vernon checking the cane and we could say with certainty that there was no gun.  I never told her about the dagger; that would have continued the saga that I did not want continued.  With some reservation she seemed to accept my conclusion.

They never told me in my ministerial training that I would have to be part private-eye.

(NOTE:  Some names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.)