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‘For the truth we must always fight …’

Willie McGary: Poet, preacher and collector

Editor’s note: The subjects in this weekly series are chosen as we go about the business of reporting local events. These stories don’t necessarily have anything to do with the news of the day; they have everything to do with how we live our lives.

 

By KURT MOORE
The Marion Star

MARION — In a town known for manufacturing most of the world’s gaming machines and birthing Harrah’s Entertainment casinos, Willie McGary decided to give his life to the Lord in 1979.

McGary, who was 30 at the time, was working at Harrah’s casino in Reno, Nev. He had started going to a church and said what convinced him to do so was how nice the people of the church acted towards him. That showed him the love of God.

It was also something else that triggered his decision and led him to attend church. It was something his mother said before he left Marion, words that still remained in his mind on Friday as he sat in his extended garage surrounded by antiques, African drums and spiritual guides.

“When I was going, my mom said, ‘Give God some of your time.’ I said, ‘There’s no problem with that.’”

McGary gave some of his time to God. When God smacked him a year later in San Francisco with the knowledge that he was to return to Marion, he obeyed. It wasn’t up to him to question the Lord’s word.

It would be after that trip back east that he would discover the power of a smile, stopping at a gas station where he would see the grin of the woman he would later marry. He would also find out why God was calling him back.

McGary, who lives on Marion’s north side with his wife Dedra and sons Daunte and Nate, serves as the pastor of True Faith Church of God in Christ. He became pastor in 2003 when he moved up the ranks and succeeded his uncle, the Rev. Willie Creagh, father of Columbus bluesman Willie Phoenix.

McGary’s motto is simple, that God can do anything, all things are possible with Christ.

“That means you have to do it his way, walking in his prescribed manner,” he said. “You have to love everybody, even your enemies.”

He had turned off the radio in his garage, putting a temporary end to jazz greats like his favorite, saxophonist John Klemmer. His rendition of the Gullah spiritual “Kumbaya,” sung as he pounded on his drums, had lent a spiritual air to a structure that housed antiques and novelties. It also demanded honesty, such as that it isn’t always easy being a pastor in an era where any satisfaction short of immediate isn’t exactly good enough.

“To me it’s real hard, but you make the commitment to God,” he said. “We live in a microwave society and everyone wants a quick fix. But we have to do it the way God says to do it. We have to do right when others are doing wrong to get ahead.”

Someone’s praying Lord, Kum ba yah. McGary had sung the song to completion, striking the drums to the rhythm of his voice. It was a hobby that he relegates to his garage, a way to get away as he stood in a house of old glass and a land of older words and prejudices.

“It’s another way to soothe the savage beast within, kind of like therapy to me,” said McGary, named after his Uncle Willie.

The same hands had once swung a hammer, working for Baldauf Construction and other companies as a laborer until an injury forced him to quit. It was a career of a lot of miles, of grunt work that he said keeps a person in good physical shape if it doesn’t kill him.

Now he uses his hands to not only pray but to grasp and admire others’ craftsmanship, to cradle pink milk glassware that sits among pieces he purchased from former Marion antique dealer Rose Gribble. He pointed to the glassware, so mild a pink that it appears to be white upon first view.

“To me it’s subtle, just has a soft touch,” he said.

The pieces sit with other glassware on shelves that hang over assorted odds and ends that fill his garage. A collector of such items, he pointed out an old catcher’s mitt and proudly showed off Native American arrowheads. Another section of the garage contains posters of black nationalism crusader Marcus Garvey and militant black leader Malcolm X.

Decades after the civil rights era ended, the 58-year-old black man acknowledged that being a pastor isn’t the only thing difficult in 2006. To describe it he borrowed a line from black poet Langston Hughes, “a dream deferred.”

“Or in my own words, promises never kept,” said McGary. “We have the Constitution, but not everyone is equal under the law.”

In seemingly stark contrast to his sharp opinions, McGary remains a quiet man, saving many of his thoughts for those who ask. He saves much of the sting of his convictions to his poetry, to phrases that not only capture love and faith but the pain of racism in America as well.

He has shared his poetry with others and encouraged them to do the same, serving as master of ceremonies of an annual poetry reading at his church and reading it at the Lind “A” Helping Hand Expo held recently at Martin Luther King, Jr. Park. He takes exceptional joy in encouraging the youth to share, something that family friend Michael Oliver, a local artist who shared his artwork at the second reading, said he admires.

“It gives poets a chance to get some exposure,” he said “It gives them an outlet they probably wouldn’t have otherwise.”

McGary said he likes the brutal honesty of poetry. He is a believer that if he asks others to bare their souls, he should be willing to do the same.

His favorite poem out of those he’s written reflects on a universal concept close to his heart and his spirituality. It’s named “The Truth.”

“The truth is not always sweet, not always kind,” he said, reciting part of it. “For the truth we must always fight. For no matter who it hurts, it’s always right.”

Reporter Kurt Moore: 740-375-5151 or kdmoore@nncogannett.com