Praise the Lord & Pass the Ammo. The Gun-Totin' Preacher

Came across this bio today of an old time Texas preacher named B.B. Crim. Died in 1950. To say they don't make them like this anymore is an understatement.

Rest of article on Wordpress site.

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ev. Crimm was an imposing figure, six-feet – three inches tall, rawboned, wearing cowboy boots and a ten gallon hat most of the time. He preached about hell as though he was born and reared there. His unusual antics in the pulpit created much interest and his large tent would always be full of people wanting to see and hear more.

Crimm was born in Van Zandt County, Texas, in 1886, which is also famous for its annual Fire Ant Festival. That event features the hottest chili this side of Perdition. His parents named him Bertie Bridges Crimm, which he understandably shortened to B.B. Crimm. Later he accepted the sobriquet “Cowboy Crimm”, probably because of his career as a rodeo performer and a cattle rustler before he lit out down the Sawdust trail of preaching.

During his first three years as a preacher, he was pastor of 23 different churches. This was not a reflection of extraordinary demand. It was a consequence of frequently being hired on Sunday morning and fired on Sunday evening.

I can recall him jumping on top of a piano one night during his sermon....

An incident occurred in Nacogdoches in which someone walked up to the pulpit in mid-sermon and handed Crimm a note. The intrepid preacher read it aloud. The author expressed his desire to kill the evangelist. Without breaking rhythm, Cowboy opined that the next morning at 10 o’clock would be a good time to try it since he intended to be walking down Main street in Nacogdoches with his pistols strapped to his hips. Crimm was good as his word. The would-be-assassin failed to show up but the tent that night was packed with sinners eager to hear the cowboy’s message. Most people think that Crimm wrote the note himself.

Crimm has his own way of dealing with hecklers. To one of them, he said, “Inside this tent I am Brother Crimm, but outside it I’m just plain old B.B. Would you like to settle this in here or out there?” On another occasion somebody put a drunk up to heckling the preacher. The 6-foot-three Crimm walked away from the pulpit, gave the lush a Sunday punch, and walked back to announce, “The next one who comes in like that is going out on a stretcher.”

Crimm did not believe in conversion by the sword. His tool of choice was the six-gun. He often laid a pistol on the pulpit prior to his preaching. After the introductory formalities and song service, he was known to grab the gun, fire a few shots into the air right through the top of the tent, and by this act let the folks know that what was to follow was serious business. ...

Crimm preached a sermon entitled, “Why Drunkards Who Beat Their Wives and Drive Fords Go To Hell”. He was gunning for a particular sinner in town, one who eventually was converted....

One night in a meeting attended by more than one thousand people, a woman came forward saying, “Oh, Brother Grimm, I have come to lay my tongue on the altar.” The woman was a noted gossip in the community. Bro. Crimm replied, “I’m sorry Ma’am, our altar is only eight feet long, but you go and put whatever part of it you are able to get on it!”

Bro. Crimm loved to fox hunt. Every time he came to San Augustine he would bring several fox hounds with him. After night services he and a group of local fox hunters, including my dad, Cecil, Dave Sibley, and Cecil Jones among them, would spend the rest of the night chasing the elusive fox.

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