Peace, Brother!

One day last week Father Divine, whose spiritual followers love to press their money on him, sent seven of his faithful flock from Philadelphia to Newark to buy the 300-room Riviera Hotel. It was a simple process. The seven loaded seven battered suitcases full of five, ten and twenty dollar bills, took them on the train, lugged their burdens seven blocks from the station to the Federal Trust Company. There they set their bags down and asked Federal's astonished bankers for a $550,000 treasurer's check.

There were certain delays. The delegation was asked, with horror, why it had not had a police escort. The answer: "We trusted in the Lord, as always." Fourteen tellers were set to work counting up the bills, needed 3 1/2 hours to verify the total. But by evening the faithful had their check. By the next day the hotel had been purchased and one Brother Germain had announced new rules for guests: 1) no smoking, 2) no drinking, 3) no wives and husbands allowed in the same bedroom.

Newark's reaction: B-o-i-n-n-n-n-g-g!

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