I Came From the Land Beyond the Sea

Published Aug 2, 2023, 12:07 PM

As a child, Marcy was never allowed to attend a United House of Prayer service — her family told her it was taboo. But the church — which Daddy Grace founded in 1919 — is still going strong. So what’s going on?  Why did Daddy Grace want to start his own church in the first place? How did he manage to grow it so quickly? And what are the services actually like? Marcy travels down to Charlotte, NC to find out for herself.

For more on Sweet Daddy Grace, check out SweetDaddyGrace.com.

I'm a Cape Verdian living in America. My family made sacrifices so I could have this life, and it was from my family stories that I first learned of our history with sweet Daddy Grace. In short, my family isn't particularly so enthused about.

Our connection to him.

They would prefer to keep their distance from this charismatic and controversial preacher. My aunt Judy remembers some of the things her grandfather, Nola Locke said about Bishop Grace.

He did say that originally that Daddy Grace he felt he was legit, that he was a legitimate, a man of the word, But then somewhere down the line he went off that and became cultish.

This feeling of distrust continued through the generations.

My parents, you know, they had nothing to do with him or his so called religion. Strangely enough, my father's first cousins were followers of Daddy Grace, and there were stories that were told. Whether they were true or not, I don't know, but my father said that one of his cousins was told that she was an angel, and she was at church and she decided to jump off the platform, and in so doing fell and broke her wrist.

But when I heard these stories about him, it had the opposite effect.

They just made me.

More curious and I needed to know more. So I booked a flight to Charlotte in the midst of a hurricane to attend the House of Prayer's annual convocation. It's the church's biggest celebration, so what a perfect time for me to get to know the church from the inside. I'm Marcy de Pena and from iHeart Podcasts, Enforce and Media group. This is sweet Daddy, Grace.

Good, glad for being happy, Power, You're glad, Ahamada, are happy, down and cried.

We're b.

I am in the parking lot of the Charlotte Mother House of the United House of Prayer for All People. The convocation starts today. I actually feel a little nervous. I'm not sure why. I'm trying to remember actually the last time I was in church. It's been a while. My relationship to organized religion, like many people's, is a bit complicated. My father completely distanced himself from his strict Church of the Nazarene upbringing. My mother, on the other hand, was a C and E Catholic, that's a Christmas and Eastern Catholic. My parents and I, we didn't talk a lot about church. Instead, my mother taught me all about astrology. She instructed me in the power of plant medicine. She gave me an education in the power of music. Those became my church. Also, as a Cape Verdean, I've always worn a sabichi or quante d I old you, a bead that protects you from evil spirits.

We have a lot of spiritual practices and.

Rituals that have nothing to do with Christianity, but are also not in conflict with it. There has always been an awareness of this spirit world, our ancestors, and the power of words and manifestation, And for as long as I can remember, I've had intuitive, lucid dreams.

My mother shared this gift.

While we may not have gone to church, she and I often spoke about our inseparable connections to spirit. In other words, we talked that hippie shit. So you can imagine my surprise when, while I was in third grade, my mother and stepfather chose to become born again Christians. They got saved, and let me just say, that opened up a whole other world. That's when we started going to revivals and services one hot summer day, we attended a big tent revival in Boston. It was led by a Nigerian pastor. I remember the feeling of the humid air and the sound of the bugs and the throb of life that children are particularly attuned to. The tent was large and packed to the brim. My family and I we were seated in the middle. There was a band upfront. The music was operating on high vibration. You could feel the energy thrilled through the crowd. I could feel the frequency pulsating throughout my little body too. When the music calmed and the pastor spoke, I felt the spirit moving through her.

I was riveted. I was enraptured.

She made the call asking if anyone wanted to be saved. I did not hesitate. I popped up out of my seat and walked up to the front of the sanctuary as fast as my little legs could get me there. I stood there before everybody in this packed tent, the only child in a line of adults and teens. We were calm and ready. The pastor walked down the line asking us to accept Jesus into our hearts as our Lord and savior. When the pastor got to me. She reached down and touched my forehead and I fell out. When I got back up, I felt like a different person. When I got back to my seat, my mother told me that I had been speaking in tongues. I don't think my eight year old self knew how to articulate what I'd experienced, but it felt like a profound light had washed over me, and I knew in that moment, without a single doubt in my tiny little body, I had spiritual gifts. From that point on, the church and our faith became a big part of our lives. We attended multiple services a week. We went to Bible study and pot luck dinners. My mom was a music minister and I sang in the choir. It was our community. It felt like every day I was doing something related to church.

And let me tell you, the rules were strict.

For one, we weren't allowed to listen to secular music, and I loved Prince, so this was a serious conflict. I couldn't dress up anymore on Halloween, that was a demonic holiday. We were expected to only hang out with other church goers. It didn't matter that I was a kid, I had my spiritual life to consider. We were constantly repenting for our sins. We stayed ready for Jesus's return in the rapture. But as I reached adolescence, I began to read and study Black in African history, and my curiosity about spirituality expanded. I learned more about traditional African spiritual practices and recognized many beliefs and customs that were also part of Cape Verdean culture. I also came to know the influence of Islam, Buddhism, and other systems of mysticism and thought, like numerology, and my passion for astrology, something I had given up since my conversion, was reignited. All that I learned challenged the notion that there was only one true religion and if you weren't saved, you were going to Hell soon enough, though, I moved away to go to college, and like so many other first year college students, that pretty much marked the end of my church going days. All of this was swirling around inside of me when I parked my car outside the United House of Prayer in Charlotte, North Carolina. Meanwhile, at the same time, Hurricane Ian, a hurricane that began in the Atlantic waters surrounding Kabovid was heading into town. Both inside of me and outside, a storm was gathering. Six years had passed since the last time I stepped inside of a church. I didn't know what was going to happen. Would I feel the presence of God? Would it feel like a coat?

Or worse?

What if I felt nothing at all? I once heard a story. Daddy Grace never intended to live in the United States. He only meant to come here seasonally, do some work, and return to Kabovid with fresh coin in his pockets. This was long before he was known as Sweet Daddy Grace. He was happy on his home island of Brava, where he was already al vocal celebrity. Young Marcellino Manuel de Grasa was known for his storytelling abilities.

People would come.

From around the island to hear him tell folk tales. He was determined to stay in Brava right up until God told him this wasn't an option. To convey this message, God turned to fire one day out of nowhere, Marcellino's hair started burning. He immediately knew it was God speaking to him. God told him that if he did not go to America and spread the word, he would have no hair left. Marcellino had no choice. In nineteen oh four, he left cabuverd and he'd never return. Weeks later he arrived in New Bedford, Massachusetts. It may have eased the transition that much of his family was in fact already there, including his brother Joseph, who had founded a church. And still thinking, probably about his burning hair, he began to look for a place to worship. Cape Verdeans were unwelcome in the local Portuguese Catholic church, so he explored the area's Protestant churches, including his brothers. As Marcelino Manuel de Grasa settled into life in America, he began to carve out a new identity for himself. First step a new name. His new last name, Grace, was simply a translation of the Grasa from Portuguese to English. He kept his middle name Manuel, but for his new first name, he dreamed big Charles, the King of Portugal, the colonial ruler of Capoved was named Carlos. The root of Charles it means freeman. Daddy Grace was writing his story, so Charles Manuel Grace attended church service.

After church service.

Pentecostal Baptist, Methodist studying the Bible and sometimes even preaching at his brother's chapel.

He was searching for a church that spoke to his soul.

He also got married to a Cape Verdian woman named Jeanie. They had a daughter, Irene and a son, Norman, but the marriage was rocky, and shortly after Norman was born, Daddy Grace left the family. According to him, his wife Genie was not cut out for the spiritual life. She however, said that their discord was because Daddy Grace was paying attention to another woman. Whatever the reason for the demise of their relationship, it set Charles M. Grace on a new path, a journey to find a church where he could fulfill the mission that God sent him to complete, to spread the Gospel in America and save souls. Finally, one day he found his religion. Quite literally, he decided to found his own religion. In nineteen nineteen, Charles Grace founded a church in West Wareham, Massachusetts. He dubbed it the United House of Prayer for All People and gave himself the title of Bishop. Just two years later, he opened a second church in New Bedford. He joined the growing African American Holiness Pentecostal movement sweeping across the country. Black people in America were looking for liberation and hope. But this was not just a time of spiritual awakening among Black Americans. It was also a time of religious change. In the wake of World War One and the ravages of the Spanish flu, people were hungry for a spiritual message that could sustain their souls. It was the time of charismatic pastors, itinerant preachers, and the radio evangelists like Amy Simple McPherson and Billie Sunday. Through the power of mass communication, they broadcast their messages far beyond the tent poles of the revivals. So Bishop Grace took his church on the road, heading south along the Eastern seaboard. By nineteen twenty three, he made his first trip in what he called a gospel car. Daddy Grace didn't invent this idea. Other preachers before him had traveled in special cars. What Daddy Grace did was take the gospel car to another level. He plastered his car with Bible verses. He also decorated it with enormous signs announcing when he'd be in town. There was even a figure on top of the car. It was of himself, robed and winged. The man knew how to make a memorable appearance. He even ventured overseas, spent two months in the Holy Land of Jerusalem, where he preached, healed, and converted people. He built a house of prayer in Egypt. When he returned to the States, he had grown a full beard. Reinvigorated with purpose, Daddy Grace got back on the road to continue his mission and grow his following in America.

It is not typical of the time the way he was able to expand in an age when communication was quite difficult. He would travel with little groups of followers and set up this huge experience that turned into a new congregation.

Doctor Marie Dallam is a professor of American religion and associate dean at the University of Oklahoma, also the author of one of the few published books about Daddy Grace. Doctor Dollom has always been particularly impressed by Daddy Grace's marketing abilities. For instance, she marvels at his stagecraft. He would travel from town to town, careful to send a small advanced group ahead of him. They'd typically show up armed with musical instruments and loudspeakers. Basically, he invented his own version of the hype man.

They'd find a place to set up the tent, they'd do the advertising. They would be the first people at the service to make sure that there were exuberant, enthusiastic people paying attention.

This worked for a while, but Daddy Grace had a greater.

Vision for his church. He became a master of using the press to get his message out to bigger and bigger crowds. When he'd hit town, Daddy Grace would invite local newspaper men to his sermons. He'd also pay for ads in the same paper touting his healing abilities and his mysterious foreign origins. Sometimes he'd announced that he had returned from the Holy Land. Other times he claimed that he was from the Holy Land. It worked.

People came in large numbers.

They had to know more about this flashy man with the gospel car the man who claimed he possessed the power to heal and to save them all. Who was this sweet Daddy Grace. It's a question that's not easy to answer, and this enigma was central to his appeal and to his power. He was a pleasing mystery. Daddy Grace may have been happy for others to wonder about him, but he knew who he was and he acted like it. To him, the answer was simple. It was self evident. He was God's disciple sent to save America.

It's part of the whole free market of American religion. And he had a product, and he had a message, and he had a style, and it was compelling to lots of people.

That's doctor James Fisher, Professor Emeritus of Theology and American Studies at Fordham University.

All the people are skeptical about new religious movements like that. People say, oh, it's a cult and that kind of thing, brainwashing, But I always point out that you got to get people more credit for exercising their own free will.

Part of what made Daddy Grace so appealing was that both what he said in his sermons and how he said it offered something to almost everyone.

You may be black, black as stole, we may be white black milk, we may.

Be rich black, I don't know where going have it.

For shee God's him. On the one hand, he's really in that holiness Pentecostal tradition. But you can't help but notice there's elements of Catholic ritual. He has almost a Catholic preaching style. So it's a blend, which is everything to be back is, it's a blend. He's just really relatable for many people I think who are seeking, you know.

Thinking about it now. The tent revival I attended with my parents back in Boston, the one where I spoke in tongues, It was probably very similar to Daddy Grace's revivals. Joyful praise and powerful music, led by an African immigrant preacher, pulling from many traditions, compelling his audience with rolling tones. His crowd was hopeful, eagerly awaiting salvation. But Daddy Grace wasn't met with open arms everywhere. Some people just trusted this mystery, this fluidity. After all, this was the nineteen twenties and nineteen thirties, a time of the snake oil salesman, of illusionists, of hucksters who were just in it for the money.

He comes out on the religious scene in the late twenties. This whole jack leg preacher debate going on in American culture, where you get things like that Charlatan preacher who goes from city to city, town to town and robs the people, promises them all these fantastic things.

That's Xavier Sivell's. He's a doctoral student at Mississippi State studying, among other things, African American history, including the intersection of race, class, sexual identity, and gender.

And I think those are the things that people stuck to, you know, and maybe that's how we get interesting stories.

Xavier is familiar with these stories about Daddy Grace. He's even heard some of them from his own grandmother, whose parents were members of the House of Prayer in Norfolk, Virginia.

My grandmother used to tell this story about she had heard from her parents that he went out on the James River and had set up some sort of contraction to where it looked like he was walking on water, and people were amazed, like, oh, my goodness, crisis returned to the figure of Daddy Grace.

I've actually seen footage of this, at least a version of it. It's from an old newsreel, the kind that they used to play in a theater before a movie.

Rolled up to date with an amphibious jeep.

The pictures of Negro baptism with Newport News, Virginia are here again. Bishop Grace conducting his annual setimony of salvation.

Total immersion is the.

Older of the day.

He wasn't walking on water, per se. He was seated in this kind of white boat like vehicle, except it had wheels and a convertible roof. On the side of the car, there was a painted message, Grace's Gospel must go over the land and sea, which it did. The car drives down into the water and then starts floating. Honestly, it's still pretty cool to see, But Daddy Grace isn't pretending to walk on water. He's seated baptizing people. It kind of seems like he just didn't want to get wet. But I can imagine how it might have looked a car that drives into the water and then Daddy Grace is out there baptizing the congregation. It's powerful imagery. Xavier can see that too. As the story gets told and retold, as it's passed down, how many of the details change. We've all played the game of telephone, right.

My grandmother heard this from her parents, who were illiterate, who had friends who were illiterate, and you know, they just saw this happening. What didn't mean for him to be in a bigious vehicle, probably did feel like he was walking on water, right. I'm interested in how he's perceived by people because I think that's a huge.

Part of the mystery perception. That's an interesting concept. Here's an example. In the early days of the United House of Prayer, Daddy Grace was doing a lot of healing. It was a big part of his message and a main draw. He practiced the act of laying hands on his parishioners, offering blessings, prayers, and the transmission of spiritual energy. People, mostly African Americans, flocked from near and far to marvel at his services. He was selling something that money couldn't buy. Sometimes, after he touched someone, that person might joelt having caught the spirit. But there was a rumor going around that actually Daddy Grace wore a battery powered electric belt under his shirt to physically shock people. Daddy Grace had an answer to this during a sermon in Wilmington, Delaware. He put his hand on his belly and he said, brethren, that's no battery. You know what that is.

That's chicken.

He then added, addressing the doubters even more pointedly, if you believe, then I'm right. Then to you, I'm right. If you believe that I'm wrong, then to you, I'm wrong. I am what I am. It is hard to prove whether or not Daddy Grace himself healed anyone. But in a time where hope and faith were means of survival, he gave his parishioners something to believe in. And if he offered hope, if their faith was there, does it actually matter how they were healed?

So for me, the service is always had me hooked.

That's Xavier again.

They always had me wanting to go back to the next one or trying to somehow be around it. Every Sunday, especially when the bishop would come into town for the church's convocation season. You know, everyone shows up and you know, to be at this large church where it's standing room only, and it's an experience and I'd never seen anything like it. There's nothing that compares to it. A lot of people criticize the church for better or worse, but their faith is real, like you can feel it.

Daddy Grace started the tradition of convocation in the United House of Prayer nearly one hundred years ago. It's still a big event traveling the country, going strong. Last year, it lasted for twelve weeks and went to twelve different cities.

People book their hotel.

Rooms months out and everything calledmates in Charlotte. Members come from all around the country to attend the Grand Finale, which has a huge parade, banned competitions, a closing sermon from the bishop, and a massive baptism. It's like a giant family reunion. Convocation is in many ways reminiscent of the types of religious celebrations that take place in Kabalvid, Saint Dave celebrations, Christmas, New Year's and even funerals end with giant processions through the street. There are decorated floats, horses, a king, queen and a royal court, and of course music heavy on the drums and horns, leading everyone to the church for dancing, food, and naturally more music. This influence is evident in the United House of Prayers convocations. In nineteen forty seven, The Charlotte Observer featured a lengthy article on that year's parade, which was believed to be one of the city's largest at that time. It describes boys selling peanuts and sodas to thousands of spectators lining the streets of Charlotte. It was vibrant, colorful, with Grace Flower girls dressed in white, gray, soul hunters in orange and green, and the Grace Jubilee Choir in blue ropes. Most people walk the route, but the lucky ones rode in or on one of the trucks, cars or horses decorated with red, white and blue streamers. One boy even danced a few steps of the Jitterbug on top of a horse, which the crowd apparently loved, and naturally, Daddy Grace made his own entrance. He arrived towards the back of the parade in a red, white and blue amphibious jeep. He was seated on a throne of sheets and pillows, attendants by a side. I may have been a little nervous about going to the church, but I was excited to experience convocation for myself. But if I'm going to be honest, the first thing I did when I got to Charlotte was go to the House of Prayer kitchen. I was curious to see if the food was going to taste like it did when I was a kid back in New Bedford. I don't know what to expect now with the convocation but I'm excited and I'm looking forward to it. And now I'm about to get into this food. I cannot wait. I got fried whiting with steam, cabbage, mac and cheese, and some corn bread. I put some hot sauce on it already. Oh my god, this is really like bringing me back to being a kid. It's so good. I love how food speaks to the spirit. Similar to music. Food is literal sustenance. It's this way to build and support one's community, to grow strong bodies and minds with souls to match. This, of course, was the wisdom the Black Panthers used for their free breakfast program. They knew that food rebuilds what's broken, it tends to what ales. Sweet Daddy Grace understood this as well, the power of food, especially as a Cape Verdean where starvation was a reality for so many. His church kitchen doors were open to anyone who was hungry, even if they couldn't.

Afford to eat.

It was also a great business model to earn income for the church and to employ members of the congregation. Tasting this food once again in Charlotte brought me back to the feeling of community my neighborhood growing up the comfort of home.

Plus it's so damn delicious. That helps too.

They must have like a special recipe that they use for the breading on this. It's so good. All right now, I gotta try the corn bramm.

Wow.

You guys can't see me, but I'm doing the food dance, sweet Daddy Grace. I was baptized in the ocean, probably even in the same waters where Daddy Grace baptized his new Bedford followers. For me, as a Cape Verdean, the ocean is a place that I go to care for myself. Really, just water in general, whether it's the ocean or even taking a shower, it's symbolic of washing away whatever, whatever you're feeling, whatever you want to release. I imagine that Daddy Grace felt similarly, and I imagine for him a baptism was a very holy act, a form of communion with the spirit. The press loved to cover Daddy Grace's baptisms, where thousands and thousands of people might come out to watch him in his element.

Here's doctor Dollam again.

Daddy Grace did like to do big public baptismal events. He would do them in rivers or lakes. He would build pools baptismal pools at his churches.

Daddy Grace was on a mission to save as many souls as needed saving, but in cities like New York, Baltimore, and Detroit, it was difficult to access bodies of water large enough to accommodate the crowds. Daddy Grace had to get creative. He focused on what water he and his people did have access to from the fire highth drends.

Fire hose baptisms were much more controversial because they're so reminiscent of anti black violence committed by law enforcement in the Civil Rights era, but even before the Civil Rights era. So there's this kind of why would you choose that mechanism to baptize people? And I don't know the answer to that, but again, it got impressed, It got him attention. It's certainly a spectacular kind of event.

There's not a lot of footage of Daddy Grace preaching, but I've watched some of the clips of the baptisms, and doctor Dollam is right, they're really an event. There'd often be thousands of spectators there watching hundreds of people, all dressed in white, prepared to be baptized. By Daddy Grace, but as doctor Dollam also mentioned, not all the attention around these baptisms was good. In nineteen twenty six, during a baptism at a lake near Charlotte, one of his aides began to struggle in the water. Daddy Grace tried to save the man, but the man drowned. According to the newspapers, Daddy Grace, seeing that there were so many people waiting to be baptized, went back in the water to finish his work, seemingly unworried.

Did he know someone had drowned one hundred feet over there?

Maybe?

Maybe not.

There was also this interesting component that it seems like he continued baptizing even though there had been a tragedy that took place, which I cannot make sense of. I almost wonder if the story is not quite true in the way it has been reported, because who would do that?

Like doctor Dollam, I'm also a little confused by this story what really happened. Daddy Grace's own response to the tragedy, at least what was quoted in the newspapers, doesn't really clear anything up. He tells the press that he thought quote it was good for the man, it was a beautiful way to die, don't you think so? He was working for the glory of heaven. One thing does seem true. Daddy Grace was really good at taking a positive spin on things. At his core, he really understood the power of marketing. From the way he dressed to how he traveled, to what he said and what he said or did, and especially what people thought he.

Said or did.

It didn't always correspond with what people expected a preacher to be doing or wearing or saying. Add to that mix, a black man who seemed unafraid of anything in his path, who didn't mind a little pageantry, and whose message and methods were attracting followers at a really high rate, well you're going to.

Have some controversy.

Daddy Grace was driven by his belief in God and the Holy Spirit, and the people who heard him they felt this. His empire of faith grew quickly. But you have to remember he was preaching to integrated crowds, openly ignoring segregation rules. He was arrested several times for violating segregation laws. And this was in the Jim Crow South, a truly dangerous time and place for a black man in America, especially a black man with power, influence, and growing wealth. Just a few years prior, in nineteen nineteen, white mobs had brutally attacked and murdered hundreds and hundreds of black people across the country in what became known as the Red Summer, And in nineteen twenty one, the tall Al Race Massacre destroyed the prosperous black business district and residential neighborhood of Greenwood and killed as many as three hundred people. Daddy Grace, no doubt was aware of the risks he faced. He was certainly aware of the ascendant dominance of the klu Klux Klan. By the early nineteen twenties, there were millions of enrolled members of the newly revived KKK. Men in white hoods would show up at his services, and there are numerous accounts of the clan's attempts to scare him off and chase him out of town. But Bishop Grace couldn't be scared off. And I wonder if his unwillingness to shrink from bigotry earned him greater respect and reverence in the eyes of his followers. I went to Charlotte because I wanted to experience Daddy Grace's Church for myself during the most vibrant time convocation. I also thought, as a non member, it might be easier for me to blend in in such a big crowd. Charlotte is home to one of the largest congregations in the country, and of the nine churches which are called houses, none is greater than the Mother House. It's an impressive building. The main sanctuary fits a couple thousand people, and it has a splendid baptismal pool. The entrance is huge, with white doors and two statues of lions flanking the stairs. Tall golden steeples reached to the sky. It's a serious place, a magnificent place, but a serious place.

Here's a confession.

I've been familiar with Daddy Grace for most of my life, the legends, his legacy, the food. But I've never attended a single service, never even stepped inside the sanctuary. My family always told me it was forbidden to enter. Here's another thing. I almost didn't make it to Charlotte. My trip happened to coincide with Hurricane Ian, and I was certain it'd be canceled. But now here I was in the parking lot looking up at the doors of the motherhouse. Hearing the last of the rain splatter against the roof of my car, I was glad I'd arrived, but I also felt like I was doing something taboo, something my family would not approve of. Despite the bright red thread of doubt running through me, I knew I had to find out for myself.

I had to get closer to Daddy Grace.

So I reached for the door handle with one hard yank, tugged it open, and I stepped inside. It's probably pretty obvious I'm not from here, so it was interesting to have people ask me, you know, like, hey, who are you and what are you doing here? And I explained that I was visiting. I'm from New Jersey, but I grew up in Massachusetts and New Bedford and that, you know, Daddy Grace is one of my ancestors. And the woman I was talking to, she was just like, we, you know, have to have a special seat for you at the convocation. We're going to have you sit right up in front. And I'm like, oh my god, you know, like, wow, okay, that's a lot, but okay, it's just I was just like, what did I just get myself into? And then a few of the other folks came out and they started kind of whispering, Oh my God, welcome, and they were like, you even look like Daddy Grace, Like we can tell you're his family. My first time ever in a house of prayer, I was treated as family. I was welcomed in as a grace. That stirred something inside of me, something I couldn't stop thinking about even after the service ended. Like as many mysteries, this one is mine or perhaps it is ours to share. So it is now almost four o'clock. I feel completely overwhelmed emotionally. The church service was actually really soul filling and you know, hearing words I needed to hear, feeling music that really moves me. Yeah, I danced, I cried, I got my hands as saying long and I did feel the spirit move in that place, which was pretty incredible. I felt the love, I felt the goodness. I've spent a lot of time with Daddy Grace, especially if you consider that he died twenty years before I was born. The man has been a presence in my life, from overhearing those family whispers as a kid to now outside of his church in Charlotte on that blustery fall day. The last of the hurricane passed overhead in the end, more of a rainstorm than a catastrophic landfall. I sat by myself in my car, trying to make sense of what I felt, what I'd experienced. I came to convocation, not knowing what to expect, anxious about what I might experience in the church, but being here, I think.

I get it.

I feel Daddy Grace's presence, his light, and his love in the church, in the city, in the hurricane itself. One of my favorite quotes from Daddy Grace is when he says I.

Came from the land beyond the sea. I understand that quote. I could have said that quote myself.

Now, having finally set foot inside and seeing his church for myself, experiencing the music and once again tasting the food, I felt much closer to Daddy Grace, even more connected, if not by blood, then most definitely by spirit. But I couldn't help to still feel conflicted, still not understanding the disdain my family had for this man. I believe Daddy Grace was driven to serve and spread God's word. That was his mission, and I felt that in Charlotte, But not everyone feels the same way. That's next time. Sweet Daddy Grace is a production of iHeart Podcasts and Force, a Media group. This show is hosted by Me Marcy Depina. It's written and produced by Marissa Brown and Me. Our story editors are Darryl Stewart, Duncan Riedel, and Zarren Burnett. Editing, sound design and theme music by Jonathan Washington. Original music by Enrique Silva of Acasia Mayor. Show cover art by Viviana Salgado of Studio Creative Group. Fact checking by Austin Thompson. Our executive producers are Marcy Depina and Jason English. Special thanks to Will Pearson, Nikki Ettore, Ali Perry, Tamika Campbell, and Lulu Phillip of iHeartMedia and all of my family members who talked to me for this show, my ancestors, the United House of Prayer for All People, and the countless number of people who shared their memories of Sweet Daddy Grace with me. Thanks also to doctor Marie Dollam and doctor Danielle brun Sigler, whose academic work on Sweet Daddy Grace has been incredibly helpful. And finally, I want to thank Bishop Grace himself for choosing me to tell his story. For more information on Bishop Charles M. Grace, check out the website Sweet Daddy Grace and follow me at Marcy Depina on all social platforms

Sweet Daddy Grace

Bishop Charles Manuel “Sweet Daddy” Grace was once one of the richest Black men in America. But not  
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