Earlier this summer, my father, Jonathan and my stepmam Marylyn came to visit me in nowrk New Jersey. They were coming to spend some quality time with me and my son, but their timing couldn't have been better. I had news to share, so I sat them down at my kitchen table. All right, So I'm so excited to be able to talk to you guys. Because anyway, so I was sitting there.
Two days earlier, I had gottenn email on ancestry dot com from someone saying he was a distant cousin and that he has something to tell me our family and Daddy Grace's family. So I asked him, Hey, you know, nice to hear from you. I see we have some matches in common. Do you know something that I don't know? This cousin his name is Dennis. He lives in California. He'd heard I've been trying to find out if Daddy Grace and I were actually related. So he started telling
me certain ancestors I should look at. He said, let's start with your matches to the days you matched Stephen Day and Patria Day. So I began following the line back, trying to figure out who he was leading me to. Now I had never even heard of the Days, But as I look up the tree, I see my great grandmother Isilina, the mother of my papa. She was born in Bravakabovia but came over to America in nineteen twenty a young mother with two small children. She passed on
before I was born, so I never met her. But really I don't know much about my family beyond my papa's generation. Like my great grandmother Isilina, they were no longer alive by the time I arrived. And he says, I wonder why we didn't match it. I'm like, what is he talking about? So I do a search to figure out what this guy is talking about. Tatta, I now have the answer.
But here's the thing.
See, there was someone else connected to the Days, someone also very important to me, someone I've been searching for. Someone my newfound cousin, Dennis wanted me to see. So with my parents sitting there, I finally hear the news I've been looking for for years. So essentially, Daddy Grace would have been your grandmother's cousin. So her father and Daddy Grace's father were first cousins.
Wow, that is crazy.
Wow, Wow, that's right. I felt it all along. Daddy Grace and I we're family. I'm Marcy Depina and from iHeart Podcasts and Force the media group.
This is sweet.
Daddy Grace, We're glad.
We're being happy, Power, You're glad at.
Last last roll until.
Happen Crown and I cried, We're.
Go.
Before we talk more about this revelation, let's back up to early January nineteen sixty. The year rang in a feeling of change. There was a sense that something big was happening. Cameroon had just become an independent nation, and sixteen more African countries would follow. Later that year, JFK
had announced he was running for president. Two hundred and fifty Black residents of Greenville, South Carolina, peacefully protested the segregation of the town's airport and yes, you better believe there was and still is, a house of prayer in Greenville and Motown's first hit record, Barrett Strong's money That's what I Want, was just about to enter the Billboard
one hundred, changing the sound of pop music forever. Though he was almost eighty years old, Daddy Grace seemed to be at the height of his power, he still traveled frequently, still preached. He was still very much a leader of a thriving church. There's a letter he wrote to his congregation, dated January eighth, nineteen sixty, from Los Angeles. He did this kind of thing, often, sending missives to his followers from wherever he was in the world, checking in on them,
making sure that they were on the right path. He writes, as my time on the West Coast is far spent. I must leave. I am expecting to leave Los Angeles, California, early Tuesday morning, January twelfth. Be ready because I am still flying. This is my sixth week here and I must go on to another kingdom. He then reminds his congregation that God is there to guide them and signs the letter much love to all Daddy. The letter is like many he wrote, but the date January eighth, nineteen
sixty is significant. Later that day, while at home Los Angeles, Daddy Grace suffered a major heart attack. He refused medical attention, but finally, as he lay in a semicoma, elders from the church took him to the Metropolitan Hospital. So when I read that letter, now I have to wonder did he know what was about to happen. He told his congregation he planned to leave Los Angeles in a few days time on January twelfth, to go to another kingdom.
He kept that promise because in the early hours of January twelfth, nineteen sixty, Daddy Grace took his very last breath, and he did make one final voyage east. A few days later, Daddy Grace's body left Los Angeles. It was raining as the train pulled out of the station, which followers took as a sign it often rained during convocations, but Daddy Grace had said that water was a blessing. In his native kabovid Rien is always celebrated as a blessing.
Six separate viewings were planned all on the East Coast in house of prayer strongholds like Charlotte, Washington, d C. Nork, and of course, New Bedford. The procession was covered in newspapers like the Boston Globe and the Charlotte Observer, as well as in a six page spread in Ebony. Men in fresh pressed white shirts stood guard around the bronze coffin,
reported to cost twenty thousand dollars. Thousands of people both the religious and the curious black and white came to view the body and pay their respects.
My father would not have been happy if he knew that that wrote it had taken me. I didn't say a word.
I thought Judy was one of those people. She was a nursing student in Connecticut in nineteen sixty, but happened to be back in Massachusetts at the same time the funeral was happening in New Bedford. Her whole life, she'd heard so much about this man, all the whispers, all
the criticism, and now here he was. My great aunt Rhoda, always an adventurous type, told Aunt Judy they were making a stop at the House of Prayer for the public viewing, and they weren't going to tell their family they were going.
There was quite a procession, and then there was music, and there was a smell of food, and.
They were curious, so they entered the church with the rest of the crowd to see Daddy Grace his body in repose.
I can see him now, and his body was under a really sick glass, and he had like a green suit that looked like it was cut away, you know, the tails, and had braided piping around the edges of the lapel and so forth, and his hair was down to his shoulder lengths.
But what she remembered most still to this day were his hands.
It looked very uncomfortable and didn't look like normally you see the hands folded, but they were just on his thighs, and he had long nails, and they loaves were painted gold. It was just seemed like, you know, this is not appropriate, this isn't very reverent.
I was actually quite shocked when my Aunt Judy told me the story. I know my grandfather would not have approved, and it was surprising to hear that my beloved Aunt Rhoda insisted that they go. I wondered why from everything I had heard my Papa, Aunt Roda's brother seemed to be so against Daddy Grace, his church and the influence on other family members, And of course that lingering story of how this self described boyfriend of the world tried to learn my nana his wife to join his congregation.
So what motivated Aunt Rhoda to pay her respects to a man the family had tried so hard to distance themselves from. The idea of it all got my head spinning. The years after Daddy Grace's death were not easy ones for the United House of Prayer. It was reported that Bishop Grace's estate was worth between sixteen and twenty five million dollars when he died. Many people assumed that this
was an exaggeration, but it's hard to know. Up until Daddy Grace's death, the House of Prayer didn't file regular annual tax returns. That's common for registered religious organizations in the US, but for the IRS, it certainly made it very difficult to understand the House of Prayer's finances, as well as the economic relationship between Daddy Grace and his church.
The church's real estate holdings were also complicated. Daddy Grace liked to exaggerate how much he paid for things when it suited him, and his bookkeeping was, shall we say, confusing. He and the church had a bunch of different lawyers and tax advisors, but not one person knew everything. The IRS was clearly not a fan of Daddy Grace's complicated business structures. They were certain he hadn't paid enough taxes.
They didn't believe he was running a legitimate church. They had been after Daddy Grace since the nineteen thirties, and a month after he passed away, the IRS sued his estate for almost six million dollars. It was a big enough lawsuit that it made the Washington Post as well as into the discussion in a US House of Representative subcommittee. Perhaps my dad's assessment of Daddy Grace being like Donald Trump was not too far off. And on the religious front,
things were complicated too. Though there was a detailed package of church by laws, there wasn't a clear succession plan. Soon after Daddy Grace's death, elders from the church voted on a new leader, Walter McCullough, who joined the House of Prayer as a young man and once had been Daddy Grace's chauffeur. The vote, however, was instantly challenged other people wanted to lead the church and argued their case.
Bishop McCullough was eventually voted back in, but those years were chaotic, and the IRIS drama tied up funds and limited the new bishop's ability to travel and make moves, and as happens in many families, most contentious was Daddy Grace's will, which had been written in nineteen forty eight and not updated since he divided. Around seventy thousand dollars among twelve of his family members, some siblings, nieces, and two children. The rest went to the church. As you
might imagine, many people weren't happy about this. His first wife, Jeanie, and daughter Irene sued Daddy Grace's estate. They eventually settled for a reported two hundred thousand dollars each. His son Marcellino also sued, but his case, for one reason or another, was dismissed. Some members of his family even signed a publishing contract, perhaps hoping to capitalize on Daddy Grace's story. But as far as I know, the book never came out,
and despite all the turmoil, the church persisted. From a spiritual perspective, the church claimed that the spirit of Daddy Grace jumped into the body of the new bishop, now called Daddy McCullough, and this ordained him to lead with the same power and authority. The foundational bylaws that Daddy Grace established were the blueprint for the doctrine and business of the church. Although these were rocky times, the house
that Daddy built stood firm. When Daddy Grace died, a lot of things were left unanswered for his congregation, his family, the public, and the Cape Verdian community, A lot of things were unanswered for me too. Now I had proof that we were related through my father's great grandfather, Jose and Cararasan de Grasa Gonzelsh. Stick with me, but here it goes. Jose and Daddy Grace's father were first cousins.
Simply put, if you trace down through the generations, Daddy Grace is my second cousin, three times removed on the Depina side of my family. My father didn't even know his great grandfather Jose, but he did know Jose's daughter, his grandmother Iselina, She was also Daddy Grace's second cousin. All of these family members lived within walking distance of each other on the island of Brava, which at the time in the late eighteen hundreds had a population of
around eight thousand people. But if Isilena knew Daddy Grace was family, she kept it to herself. As far as I know, she never told anyone.
But why the more we share, or that you're sharing with us about our ancestry and connection to SDG makes me come to the realization that the Penis were fairly secretive and that there are some deep, deep secrets within the family.
That's my dad again.
I was talking to him and my stepmom trying to understand why we had only just learned about this connection.
How again with Isilina not know? I mean, again, the place is only this big.
I mean, the only thing I can come up with is that they just didn't want to admit that they were related to them. That's the only thing that I can come up with, because some of the family members clearly felt like this church was wacky and they didn't want anything to do with it. You know, cap Verdian's are our reputation is everything, so it's like right.
And at that time, I could imagine that, you know, between the work situation, trying to raise a family to stay employed, you didn't want to mess with that. You were already a foreigner and a foreigner of color. You don't want to bring any of that to you, you know.
And we also have to remember that we're part of a time when everybody reveals everything about themselves, and there's just all this where even my own parents and certainly my grandparents U they just they kept things to themselves. But that was with us social mores and it's just deliberately not putting everything out there the way we do now in terms of identity and personal problems, and so the fact that Somethina never talked about it doesn't mean that she didn't know.
I think my dad and stepmom are right. My family must have known about this connection, but they didn't want to publicly admit it. I was glad to have that confirmation that there was a blood relation, and I still wanted to learn more about the man himself. I couldn't believe he was actually so terrible, just a little eccentric. With so many people that loved him, he couldn't be that bad. But who knows, Maybe I was wrong. The problem was I was having a really hard time finding
anyone who actually knew him personally. Daddy Grace died in nineteen sixty, so at this point many of the people who knew him have already passed away, and those who were still around, like his grandson who was a pastor of a different church, or my cousin who was one of Daddy Grace's maids when she was a young girl, didn't want to be interviewed. I tried the connections I made at the United House of Prayer, but they have a very strict media policy, and because of that, no
one would speak to me on the record. I'd almost given up hope, but finally I found them.
My name is Marilyn Gonsiles. You have a nickname, Yes, it's Footfe.
Yes, I heard you had a nickname Fuffy? Who calls you Fuffy?
Everybody?
Can I call you f fee?
Yes?
You may.
I love that. The Cape Verdian nicknames. I have one too, Yeah, my father's TOOKIESA.
I love that.
So first, if you could just tell me what is your relation to Daddy Grace.
I'm his great niece. My grandmother and Daddy Grace they were brother and sisters.
Fuffy is eighty years old, but she looks much younger. She still lives in New Bedford, the city she grew up in, in the historic home that Daddy Grace purchased for her grandmother, Sylvia. She's elegant and gracious, and the moment I stepped into her house, she offered me some coffee and Langresa rolls. When she was a little girl, she'd seen a lot of Daddy Grace. She'd seen him preach,
eaten meals with him. Her grandmother, Sylvia, was Daddy Grace's right hand traveling with him frequently, preparing his meals and assisting in the spiritual leadership of the church bands and kitchens. What are some memories that you might have of him.
Well as a young child growing up, I remember Daddy Grace coming to New Bedford quite frequently, and he bought this beautiful oh home on County Street, beautiful mansion. It was a huge place. I used to enjoy going there, just to go around the grounds, the gazebo, and he had a pony. And I remember my mother and my aunt Marie, they were the cooks when he came home, and I would help them set the table for Daddy Grace and he would always have company come and sit with him to eat.
Daddy Grace seemed to be constantly on the move, traveling around the country visiting his congregations, but New Bedford always held a special place in his heart, especially during Convocation season, the church's annual celebration July.
It would be the start of Convocation and a lot of people would come from the South and he'd have services at the House of Prayer and it was always open seven days a week. Had to go to church. I used to go to church every night with my grandmother and I always enjoyed the services, you know, the music and his preaching, and he was very charismatic. Really, the services that the House of Prayer were really invigorating a lot of the young people that lived in the neighborhood.
They would be outside dancing while the music was playing, you know, in the House of Prayer, and the numbers were shouting and having a good time.
I want to talk to you a little bit about Daddy Grace as a religious person. Can you tell me a little bit about his faith?
Well, he was very religious and when he preached, he would quote from the Bible without looking at it, and he was a good preacher. He enjoyed his services because he was interesting and he would explain everything that was in the Bible to you so you could understand it. He loved people, he really did, and he just, I don't know, like a magnet. They loved him, you know, and he would go to different homes and pray for them.
But what I really wanted to know from Fuffey, what was Daddy Grace like beyond his public persona Who was he to his family? So I have to ask you this because I'm curious, did Daddy Grace have a Cape Verdian nickname.
No, not that I know. Well, his name was Charles Emmanuel Grace, but you know, my Grahama called him Charlie.
Oh see, I didn't know that. That's interesting. And what did you call him dad?
Dad?
Yeah, you know, the family, we all called him dad.
But Fuffy pointed out that this name dad Daddy was controversial even within the New Bedford Cape Verdian community.
They said, why why do people have to call him daddy Grace, He's not your father. He was criticized mainly by his own people. Cape Verdian people. A lot of them didn't believe in him. They didn't believe what he was doing was right, and at times, you know, and people made fun of him way he dressed as long hair as nails. There were people in the family that didn't want to be recognized that they were related to him.
But you know, I love the way he dressed. I loved his suits they were beautiful, and his big top hats.
That's one of the things that I love the most about him was that he seemed unapologetic. He seemed to just be himself. He was and you know, growing up in a Cape Verdian community.
I know how harsh Cape Verdians can be.
And all it takes is one time for people to say something about you and it sticks with you for the rest of your life exactly.
And I know how you know tough that can be.
So I always wondered how he may have felt about having that criticism from his own people.
That must have been difficult for him.
He felt bad about that. He says, my own people don't treat me right. Why And it was said, I know. I had to be hurting for him, but he just kept plugging and a lung and just built the churches everywhere. It was all the church people.
Though I was hoping Fuffy might be able to tell me about his friends or some hidden pastime Daddy Grace had, I wasn't totally surprised to hear this. He had a strained relationship with much of his family. His two marriages had ended in divorce, and he was partially estranged from his two children the family. He had strong relationships with people like Fuffy's grandmother, his sister Sylvia. They were all members of the church. He was good to those relatives.
He purchased a large building in New Bedford for his family to run businesses out of He bought homes for his parents, his nieces and nephews, his siblings, or would support them financially, but his focus and his life was the church. I just had one final question for Fuffy. Is there anything that you would like the world to know about Daddy Grace that maybe people don't know about?
Well? I would appreciate it if people would really respect who he was and respect what he did. He didn't do it for himself, and just wish that they would remember him as a generous, kind person and religious man, which he was, and not criticize what he did or make fun of what he did. I just want him to be remembered as a decent human being, which he was.
Right before I finished up this episode, I was able to speak to another one of Daddy Grace's great nieces, Marlene Tavars. Marlene is ninety years old now and has spent much of her life working in New Bedford as a housing activist, something she says she got from Daddy Grace, who also worked to make sure his congregation had affordable homes. Welcome me into her home in the housing development she helped build in nineteen seventy four, and immediately we felt
like family. I met her only daughter and her great grandson. We spent time looking over family photos and her collection of articles, documents, and books about her family, including Daddy Grace. Her grandfather, Caesar is the same Caesar Grace that lived right across from my great grandfather, Nola Locke. He had helped Daddy Grace build the very first House of Prayer in West Wareham. Marlene grew up in the House of Prayer and had a special connection with her great uncle.
I loved him. I think of him as my grandfather. I've renumber one morning, early in the morning, he got up, came to the apartment and made me breakfast, made hot chocolate and everything. And usually people who would make him breakfast instead he made alice.
It's amazing.
Yes, you'd never think of Daddy Grace like that, right, because you know, everybody always says, oh, he has all these people attending to him.
Yeah, that's so beautiful.
Yes, make it hot chocolate.
Yeah it must have been sweet.
Yes.
But Marlene remembers seeing the stories about him and the press, the lies, the exaggerations, not at all reflective of the man that she knew.
And I used to say, oh, man, I know, but I know, I wish I could get out there and straighten it out and everything.
That must been frustrating. But he never really corrected the stories either. It seems like he just said, forget it, I'm not gonna Yeah, he just let them.
Yeah. Yeah, he never did. He used to know that a lot of the stories were not true, that he just would love him. Yeah, he said the work out, Yeah it did.
So he had a lot of faith.
Yes.
In my conversations with Fuffy and Marlene, one thing that stood out to me was that they both talked about how generous Daddy Grace was, which is important because I don't think he gets enough credit for that. Yes, his focus was on making sure his congregation was taken care of, but in addition to the church and helping his family,
he contributed to other things he cared about. For example, in nineteen forty seven, Kaboved experienced a terrible drought, one of the worst on record, but Daddy Grace during that year raised collections to send money back there. I'm certain that without that aid, many more people would have died during one of the worst famines of the century. He also regularly sent bedones or barrels that are stopped to supplies back to cableverd.
Hear a new veford at the waterfront. He have a ship and he would go and r and buy stuff and full that ship up to center. The old country always to death, and he needs to go down the waterfront and make sure that everything got on the boat and make sure and then wave it goodbye.
Yeah.
I never forgot his people.
Never.
That's the kind of information that's been lost amid the talks of his riches and flamboyant. That's the kind of information that falls to the wayside when people would rather sensationalize all the things about Daddy Grace that caused a stir. It's the kind of information that gets omitted from history when people villainize him as a cult leader and reduce
him to an opportunist. I wish Daddy Grace would have talked more to the press about the charitable deeds that he and his church had done, because in some ways, Daddy Grace's own silence gave space for rumors to grow. I think I understand why Daddy Grace didn't give many interviews. He'd seen too many times how his words and actions were twisted by the press, but this secrecy is also
part of his legacy. It's part of what makes him an enigma, which has made it that much harder to uncover the truth and to find people who could talk about the kind of man he actually was, like his great nieces Fuffy and Marlene. I mentioned this to my cousin Jonathan, the one who first told me the story about Nolo Locke threatening Daddy Grace with the acts. Well, I have to say that in doing this podcast, a
lot of people didn't want to talk to me. A lot of people that it were either in the church, some of our family members didn't want to talk. They'll talk, but they don't want to be recorded. They don't want to be identified. It's no wonder why with all of the controversy around Daddy Grace and him being in the papers all the time and it not ever being positive. No wonder why nobody wanted to be associated, especially knowing
how conservative Cape Verdians can be. Daddy Grace to me, he reminds me of a couple of people, but he reminds me a lot of Muhammad Alley. Oh really, because he had these singers and he would say things like, apparently he used to brush his hair, and he would tell people that if you.
Bought the palm made that they sold in the story.
That your hair would be long and pretty like his. And he never shunned away from being called wealthy. He never shunned it from being called successful. He didn't hide it. He was like, yes, I am great. And that makes me think of Muhammad Ali because everybody said he was cocky and all this other stuff. People didn't like him for this right because they didn't like his mouth. But he stepped into his greatness and he wasn't afraid of it, and he was I don't care who knows, I am
going to say that I'm the greatest. And he made himself the greatest, did He Sure did? And I think Daddy Grace was the same exact way. I think he made himself great.
You know what?
That makes me think of my mother always saying don't say I can't do this or I can't do that. She's like, you can do these things, and don't just burn yourself by cut yourself short. You should be speaking these great things in existence for yourself.
Mm hm.
Words have power, she said, speak it into existence.
Words do have power. This is one of the mantras in my life. Power to transform a poor immigrant from Kabuvid into a millionaire. But words also have the power to start rumors or to be withheld, to keep secrets. I figured my dad would have some perspective on this as well. So, you know, one of the things that's come up is, you know, why did I want to make this podcast and why I wanted to understand the
connection between our family and Daddy Grace. And the main reason why was because of the stories that I heard as a kid, like this story that was always swirling around this mysterious figure that tried to take Nana on the road with him, you know. And so you know, there's definitely a connection. But to me, it matters less if we're actually related to him or not, Like it's less of it's not really about that for me.
And yes, that's right, it's.
It's about sharing his legacy. I mean, obviously a very very important person to the Cape Ritian community, regardless of what people may think. Let's face it, a person of color in the early twentieth century doing what he did and to be that successful and ultimately help many, many, many many people deserves exactly what you were doing.
I think so too.
That's why it's important to me because there's so much controversy around him, and because so many Cape Verdians really were embarrassed by him, and the church is so closed and afraid us talking about things that I feel like, if I don't talk about this, his story is going
to get lost completely. And the other thing too, that like really has come up for me a lot throughout making this is the idea of family history and how the elders didn't talk about a lot of stuff like I never heard anybody really talk about really where they came from or who their people were or and then if they didn't pass on those stories to you, then how would you be able to pass them on to me?
And so this idea, especially when slavery's involved and where people's origin stories are, you know, completely obscured because of history, Like it's so easy to lose your history. I just get the feeling that there was like a lot of things that maybe were painful, like maybe they left painful situations like asking Papa, do you want to go back to Copvid and be like no, absolutely not.
Did he ever talk to you about what it was like for him as a little.
Kid, Yeah, but not that much. Really, he saw nowhere to go, nowhere to go. He was able to escape and really didn't look back, didn't look back at all.
This podcast has been way more difficult than I ever thought. I thought this was going to be easy. I was like, I already know everything there is to know. I have family stories, I have this story. I grew up right around the corner from the hospital. I know all there was to know.
I really did.
I thought it was gonna be easy, and it's actually been emotional. So it's been hard to delve into the memories, but it's also been really.
Great to do.
So what do you think it would have been like if Nana would have went with Daddy Grace, Like, because it sounds like, I don't know, it sounds like she might have gone.
Well, I think that's right. I think that there was you know, there was some definite interest in going, and her father was new way you were not going. But let's face it, I mean, here was a young woman who was raising a family, cooking him, washing clothes and doing all this stuff. That would have been a nice thing for her to.
Do with some rich man.
Yeah, right, fancy guard.
Yeah right, So yeah, I can see how a young woman would think that that's fun, like, yeah, let's go do this, but a very naive young woman also, So I definitely went on. I understand my grandfather's concerned because if it was you and I had to make that decision, I would make the same decision.
Chase Staddy Grace sound with an axe, because that's what they.
Said happened, right, So.
You know, I get it.
I get what my dad was saying, because if I'm being honest, there has always been something weighing on me the entire time that I've been making this podcast.
My papa.
He died when I was eight years old, but I still look to him for guidance. He had to tested Daddy Grace. He thought he was an embarrassment to Cape Verdian's and to his family. And so even though I didn't agree with him about Daddy Grace, I was worried about having his approval. I was hoping my dad might have some insight. You know, here I am highlighting the story of this man. What if he wasn't a good person, What if he was a bad person?
What if?
And then I thought about Papa and how much he means to me, and would he have been upset with me that I'm making this you know podcast? And I was like, oh, I would never want to disappoint him or do something.
Right being the man that he was about being honest and truthful, and he would support the idea of seeking the truth.
I hope so, because that's the goal, right, I'm not trying to prop Daddy Grace up to be somebody that he's not. I mean, I want to tell the story accurately but without judgment, and just present the facts and allow people to have their own, you know, understanding an opinion of him.
What do you think about me in this pod?
I think it's fantastic to take on the challenge of a man who wasn't very well documented and to find what kind of person he actually was and tell the story is.
Honorable.
So that's what I think.
Thanks Dad, Thank you, I love you.
The other folks, you can fash by goodbye, but you can't fash by the House of prep for all people and then get into heaven.
On January seventh, nineteen sixty, the day before his heart attack, Daddy Grease recorded a live sermon on record. Technically It was called you Must be Born Again, but most people call it the Last Sermon. It was played as his eulogy in New Bedford.
Church.
Officials said no one but Daddy Grace should speak at his own funeral. He has a light Keith verdie In accent. It reminds me of my papa's voice and a lot of the old timers in the family.
We want to speak a little more, a little more language. Wag him up, ay man.
When we all get said, we don't full of one another?
Do it because we brothers and sisters. We don't work hard. We're a little bit together. Stretch because you put yours here, I put mine here.
I still have so many questions for Daddy Grace, like what he thought about the keep verdie In community's rejection of him, how he felt about his life and his purpose and reconciling being a human being and a man with a spiritual mission, if he was happy about how things turned out, if he might have done things differently, what he thinks about how the church carried on with things, and more importantly, what he might think about me and me doing this podcast and telling his story, and how
he felt about my immediate family, my Nana, my Papa, my Nola Locke. I might not ever get those answers because Daddy Grace didn't write a memoir, He never gave personal interviews, his family never did end up publishing any books about him and his church, the United House of Prayer for All People. It's pretty closed off to anyone who isn't a member. Except for this sermon. We don't have much of Daddy Grace's voice.
You got little how's the prayer?
Bick empower alta albapri kick start all up for gaver.
Oh, we'll have genre. But my little bet, your little bet.
But I do hope now that in my own way, I've given Daddy Grace a way to tell his story. Sweet Daddy Grace is a production of iHeart Podcasts and Force and 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, Additional editing by Matt Russell. 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 talk 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