hands image created by me, using mine and my girlfriend 
Beyond Rejection
-by Jonathan Caleb Williams
I Have Made Myself, A Good Friend
I am lucky to have fallen into such a treasure in this world, and fall is precisely, what I did. Over the past few years of my life, I have dealt with much hardship. A great deal of this was self-induced by my own anger and ignorance. I am thankful for the lessons that I have learned.
Through strife, we can find great opportunity for introspection and positive change. It is pain that brought forth the groans from my spirit that taught me to sing, and that singing has brought me great joy. It is failure that has taught me to write, and that writing has brought me definition and passion. It is the will to survive that has given me drive, and that drive and determination, with the right mindset, gives me purpose. But, what purpose?
I have watched the onslaught of the evil in this world upon the good people in it. I have seen the dark, the suffering, the lost, and the alone. The majority of the last seven years, I have spent on the streets, owning nothing but the clothes on my back and a guitar. I have made many friends, and lost many friends. I have watched society spit on the untapped potential in the world. I have watched them spit on the golden hearts of the meek and laugh in ignorance.
I wrote a song, a few years ago, while I was walking down HWY 101, on the west coast, trying to get a ride. These are the lyrics:
“...Pavement, killin’ my knees,
The cigarette between my fingers,
Makin’ me wheeze,
Wastin’ all my time, starin’ at trees,
Takin’ my time, takin’ my time,
Scrapin’ off flees... Yea… yea…
Gutters drainin’ music to the beat of my feet,
Cars sailin’ by but I’m unseen by the fleet,
They see my dirty hands and they don’t wanna’ greet,
‘Cause I’m the typ’a mutha’ fucka’ that they,
Don’t wanna meet… yea…. Yea….”
I was at a much different place in life. It’s jarring to look back there. I was so weary then. So, why am I so full of hope, now? I have seen those that have little, give much. I have seen those who have no reason to hope, spread hope and joy to everyone around them. I have seen a smile on the face of a man who has lost everything. Now, I want to give back.
I don’t have much. I just have a few words, but if those are the only tools that I have, then I’m gonna’ break the handles off of them. My new friend, is not a man of many words, though he is very intelligent and has plenty of them. He is a humble man, living a life of modesty, and he is also driven. I was very lucky to have gotten an interview with him, as he stopped doing interviews twenty years ago. This gentle-natured man, has been giving everything of himself for years, working miracles in the community out of his small, old antique shop and asking for nothing in return. He is a man with a big story. Much bigger, than I was initially aware.
I had been interested in writing something about him and his mission for quite some time. It had been pressing on my heart, each time that we had driven through the small, coastal town, of Gold Beach, Oregon. I dropped in, unexpectedly and met with him the afternoon of the 12th of December, 2019. I did not know too much about the place. In fact, if this man had not given me a leather coat when I was cold, three long and arduous years ago, I would never have known that the place existed. I went with the hopes of giving something back to someone who truly deserves it. What I was met with there, gave me the affirmation that I needed. I, now, realize that my meeting with him, was possibly that of the universe's immaculate timing.
I approached the old, run-down antique shop from the parking lot, at the park across the street. It is a red and cream-colored building, surrounded by all kinds of odd and miscellaneous items. The structure, was once the Gold Beach, public library. It has a flat roof, which was an architectural mistake that the builders clearly, overlooked. On the Oregon coast, the climate is rather agreeable during the winter. It very rarely snows and cold temperatures are usually extremely mild. What it does do, during the winter, is rain. It rains, and then it rains some more. For a building with a flat roof, rain, in layman’s terms, is ‘not good.’ A weathered, black and yellow flag, harboring the word, “ANTIQUES,” sits on the corner at the street. A small, glass, front door, displays about fifteen signs, all reading different things. One says, "Come in!" Another says, "I'm Here In The Office, Call..." (with the necessary numbers to call).
I slowly walked up to the building and tested the door, to see if it was open. It was, so, I let myself in. As I passed by the cupboards full of emergency blankets, sleeping bags, food and other assorted resources that the owner gives away to the homeless, I could hear my friend's, soft voice, answering the questions of a patron, who was asking about the price of some antique plates. As I rounded the corner, my heart stopped as my eyes were struck with a sight that gave foundation to my reasons for coming to his humble, little store.
Sitting there, in a small wooden chair, was my friend, the owner. He was humbly dressed, as he always is, with a beanie atop his head. He answered the questions of the patron, as the customer reviewed the selection of antique plates. In front of my friend, to his left and right, sat two large garbage cans, strategically placed to catch the water that was leaking through the deteriorating roof. "Plip... Plop... Plip... Plop..." said the buckets, as my friend continued to answer the questions of his customer. My arrival, startled him a little, as did my questions about having an interview. He seemed worn-down and if I am not mistaken, I felt some sadness and a real need for hope.
Of all people that deserve to have hope, I believe it should be given to someone who has been giving it out, for their entire life. When first asked about doing an interview, he seemed in shock, but what I learned next was much more than I had ever expected.
My friend pulled out an aged, 1987 copy of a People Weekly magazine article that contained many references to himself and his mission. It was a rather lengthy article, written about a day in the life of a person with AIDS. The title, of the famous article, is “Breaking America’s Heart.”
The article was written by Jack Friedman and David Van Biema and he gave it to me to read. He then led me back to the far corner of the store, past the oddly organized collection of antiques. Here, a large, hard print copy of a very old, Los Angeles, Times magazine article was displayed. It had a collection of black and white, emotionally moving photographs in it's layout. It also made reference to my friend’s life work.
He said to me, in his gentle tone, "...this will help you to understand who I am as a man, and what I have done with my life." We set the date for my interview with him for, Saturday, the 14th, at 1:00 P.M.
As I left Jim's shop, I shook his hand. I thanked him, again, for the good that he had done for me in the past. “All that I want, is to give something to good people, who give something good to more people,” I said, as I prepared to leave. He responded, with tears in his eyes, "...you have already done that, today," and he turned my handshake, into a hug.
I returned to the little, old antique shop, on the 14th of December, after reading the 1987 article and doing a little of my own research. I sat down with Jim to interview. After two hours, we took a break. My girlfriend and I went and got something to eat. We returned to the shop and continued the interview for about another hour and a half. The time that we spent together was very nice. I would define it, more, as an educational ‘hang out.’ We both talked at different points. I learned a great deal and was humbled to have gotten some time with this man. It was a highly emotional experience. It was clear that my friends heart had always been deeply invested in all of those that he has worked with.
There were no interruptions, with the exception of a very nice woman coming in to ask for the keys to the church. Jim stood and pulled them out of his back pocket. We were introduced. Her story is also one that I would like to learn more about. Her parents were from China and her father gave up everything to send them to the United States. Her mother worked simple jobs her whole life to put her two children through private school California. She speaks fluent Chinese, English and German and has lived an intensely interesting life. On her way out the door she turned and spoke to me, again. In a soft tone, with a light Chinese accent and a big smile on her face, she said, “...Very nice to meet you Jonathan. Things are looking up. Just keep doing the best you can and the Lord will bless you.”
The Seeds of Benevolence
image from collectorsweekly.com
Jim’s grandfather was a miner. He mined zinc and lead in the time of the Great Depression. The story of his parents, reminds me of a song, by Bon Jovi, titled, ‘Livin’ On A Prayer.’ There is another, much older American folk song, that was closely tied to the life of Jim’s father. The song was accredited to, J.A. Roff, in 1882. It was a piece of sheet music titled, “The Great Rock Island Route.” This folk song was nicknamed the, “Wabash Cannonball.”
One of the primary theories about the meaning of the “Wabash Cannonball” is that it originated in ‘hobo’ lore. ‘Hoboes,’ at that time were not just homeless people. There were a collection of men, that would ride the trains to find work so that they could support their families, during the struggle of the Great Depression. The “Wabash Cannonball” was said to be about a mythical train, a ‘death carriage,’ that would give the men a ride to the afterlife when they died.
The lyrics of the chorus written in “Wabash Cannonball” and all derivations thereafter came from this original work. Here are the chorus’ stanzas:
“...Now listen to the jingle, the rumble, and the roar,
As she dashes thro’ the woodland, and speeds along the shore,
See the mighty rushing engine, hear her mighty bell ring out,
As they speed along in safety, on the “Great Rock-Island Route...”
Eventually, the correlation between this song and the railroad became so popular, that the ‘Wabash Railroad’ that ran between St. Louis and Detroit actually renamed, itself, as the ‘Wabash Cannonball,’ in 1949. It held this name until 1971, when it became known as, Amtrak.
Jim’s father was one of these, ‘hoboes.’ His parents had converted a chicken coop into their home. Coming from this kind of adversity, his mother and grandmother always tried to help the world around them. When Jim was young he remembers his mother and grandmother teaching him to make soap, in small cardboard milk containers, using lye. They would knit sweaters and make clothing and blankets. When they were finished, they would take all of the things that they had made and go out into the communities, finding those who needed the items most. They gave to those in the worst situations, even though theirs was also one of similar adversity.
At the age of fifteen, Jim’s life had changed, with the rising economy. During our interview, he spoke about a moment that has stayed with him
through the years, and was a turning point in his life. The moment, of which he spoke, was a snapshot in time taken from a trip that he had made, at fifteen, to the Skid Row, Bazaar of Los Angeles, California. He had seen an elderly, homeless woman, haggardly stumbling down the street.
“I thought to myself,” he said as he paused to collect himself, “what if that had been my grandmother?”
Later in the interview, he redefined that moment for me.
“That boy, that was getting off the bus in Skid Row...” he said, speaking of himself, as he paused for a moment. A look of dissent spread across his face. He continued, “...that boy, was a selfish, self-serving boy, who had gone to Skid Row, in Southern California, to spend his lawn mowing money buying expensive Mexican food and trinkets from the Bazaar market.”
Benevolence Blossoms: The AIDS Crisis
That moment, along with the benevolence of his mother and grandmother, ignited something in Jim, forever changing his life. As the years went on, that small flame began to burn more and more brightly. He founded, ‘Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc.,’ in 1986, during the AIDS crisis in Los Angeles, California. The same creed, that was written with the inception of Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc., is still displayed on the door of the small antique shop.
It reads:
“...This Building is home and Oregon office to Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc. An outreach for the physically, mentally, and spiritually homeless.”
People were terrified of the AIDS virus. The public was ignorant of AIDS causes and how it could be contracted. This, along with the stigma brought by anti-gay activists, caused many people who had contracted AIDS to be thrown out of their own homes, and left to die in the streets. The famous article, published in People Weekly magazine, “Breaking America’s Heart,” visits 24 hours in the life of someone who had contracted AIDS. It is an extremely moving piece of literature with many real and personal interviews with “PWA’s” (Person With AIDS). It gives many raw, non-fictional accounts of the hardships suffered. The literary monument makes many mentions of Jim and ‘Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc.’ Through this article I learned that Jim was very, involved in this crisis. Jim, frequently speaks of the importance of having no favorites. It was paramount, in his philosophy, to treat each PWA (Person With Aids) to the best of his ability. This may have been true, but there was definitely a deep connection between him and a PWA named, Frank. It was clear, that the loss of, Frank, hurt Jim deeply, but even with Frank’s passing, he pressed on.
There were ten ‘Providence Houses’ in L.A. that harbored “PWA’s” (Person With Aids) and only two of those houses were non-profit. Jim’s was one of them. He was directly effected by the tragic, AIDS crisis, in more ways than just the loss of his close friend, Frank. He did his best to help those who were dying to be at peace, as well as giving them a place to stay. He gave a piece of his heart to every one of those in his care. He helped them to be at peace, he grieved with them, and he suffered with them. When they could no longer walk, he was their legs. When they could no longer keep themselves clean and had become incontinent, he gave them their dignity.
A House Divided, Cannot Stand
Before my interview with Jim, I had done some of my own research, into the past. I found an article by a man named, Jack Castiglione. The article was also lengthy and was a part of a smear campaign, run against Jim during the AIDS crisis. It painted Jim, as an anti-gay, sick man. The article by Castiglione, went to extreme lengths, singling out Jim and trying to get funding cut off to his non-profit organization. He even went as far as to call the famous People Weekly article a, “rehearsed scam.”
At first, I was taken back as I read the article. It was powerfully written and Castiglione was very talented.
The ‘kicking-the-hornets-nest’ campaign eventually resulted in a loss of funding from some of Beyond Rejection’s contributors. However, the same questions kept re-appearing in my mind. If Jim hated homosexuals, then why would he have spent every waking moment serving them? Why would he care so much for people, if he hated them? Why would Castiglione have singled Jim out, particularly? I decided to go on with the interview and investigate.
When I asked Jim about Jack Castiglione, he smiled. He said, “…Jack and I had a personal relationship. For a long time, I did not even realize the effects that Jack’s writing was having on the outreach.” He pressed on, “…I wish that we could have just sat down and talked about our difference, as friends.”
“I hope that, one day, that happens for you,” I responded.
With a soft smile on his face he said, “My door is always open.” Jim, said that he prays for Jack every day. When I asked him about the effects of losing some of Beyond Rejection’s funding, he told me, “…where we lost funding, there were always more contributors that saw and believed in the mission. God, has always provided a way for good.”
Still, Beyond Rejection
Today, Jim’s ministry still stands, although it is much smaller and has moved up to Gold Beach, Oregon, on the Pacific coast. He lives a very modest life and is an unseen pinnacle in the Gold Beach community, although, most would never know this. His humility is genuine. During our interview, he told me that, “ninety eight percent of the people that know me, do not even know about the People Weekly article.”
The services offered by Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc., today, are still running. They help to clothe the homeless and needy, as well as giving them blankets, sleeping bags, and tents. They help those who have tents get a spot at the local RV parks, when they accept them, so that they won't get arrested for camping on the streets. They provide bus passes, and when they have the funds, gas vouchers. This helps to allow transportation for those in need, so that they can commute to locations that have more resources.
They work with the churches and food banks in the area to bring food to those that are hungry. They help people that have mental health issues by referring them to the mental health agencies there. For those that cannot afford the medication that they need, they outsource and reference them to the right place, as well as helping with the cost of their medications.
While we were talking, Jim had me pull out one of the sleeping bags that they give to the homeless. With a smile on his face, Jim spoke, “…this sleeping bag is so condensed, that you can take it outside, attach it to the fire hydrant at the street, and spray water through it!”
These sleeping bags cost about $25 dollars each and are given freely to those who need them, keeping those without shelter from freezing when it’s cold:
Where Does The Money Come From, Now?
Today, all of the funding is by personal donation. The ministries are by the people, for the people. In the beginning of the interview, Jim asked me about the audience of this article. He asked this, because he didn’t want me to go out, trying to score government grants or get federal funding.
Later he explained, “I had a federal grant once, and it was stressful. In a federally funded outreach, if a person in need comes in and needs a blanket, you have to mark down how many times that you gave that person a blanket. Let’s say that person has gotten five blankets, I have to mark that down. It’s run like a regular job, people clock in, and people clock out. The reason why I don’t like this, is because, if it is storming and it is 9:00 at night, and a person is cold and wet and needs a tent and a sleeping bag, they can come to my office and I can help them, no questions asked.”
Hope, Beyond Rejection
What are the future plans of Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc.? When I asked Jim if he had any hopes or desires for the future, he explained, that he wanted to build a workshop. The workshop, idealistically, would offer to help those that are trying to come off the streets to get a little work history by building things like birdhouses that Jim and the community would help them to sell for a little money in the local shops.
“So many of the people out here on the streets are SO creative. They have great ideas, they just need a little help getting back onto their feet and unlocking their potential,” said my friend, Jim.
After the participants had built their creations, Beyond Rejection Ministries and the Gold Beach community members involved, would pose as references for the workers when they tried to find other work, later. The participants would be able to make a little money when their work sold, as well. If it was possible, Beyond Rejection Ministries would like to open a congregate housing facility, in which between three to five of those without shelter, could be housed and be a part of the workshop.
I told Jim, “I personally, having been an addict in the past, know how important it is to stay busy. For me, about sixty percent of staying clean has been keeping busy, and keeping busy doing things that I know are good.” He stopped for a moment, before speaking again.
“Without being able to pass an inspection,” he said as he looked up at the water, dripping from the ceiling, “I won’t be able to accomplish all of the goals we have.” “It’s tragic,” he continued, “so many buildings on the Oregon coast that were built with flat roofs, are falling apart.” He proceeded to tell me, “The leaks you see here, in the front, are not too bad, they move around, here and there, but the leaks in my workshop are much worse. There is no way that I can set it up for use back there. I plan to downsize the antique shop and move the workshop up front, where most of the antiques are.”
When he spoke about his future desires, I could still see the fire of hope, burning, behind his weathered eyes. We finished up our interview, as it was getting late and the sun had already set. He shook my hand and gave me a couple of good, spiritual books. Earlier, when he had mentioned that he didn’t have any gas vouchers, he had asked me if we had enough gas to make it home. I hadn’t told him, but we were out of gas. Just as I turned to walk out the door, my friend Jim stopped me. He already had a ten and a five dollar bill, hidden in the palm of his hand.
“Will this get you home?” he asked me, with tears in his eyes.
I accepted his gift with another hug, with tears in both our eyes now. “Thank you, so much for everything,” I said.
“You are so very welcome,” he said, “keep in touch.”
“I will.”
Contact Beyond Rejection Ministries, Inc.
If you would like to contact Jim’s ministry, or want to help them to achieve the goals they have, you can do so, by these methods:
Snail Mail: P.O. Box 1601, Gold Beach, Oregon 975444, United States.
Email: [email protected]
-Article by Jonathan Caleb Williams
Note: I would like to thank my now, good friend, Jim Johnson for doing this interview with me. His humility almost prevented him from agreeing to exposure, but I assured him that his story will be presented to a good community, and that is what steem is! A bunch of entrepeneurs, many of whom have the same types of aspirations! I also want to thank 
