For Real

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So sneer, ye of little faith; Russell's real

By Steve Blow

Published 03-03-1991


I don't know what the statute of limitations is on skepticism, but it seems time to declare that Russell Hobbs is for real. It finally seems clear that the former bad boy of Deep Ellum really is a bona-fide, Bible-quoting, born-again Christian.

 Albeit an unusual one.

 "I'm just a fool,' he said. "I was a fool for the world, and now I'm a fool for Jesus.' It is surely the city's most unusual and highly visible religious conversion. And the story took another turn recently when Russell proclaimed his Christian nightclub, The Prophet, to now be a full-fledged church.

Albeit an unusual one.

"The Church in Deep Ellum,' says a new sign painted across the front of the building at 2713 Commerce. Once it was known as simply The Prophet Bar, and it was party central in Deep Ellum's re-birth as the free-wheeling Bohemian corner of the city. Russell Hobbs was a kind of counter-culture star -- an artistic entrepreneur with long, tangled hair and a determination to live without rules. "When I moved to Deep Ellum in '84, it was to live an alternative lifestyle, to seek the truth, to see what life was all about,' he said. And he found his answer in a most unexpected way. 

`King' felt empty' 

They called me "The King of Deep Ellum,' but I knew inside that I wasn't the king of anything. I was empty inside.'

And then one day, out of the blue, the janitor in his bar invited him to church. "He had been sweeping up the beer bottles and praying for me for nine months.' Russell followed him to a place that could hardly be called a church by Dallas standards. It was an apartment in Oak Cliff, where 13 people were gathered. "They loved me, and I felt the presence of God there. They told me that Jesus loves me, that he died for me and that I could live forever. I got on my knees, man, and I surrendered. I just fell in love with Jesus that day.'

But Russell's old cohorts back in Deep Ellum weren't too thrilled with this transformation. Many seemed to feel personally betrayed. They sneered, and Russell Hobbs became "Hustle Robs' among those in the know. Many said it was all just a big joke, a business ploy, a way for Russell to dodge his creditors. One newspaper story began, "Russell Hobbs walks through the valley of the shadow of debt.'

But three years have passed, and Russell's fervor appears to have only grown.

Now it all fits "It's like you're working a jigsaw puzzle all your life and suddenly the last piece fits into place with a click. It was Jesus! But you never thought it was going to be Jesus because you hear about him all the time in America,' he said.

"But Satan and greedy men have hidden the beauty of Christ from the world. People think he's a weak dead guy on a cross. He's strong. "And you know what's a real problem? People aren't interested in God because they think Heaven is going to be like church.' He grimaced. "Who wants to go sit in church for the rest of their life? "It's not like that, man. Jesus is calling people to a kingdom of rejoicing and love.'

Russell is determined that The Church in Deep Ellum will reflect a Christianity of love and liberty, not rules and rituals. And he figures there could be no better place for such a church. "Deep Ellum is full of seekers,' he said. "See, basically, Deep Ellum is full of Catholics and Baptists on drugs. Traditional religion hasn't fulfilled them.'

So now Russell is trying to reach them, and it seems an understatement when he says, "God is doing a totally non-traditional thing here.' There is Bible study on Thursday nights. Rock 'n' roll worship parties spilling out onto the sidewalk on Friday and Saturday nights. And a service for the homeless on Sunday afternoons. A sign inside The Prophet/Church in Deep Ellum proclaims, "You are standing on Holy Ground. This place is a miracle performed by God's mighty hand! What was once the first bar in the new Deep Ellum, filled with death, is now a church for the 1990s.'