Before the Queen of Soul, there was the voice.

Reverend Clarence LaVaughn Franklin did not merely preach…he thundered, making pulpits quake and pews weep in Black Detroit.

Long before any cameras arrived, he was both a spiritual giant and a political force to be reckoned with.

Born in the Jim Crow South on sharecropper land, C. L. Franklin brought with him to Detroit the
kind of southern cadence of Black gospel, the fire of prophetic scripture, and the conviction that God did not endorse injustice.

When he came to New Bethel Baptist Church in 1946, he was already a preaching sensation – but Detroit is where he became not just a religious figure, but a cultural and civil rights icon.

Considered “the Father of Sound”, his sermons were recorded and sold nationwide, his altar calls heard over the radio in living rooms all across America.

They named him The Million Dollar Voice.

And when you heard it – you knew why.

Franklin did not merely preach prosperity.

He preached power – black power, people power, and the divine right to dignity in a nation still shaken from its original sin.

His sermons, “The Eagle Stirreth Her Nest” and “Dry Bones in the Valley,” were more than just Sunday fare.

They were declarations of war against apathy, fear, and silence.

He told black people survival was sacred.

That resilience was celebrated.

And that God was always with the oppressed.

With him, New Bethel grew beyond a church.

It was the nerve center of the Civil Rights Movement – a place where Martin Luther King Jr. visited, marches were planned, and spirits strengthened against northern indifference.

Franklin was not just a civil rights icon.

He also raised a daughter – one that would go from singing in the New Bethel choir to one of the biggest stars the world has ever seen:

Aretha Franklin.

Suddenly, the civil rights movement had its soundtrack – and it was all thanks to C.L. Franklin’s influence.

He took her out on tour as a child prodigy.

He gave her the very first piano she ever played.

And as her voice shook the world, you could still hear her father’s pulpit ringing in every note.

A violent home invasion in 1979 resulted in C. L. Franklin falling into a coma after being shot in the head twice at point-blank range.

He died five years later in 1984.

Just like that, Detroit lost its favorite pastor, with preachers, politicians, musicians, and everyday folk who had grown up on C.L. Franklin’s sermons packing into his funeral at New Bethel to honor him.

In short: Franklin was more than a preacher.

He was a storm – the holy soundtrack of a new generation coming out of the ashes of slavery and segregation with dignity and his fists clenched but ready.

He made God’s word sound like thunder and comfort all at once, and he gave the people of Detroit -a city built on labor, scoured by rebellion, and softened by music – what no other politician could: an unforgettable voice, not to mention a daughter that would go on to become a music legend.

Victoria Jackson (Editor In Chief)

Victoria Jackson is a lifelong student and sharp-eyed documentarian of all things Detroit, from its rich musical roots and cultural icons to its shifting neighborhoods, storied architecture, and underground legends. With her finger firmly on the pulse of both the city’s vibrant past and its rapidly unfolding future, she brings a deeply personal, historically grounded lens to every piece she writes.

Published on: August 18, 2025