o get back to my story: I traveled
by train to Parkersburg with Mr. Bennett, and stayed overnight at his home.
On the way from the depot to his house, I rode on my first street car.
The next morning I enrolled at the business college. They sent me to the
R. A. Wyatt residence for a room, at 521 Ann St.. I lived there until I left
Parkersburg for Elkins, W. Va. on March 10, 1926. I worked the last eight
months before I left town, for the State Road Commission, in the old city
building on Fifth Street.
It was during the last ten days in Parkersburg that I met someone who was
to influence the rest of my life. It was Sunday, Feb. 29th, I was bored,
with nothing to do. I knew a family named Ireland who lived on Seventh St.
and had several stringed instruments. I was there, playing the guitar, when
a neighbor girl came in to ask if the daughter could go roller skating with
her, (It was the only time she had ever been in their house!) I was introduced
to the girl, who appeared to be about 15 years old. She was very beautiful,
and in spite of her apparent age, I was immediately interested in her. The
interest must have been mutual, because she stayed on while I played a few
tunes on the guitar.
Someone suggested that we go car riding, and I was paired with the new girl.
I brought her coat from the back room, and was helping her on with it. I
put my arms around her from the back, and kissed her on the cheek. Her quick
reaction was to slap me soundly!
This made me even more interested. She kept me at arm's length in the car,
but agreed to let me come to her house to see her that evening. I was there
every night for the next ten days, and before I left town, we were really
interested in each other. Incidentally, she was actually eighteen and a senior
in high school when we met. Her name was Elizabeth Thrash.
I had a temporary job at Elkins, W. Va. in a restaurant, and worked there
until about April 20th, when a bookkeeping position opened at the Kendall
Lumber Co. mill office. The address was Cheat Haven, Pa. R. F. D. While there,
I boarded with a Pennsylvania German family named Spacht, I attended church
and Sunday school at two nearby country churches, where I met a girl named
Helen Bowers. She would later marry James Smith. After a chance meeting 29
years later, Helen and Jim became our good friends.
We were to try to comfort her at Jim's death in 1974, and in October, 1979
at the passing of her son, James, Jr. of cancer at age 49. (We learned at
Christmas time in 1991 that Helen had died in May of that year. E. T. B.)
Elizabeth and I were to be married that fall, but kept setting the date ahead.
When I visited her on May 30th, we finally determined on July 4th for our
wedding. The intoxicated boss at the mill quarreled with me, and I resigned
just four days before I was to marry. I left Morgantown, W. Va. on July third
arriving in Parkersburg at 9 p.m. The next day was the 150th Anniversary
of the Declaration of Independence of our country.
Our wedding was scheduled for 2 p.m., but the minister was late, and it was
nearer three o'clock. The minister at First Methodist Church was on vacation,
so we settled for the Rev. J. L. West, pastor of Stephenson M. E. Church,
South. 'Best Man' who stood beside me was Holly C. Newell, a friend from
a small dance band I played in. Maid of Honor was Cosie Whipkey, from Elizabeth,
W. Va., the town where my bride had lived before moving to Parkersburg. Elizabeth
had graduated from Parkersburg High School on the 28th day of May before
our wedding.
That evening we baby-sat for Elizabeth's older brother, Gotthart, and his
wife Edna, with their baby daughter, Juanita, while they went to the movies.
We then spent the night with them. The next day was a legal holiday, and
we walked out to the City Park to see the fireworks display. I was supposed
to report for work as a waiter at Colebank's Restaurant in Elkins on Wednesday,
so we left at 9:10 p.m. on the B. & O. Passenger train for Junior, changing
trains at Grafton. The tracks of the valley route were where the Grafton
Dam now covers them at several feet deep. Heavy rains upstream had made high
water in the Tygarts Valley River, and it was beautiful and impressive to
watch the water from the train window.
We arrived in Junior at 6:05 a.m. and walked to my dad's home. I was so proud
of my beautiful wife, and introduced her to everyone on the street. She said
later that she knew I was related to everybody in town, from the introductions.
The next day we went to my Uncle Frank Knaggs' in Elkins, found a room at
the Goley residence, 315 Randolph Ave. After paying our room rent, we had
just nine pennies left in the world. We still have those pennies!
On my 20th birthday, I had an argument with the proprietor where I worked,
and left my job there. We took the train that same night for Parkersburg.
I tried to find work in an office, but had to settle for a job polishing
Parker Pen bases at the Vitrolite Co., an opaque glass manufacturing plant,
at Vienna, W. Va. After three months riding the interurban cars at 28 cents
a day, we decided to move to Vienna. (That 28 cents was a big to us at that
time as was the road toll of around $3.00 Grandson Drew paid to get to his
position in Orlando from Titusville, some 60 years later. Added by E. T B.
Jan. 1992)
This move proved to be a part of my destiny also. We first had rooms at a
Mrs. Ayers, then moved to Mrs. Amelia Wilson's, on Williams Ave. Here our
son, Granville Marion was born, on May 24th, 1927, at 6:40 a.m.
****************************
The Holy Spirit just wouldn't let me alone!
My mother lived one of the most beautiful Christian lives I have ever known.
Dad's unbelief was certainly in no way caused by a lack of holy example on
her part. Left alone with only her children for companionship much of the
seven years she lived in the Rich Mountain home, and denied the help of the
family of God in the church, she had to rely on her own spiritual resources.
I never saw her really angry, and my father often said the same of her. Brought
up by a sincere Christian father and a somewhat pharisaical mother, she was
completely honest in her faith, She lived in a period of strong denominational
rivalries, but didn't believe in passing one church to attend another. We
respected this belief even at her death, holding her funeral in the Junior
United Brethren Church, a block from our house, even though she was a member
of the Methodist Episcopal congregation.
My father's people were all members of the Church of the Brethren (Dunkards,
they were called, from their practice of baptism by 'Trine Immersion,'--three
times under the water, face foremost.) Grandma Brady seldom attended church,
having to cook for a houseful of boarders. However, her kindness and compassion
toward the unfortunate marked her as a godly person. She took two orphan Italian
boys into her home when their parents died, raising them to manhood, and
helped to raise three of her grandchildren, after having nine of her own
family.
Mother taught us to pray at a very early age, and was often with her Bible,
in spite of her health, and the care of five children. Her daily life was
a holy inspiration.
One Sunday when I was about twelve years old just as I was going into the
Methodist Church, I looked at the pastor in the pulpit, and an almost audible
voice spoke to me and said 'That will be your life's work."
Later, although deeply grieved by my mother's death, the spiritual implications
of that event did not weigh on my mind. In my 16th year, a teen-age girl
singer was featured in a revival at the Methodist Church. She was very beautiful,
and when she came back to invite the young men personally, very few of us
could resist her. I went forward and knelt at the altar rail for a long time.
Nobody gave me any instructions or counseled with me.
After a while, two women who had known my mother well, knelt beside me and
said, "Son, you are all right. Get up now. Your mother raised you right and
you are a good boy." How little they knew of my transgressions and feelings
of guilt. Such ignorant persons should never be allowed to instruct anyone
on his knees, trying to find forgiveness and peace! I tried to live perfectly
for a week, and failed miserably. If that was the Christian life, it was
not for me! I felt occasional brief stirrings of the Spirit, but they did
not mean much to me.
When my young wife and I were approached about joining the United Brethren
Church at Vienna, the pastor, the Rev. Harry Miller, counseled with us. My
companion had been converted as a child and I told the pastor I had "gone
to the altar" at sixteen. We were received into the church on Easter Sunday,
1927. Personally I was ignorant of what it all meant, but vividly recalled
the voice I had heard at the age of twelve. I told the minister of this,
and was duly licensed as a Quarterly Conference minister in June after we
had joined the Church.
****************************
In September of that year, we were persuaded by a relative to move with them
to Akron, Ohio. Being deeply convicted of my hypocrisy, I felt relieved to
escape my obligations at the Vienna Church. Discouraged at failing to find
adequate work, and ill from poor working conditions at a factory, I went
back to my father's home in Mabie, W. Va. in late October. My little family
stayed in Akron with her folks, who had moved there in the meantime. I worked
with my dad and brother, making crossties for a lumber railroad.
Our income, in those early depression years, was at a bare subsistence level.
In March, 1928 I started to hitch-hike back to Parkersburg. I became ill
when I stopped at my cousin Carl Brady's home, and was in bed for a week.
When I left, he gave me one of the last two dollars he had.
In Parkersburg, I was able to get work at the Baldwin Tool Works for a short
time before I was rehired at my old job at the Vitrolite Co., with a promotion
and a raise. My family was reunited, and a little later, we began payments
on a little home about four blocks from the church to which we belonged.
We were able to get day care for our infant son, and Elizabeth went to work
at the Viscose Co., a new rayon fibre plant in South Parkersburg. Our destiny
was shaping up again, even though we didn't go to church then. I was still
a doubting and rebellious person as far as religion was concerned.
Reverting to my old life, I began playing with a small dance band in road
houses. In bad company, and subject to all kinds of temptations, loss of
sleep, etc., I lived a very careless life for the next two years. I can recall
cursing the Rev. Harry Miller when the church bell awakened me on Sunday
mornings after I had been out very late the night before. Our home life was
far from happy, and a divorce seemed imminent for us. Once, when Pastor Miller
remonstrated with me about my road house dance band activity, I said "If
you are going to be that narrow-minded you can take your old church and go
to hell with it!"
(To the readers - I want to relate to you a story Mother Brady told me when I lived with them.
During the times mentioned above, as Pop Troy was living a hapless lifestyle,
he would often drink a lot, coming home rather inebriated. He also smoked
heavily. Mother Brady finally put her foot down and told him that if he ever
came home drunk again, she would pack it up and leave him. Well, he got it
in himself one day to pull a prank on her. Just before arriving home, he
gargled some vinegar and splashed some on his shirt. He came in the door,
staggering and talking like he was smashed. Mother didn't say a word. She
walked into the bedroom and began packing her bags. She wasn't kidding about
leaving! She said it took Pop Troy about two hours, begging and pleading,
to convince her that he truly had not been drinking and not to leave him!
The joke was almost on him! RmB )
Concerned church members called on us to no avail. One deeply Christian brother,
T. R. Hudson, brought milk to our door from his home dairy each morning.
One day, as I reached for the bottle, he said, 'Brady, it hurts me to see
you outside the church!" There were tears in his eyes as he said it. I was
deeply convicted by his words, and felt that he truly cared for me.
My cousin, Stark A. Shomo, had moved to Vienna in the meantime, and had joined
the Baptist Church. He had been my best friend through high school, and was
concerned about the way I was living. His church was having a revival in
March, 1930. On Saturday, March 28th, he came to our house to ask me to sing
with a quartet that night. I consented if I could get away in time to play
for a dance that night at a hall in downtown Parkersburg. The hall had earned
the nickname "Blood and Thunder." The church service didn't mean much to
me, but my wife, who had gone along, renewed her covenant with God. My cousin
hadn't given up. The next day he came to ask me to practice and sing again
that night. I cannot recall the name of the visiting evangelist from Marietta,
Ohio. However, it seemed to me that someone must have told him all about
me.
His sermon described me exactly! At it's close, Stark laid his hand on my
shoulder and said, "How about it, Brady?" I went down from the choir loft,
took the preacher's hand and said "Whatever it takes to find God, I'm going
to do it." I never was more sincere.
Walking home from church, I had to go by Pastor Miller's house. As I came
near, words that I had long ago read in the Bible came to me: "If thou bringest
thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught
against thee, go first and be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and
offer thy gift." I knew that I could not pass that house! The interurban
tracks seemed knee-high as I slowly made my way across them and up to the
door of the Vienna U. B. Parsonage.
The night was cold, with flakes of snow blowing in a stiff breeze. I rang
the doorbell, and Harry Miller came to the door. Then I hesitated in a kind
of daze. Harry said, "Come on in, Brady. You're freezing us." I remarked
about the snow, and then said "I didn't come here to talk about the weather."
Harry said, "Yes, I know."
After greeting me, his wife excused herself, seemingly to go to bed. Harry
and I talked and prayed until about three o'clock in the morning. He gave
me the counsel I needed, and I finally said, "It's just a little clearer
to me now." Mrs. Miller came back into the room, fully dressed. She had spent
the almost five hours in prayer for me! Harry said "The revival is over at
the Baptist Church. Why don't you go home and pray about this, and come to
prayer meeting Wednesday and tell us how you feel?"
I started home in the dim light of the moon showing through the clouds. About
a block away, I met the devil. He said, "You are not going to be silly enough
to tell your wife about this, are you? You'll be out with the boys at the
Wildwood Inn, playing for the dance tonight" My reply was quickly given,
"Let me alone, Devil! I'll not only tell my wife, but I'll tell everybody
I meet!" Suddenly all that I had ever heard about joy came to me. I 30 was
just gloriously saved! I felt that I could reach down and touch the tops
of the houses with my toes! I recall my hand on the doorknob, and then awakening
"Betty" and my sister Blossom, who was staying with us, keeping our son and
doing the cooking while we both worked. We didn't bother to go to bed but
just stayed up and rejoiced the rest of the night!
I was afraid the people at the office (I had been promoted from the factory)
would give me a hard time because of my decision. I went to the office about
seven o'clock, to pray for help until the others came at 8:30 a.m. As I prayed
with bowed head at my desk, there was suddenly a bright light, with the sense
of a Presence, just across the desk to my right. I was afraid to look directly at the light, and tried to tell myself
it wasn't real. Then I went behind the desk to the window, to see if the
sun was shining. It was a dull, cloudy morning. I sat down at my desk, over-whelmed.
Suddenly a voice spoke, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the
world." The light and the Presence went away.
Incidentally, the office crowd never did give me a difficult time in my new-found life.
On Wednesday we went to prayer service. Vienna Church had a great midweek
service, with an average of over 100 attending. A time of witnessing was
always a part of the hour. When I finally found courage to stand, I could
do nothing but weep and smile.
Many gathered around me, shaking my hand and embracing me. I found that night
that more than 30 people had my name on their prayer lists. No wonder I couldn't
sleep at night! Often I would come home from a dance, and read the Bible
my wife had hopefully given me for an anniversary present. I was trying to
find a way to peace without going by the 'Way of the Cross.' I would usually
end up in tears.
During that summer, I often failed in my Christian life, but always came
back to a renewed effort. In November, the church was in a revival. One night
my wife stayed home with Marion and I attended services alone. When I returned,
I said "Something is wrong with me. Everybody else is having such a good
time at church, and I am miserable!"
Betty said, "Troy, I know what is wrong with you. God wants you to preach and you are not willing to answer the call"
I asked "Betty, if I entered the ministry would you go with me?"
"Of course I would! Didn't I promise when I married you that I would always go where you went?" she replied.
In that moment, full surrender came. The flood tides of joy overwhelmed me!
The Holy Spirit took control of my life then and there! The way seemed plain
ahead, and I received the gift of prophecy. That gift is not one for foretelling
the future, but for 'telling forth' the message of God. The word comes from
the Greek term 'Prophetos,' which means to speak out God's message. This
experience was my receiving the fullness of the Holy Spirit. This doesn't
mean that I couldn't sin, or fail in my daily life. I often did. But it did
mean that I couldn't do it and escape being miserable for it!
I was elected Class Leader for the church, which meant that I was responsible
to lead the mid-week service each Wednesday night. This helped me to "grow
in grace and the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." My license to preach,
which had been granted to an unconverted sinner three years before, was renewed.
I began to think of how I would prepare and train to be a minister. Robert
Evans, who was licensed at the same June 1927 Quarterly Conference in which
I was given mine, was graduating from Seminary in May, 1931. I had to work,
but Betty went to Dayton, Ohio with Pastor Miller for Bob's graduation.
She returned with the news that President Harris had encouraged us to come
on to school in September, regardless of our lack of finances.
I gave notice of my intention to leave my work at the Vitrolite Co. The Superintendent,
J. P. Lindsey, of that plant, advised me not to take the poorest churches
when I graduated, but to demand more money. (He was a Roman Catholic) As
it turned out, I actually did take the poorest charge in the W. Va. Conference
upon graduating in 1934.
The W. Va. Annual Conference, United Brethren in Christ Church, meeting that
year at Salem, W. Va., voted to grant my Annual Conference license to preach,
and I received my certificate on September 6th, 1931. The service was in
the chapel at Salem College. What a memorable day for me!
Pastor Miller had gone to conference earlier in the week, and I was left
to conduct the mid-week service. Still testing my call to preach, I went
early to the church, and spent the time on my knees, praying for proof, as
a kind of "Gideon's fleece." I asked that if my call was real, that we have
two conversions in the prayer service. (It was not unusual to have just one.)
After a seemingly ordinary service, one young woman came forward. Her seat
companion stood back, weeping. I went back to speak to her, and she came
forward without my saying a word to her. God had given me the proof my doubting
soul needed.
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The Brady Trilogy I Reclaimed Memories - (1991) I Pop Troy's Anthology - ( 1992) I Kinfolk - (1994)
