n Sunday evening, September 13th,
1931, we drove out of Vienna in a 1919 Model T Ford Car we had purchased
for $25. We were on our way to Dayton. We stopped overnight at Sedalia, Ohio,
where we stayed with Aunt Amanda and Uncle John V. Tenney. They were wealthy
farmers who had left W. Va. about the turn of the century.
Aunt Amanda was Betty's mother's sister. We left after lunch on Monday, drove
in to the back circle at the Seminary dormitory, and unloaded our trunk and
suitcases. We were to stay at the school, and I had work as a night watchman
at the Dayton Malleable Iron Co., working three nights a week from 11 p.m.
to 7 a.m. My companion did washing and ironing for single men students to
help with expenses. Since we could use the same textbooks, and tuition was
only $100.00 extra for my wife, both of us enrolled in classes. Our son,
Marion, just past four, was left asleep, his breakfast on the desk, and upon
awakening played with other children in the dormitory until classes were
out at 12:30 p.m.
I can recall one time when we were completely out of money, and began to
pray together for help. The next morning a letter came from our home church,
with the funds we needed. "My God shall supply all your needs," the word
of God promises!
At the end of the first year's sessions, we found ourselves uncomfortably
in debt. We decided to literally "camp out" for the summer. We borrowed a
tent and a large canvas fly, and were allowed to set it up on Harvey Comer's
farm, about five miles southeast of Dayton, off Germantown Road.
Young people from Olivet Church which we attended, would come out in the
evenings and bring food, and share with us at picnic meals. Some seminary
students also came out, and one friend, David Lloyd Ringland, spent several
nights with us, sleeping in his car, His sister and brother-in-law, the Ed
Griffith family, were good friends and student pastors at Antioch Church,
some ten miles northwest, on the Wolf Creek Pike.
Soon after my conversion, I read a book called "The Victory of Mary Christopher"
which revealed the joys of sharing one-tenth of one's income with God, for
his work. We committed ourselves to do this, and were faithful tithers. I
did not work at the night watchman's job in the summer. Our only income was
from being a "branch manager" for the Dayton Daily News. I was to receive
$7.00 per week if I collected all that was coming from the carrier boys.
For two weeks I collected only enough to allow me $2.50. I reasoned that
God wouldn't expect me to give Him 25 cents of this, so for two weeks I wasn't
a tither. Thursday night of the second week, Betty said "We have two small
cantaloupes and a half dozen ears of sweet corn left to eat. It will last
until noon tomorrow." I went up the creek, knelt down beside a log, and promised
God that if He would supply our need I would never again fail to pay the
tithe. For the first time, someone on the hill above me began to play an
old reed organ. The tune was "Jesus Savior, Pilot Me." I literally ran down
the creek bank to the tent, rejoicing!
We ate our food the next day, and I drove to work in the afternoon. On that
day, I collected more from the carriers than I had ever received.
On the way home, as I drove by the house of the lay leader at our church,
a Mr. Elliott, was setting by the curb, a market basket full of groceries
by his side. He stopped me and said, "Last night about eight o'clock, I was
praying, and the Lord told me to give you these." Eight o'clock was the time
I was praying down by that log!
When school began, we arranged to stay in the basement of the home of the
Palmer family, the Sunday School superintendent at our church. This was not
very satisfactory, since the basement was cold and damp, so we moved out
after Christmas, to a small two-room shell of a house on the back lot of
a Christianson family. Our heat was from a small oil cook stove, and we were
often cold at night. In the spring, a young mother from our church died.
Her husband, Roy Weatherly, needed someone to cook for him and care for his
son, who was our boy's age. We moved into his comfortable home until after
our graduation from Seminary.
We both did well in school, receiving two of the highest grade averages in
our class. A earful of folks from our church in Vienna came over for our
commencement. Pastor Miller, Frieda Newlon, my sister Blossom, Betty's sister
Ruby, and her brother Ted came.
They had fun having their pictures taken in our academic robes. They brought
a nice gift from our Vienna Congregation. (Some cash and "Pastor's Life Record"
book E.T.B.)
Remembering our pleasant camping experience in the summer of 1932, we decided
to do it again after graduation. I built a small camping trailer of plywood,
and we parked it along the bank of Wolf Creek, on the farm of Mr. Seybold
near Antioch Church, where our friends the Griffiths had been pastor. That
summer I worked full time at the night watching job, taking the place of
a student who had gone home after commencement. It was a very dry but pleasant
summer. My wife's niece, Lonald Belt, spent some time with us.
Our seminary experience was during the heart of the Great Depression, in
the years 1931-34. This made God's provision for us all the more a miracle.
We had given our Model T to John Mills, my wife's brother-in-law, and bought
a 1929 Model A. We drove this car back to W. Va. and attended Annual Conference
sessions at the Weekley Memorial Church in Charleston, W. Va., where I was
ordained on September 6th, 1934. I was assigned to the Cairo Circuit, 58
miles around to all churches, at a salary of $340 for the year.
The stationing committee had a rough time finding a pastor that Huntington
First Church would accept, finally sending our old pastor, Harry Miller there.
we sang until late afternoon, waiting for them to agree. One old song I will
never forget was repeated over and over:
"O how sweet it will be, in that beautiful Land,
So free from all sorrow and pain;
With songs on our lips and with harps in our hands,
To greet one another again."
A Mrs. Neece, from Terra Alta, rejoiced with long and loud shouting, as she
walked the aisles. One old pastor, when I told him I was assigned to the
Cairo Circuit, said, 'They'll starve you to death out there. They'll starve
you to death." Dr. F. H. Capehart was our Superintendent. He and his wife
were our personal friends.
The day after conference, which was Monday, they took us out to see our new
home. The parsonage was only partly finished, and had not been lived in for
four years. One church had held a "pie social" in it, and some exuberant
soul had thrown pies at the walls and ceiling. Wallpaper hung in great ribbons
from the walls. Betty walked into the kitchen, sat down on an old bench and
wept. "I don't believe the Lord would expect us to live in a dump like this!"
she cried. Mrs. Capehart berated her husband for sending us there. (We found
out later that a man in Dayton, Ohio, who didn't like my plain preaching,
lied about me, saying I was a "holy roller." He told the Bishop of that area,
who passed the word on to Bishop Batdorf. He in turn said that I should have
the poorest circuit in the conference. He had ordained me the day before
we saw the old parsonage!)
Dr. Capehart said to his wife, "Now, mama, we'll find some way." One of the
trustees, a Mrs. McKeown, owned a house nearby which was empty, and she let
us live there until the parsonage was remodeled and repaired. It was after
Thanksgiving, 1934, when we finally moved into a partially completed home.
The men of the churches, who were working part time for the WPA, a relief
work force spawned by the Great Depression, gathered on off days to work
on the parsonage. The unfinished top floor was sawed off and the roof lowered.
The central hallway and old stairwell were widened into a living room, with
a small bedroom on either side. A breakfast room and larger bedroom were
added. Men from our home church at Vienna came out one Saturday and wired
the house for electrical current, which had never been done. Our old friend,
Jim Reed, who later also entered the ministry, led the crew.
In those days, the "new" preacher was supposed to 'preach around' at each
of the churches, to give them a sample sermon. The Conference Superintendent
would then hold the Quarterly Conference, formally hire the pastor, and set
the salary for the coming year. At that meeting, a layman who wanted the
old pastor back, said, 'We don't want any little greenhorn out of the seminary
for our preacher!" In spite of that, I was hired, and the salary set for
the year, $340.00. From this sum I had to buy food and gas and oil to drive
over 12,000 miles. Fortunately, each of the churches held regular "poundings'
for
us, at which the people brought groceries, produce, canned goods and meat.
Otherwise we would have gone hungry. We were overpaid seven dollars for the
year. We were not alone in our poverty. Eighty of the around 100 families
in our churches were on WPA (government relief) jobs at 535.50 per month,
which was only $9.50 more than we were being paid.
A part of my work was to hold at least two weeks evangelistic meetings in
each church. Our first was scheduled for Big Run Church, nearest the parsonage,
Oct. 28 to Nov. 13, 1934. I spent the weeks before the meeting calling at
every home within a 5-mile radius of the church. Many of these had never
had a minister in their house.
The meetings began with an almost visual struggle with Satan! Two families
in the congregation had not spoken to each other for five years. I was led
to do some plain preaching about forgiveness and reconciliation. On Friday
night of the first week, the two women met at the altar and settled their
differences. Six young people from those two families made their decisions
for Christ the same night. My text was Matthew 5:28-29 -- the one that led
me to pastor Miller for reconciliation some four and one-half years before!
Our second meeting series began at Davisson Chapel ("Low Gap") on Nov. 18th.
It proved to be the "great awakening" for that congregation. The house was
crowded night after night, as beautiful fall weather prevailed. Results led
us to protract the meetings for five extra nights, until December 7th. There
were 78 decisions, the most in one series of services in my whole ministry.
The congregation has been spiritually alive ever since that memorable series.
At least one minister has been called from that congregation. He married
the teacher from the local school, who was converted in those meetings. She
had claimed to be an atheist, and came to hear the sermon to determine whether
I used good English before her pupils!
Poor as we were, we still wanted another child, and were delighted to find
that Elizabeth was "expecting" early in 1935. Our second child was born on
October 24, 1935, and proved to be the joy of our lives in those often discouraging
times. We named him Howard Landis Brady, for two of our favorite professors
in the seminary. We were sent back for the second year to Cairo, and received
a raise of salary to $450, and were overpaid $35.
My father's second wife deserted him, leaving him with a twelve year old
daughter, my half sister Lois. He was only 55 years old, but was almost blind
with cataracts and an eye injury. They had no place to go, so I went to Coalton,
W. Va. and brought the two of them to our house, just two weeks from the
day of Howard's birth. They stayed until March, and Dad's family and I managed
somehow to have one of Dad's eyes operated on, giving him good vision. He
was able to drive a car, and resume his work.
Dr. Capehart was determined to promote us to a better paying charge, and
in spite of the Cairo request for us to return for the third year, we were
moved to the Union circuit, near New Haven, W. Va. They promised to pay us
$850 per year, and we felt rich! I had convictions against the use of commercial
means of raising money for the church, and made the mistake of stating in
my first sermon at one church that I would not accept money raised in that
manner on my salary. The "Ladies' Aid" president sat just in front of my
wife, and she overheard these words, "Just let him whistle for his salary."
Well, whistle or not, in the three years I served that church, they never did pay my salary in full.
We had a gracious revival at old Union Church (The oldest one on W. Va. conference,
founded 1835) with 71 decisions. The services started the night we returned
home after being kept away by the 1937 Ohio River flood for two weeks. We
had gone to our home church at Vienna, for the dedication of the new educational
unit, and the flood waters came up while we were there.
Dr. Ray N. Shaffer became our superintendent while we were at Union, and
he planned to move us to the Broad St. Church in Weston, W. Va. at the Conference
of 1939. However, an older pastor was given preference, and we were moved
to the Freemansburg Charge, with the parsonage at Pricetown, four miles west
of the town of Weston. Our salary here was $900 per year. While in a good
series of meetings at Churchville, my father came to visit us, and made his
first public confession of Christ there. When that happened they told me
that I shouted aloud. I wasn't conscious of the fact that I did it!
On Sunday, May 4th, 1980, I had the joy of bringing the message at the 100th
Anniversary of the Churchville congregation. It was blessed to recall the
wonderful times we had shared together in the Lord.
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