Merl Schiffman, Memoirs, Chapter II

Merl Schiffman, Memoirs, Part II

Rev. Carl Haass, our local pastor was also part-time manager of the Conference Grounds, a summer camp grounds a mile and a half east of Dunkirk on Lake Shore road. It opened the previous year with a dining room, auditorium and a few cottages for summer conferences for Evangelical Synod churches. In 1925 it was in full swing with junior, senior, adult camps and teacher training weeks and was rented to other denominations for several weeks. Uncle George Fitzer told me to ask Haass for a job which I did and he started me as a kitchen helper. Two weeks before starting, running a table saw in shopwork at school, my partner dropped a board on the saw blade as he drew it through and it shot back and hit my arm. I thought I had broken it but it turned out to be only a bad bruise. At age 15, third year high school in the Fall, I went to work in June at $15 a week, board and room. Haass did not always have the money to pay us. When I needed cash, he gave me five or ten dollars. I ran the dishwasher, power mover, cleaned the auditorium daily and the cottages between camps. The kitchen and dining room crews, another boy and I were "staff". We worked long hours, never thinking of time or schedule until the work was done.

The missionary-in-residence was M. P. Davis from India. One of his daughters, Margaret, in later years married Walter Bloesch and later as a widow belonged to Bethel Church, Elmhurst. Also at camp were Herb Bass who became a medical missionary in India, Allen Wehrli of Eden, Alvin Keppel, later president of Catawba College, NC. Their daughter, who Mathilda had in her Sunday School in St. Louis, married Bob Moss, president of the United Church of Christ. John Baltzer, president of the Evangelical Synod came, along with other national church leaders. I was deeply impressed by the close relationship I had with these people in a relaxed and informal manner, By August I expressed an interest in becoming a missionary, even a medical missionary. I felt no special "Call" or sudden motivation. The work they did interested me and I wanted to work with and for people in the same way.

Carl Haass heard my comment from someone and moved fast to encourage me to to Elmhurst Academy, Elmhurst, Illinois for my third year of high school The Academy, on the same campus as the college, was once the only schooling required of students for the Seminary. It and the College were the only educational institutions of Evangelical Synod. The Academy was on its way out because college years were now required and the College was taking over the whole campus. In fact, I attended the last two years of its existence with only thirty of us as students.

Haass and I had several conferences with my folks. He promised all kinds of support. "Why go now?" "Because I might change my mind and not be interested in the ministry if I stayed at Dunkirk High to graduate".

I wrote to H. Richard Niebuhr, then the 29 year old president, who accepted me. Then got transfers, medical exams, farewells and gifts. The old trunk now upstairs was from the Sunday School, train fare came from Haass, initial fees from the Church and lots of people at the station to see me off. It was my first train trip alone, first time in a Pullman berth, upper, first time away from home for so long. Age 15 to be 16 soon, I had $85 in the bank.

I always believed that it was not necessary. Had I worked at the Conference Grounds two more summers while at Dunkirk High, I believe I still would have been interested in the ministry because of the continuing relationships. No part of the Academy was of special benefit though I was a better student because of the small classes, time on my hands and close to the professors. I finished all the requirements for graduation in the next year and a half and started college classes at 17 in senior mid-term along with two Academy electives. Was graduated "cum laude".

But I was young, miserably lonely and homesick the first three months. I remember the agony of homesickness, trying to keep it from my roommates, counting the days, numbering them on the calendar and tearing off a sheet each day. I had not planned to go home for Christmas because of the cost but somehow we scrounged $34 for the round trip coach. How happy I was to get home!

I had no really close relationships the first year. Gus Pahl, Bill Brandon and Jimmy Payne were roommates. We were four to a study and four to a bedroom down the hall. They went out for sports and Gus went home to Chicago on weekends, so I was pretty much alone. I read in the library, wrote many letters, studied. Even the Principal noticed and questioned me about by being in the Library and studying so much. My classwork showed good except German - 4. The other fellows knew the language from home, the professor was strict and I had a hard time. But, if I was poor anywhere, it was Religion. Having had little Sunday School, among many minister's sons, I was the poorest in the class.

Work was supposed to be plentiful but I had a hard time finding any until Spring. My first job was pin boy in a bowling alley on York Street. I remember the first few moments when I tried to set up the pins by hand and the manager rushed back to show me how to use the pin- machine. And jump out of the way. That wasn't much income and sometimes, though the bills were paid (by scholarship aid and by the church) I had only 10 cents in my pocket. I looked for mail with the hope there might be a dollar enclosed. (In later years, writing to the boys at college, I always made sure a bill was included.) I wasn't discouraged or homesick after returning from the first Christmas but was very lonesome.

Reinhold Niebuhr was a frequent visitor from Detroit to his brother's campus residence, bring their mother to visit. He would wander the halls of the dormitory, dropping in a room, ours included, to shoot the breeze. For young kids, he seemed to enjoy the visits and handled us well. Kirby Page, Sherwood Eddy (great pacifist leaders) W. B. DuBois, the Overstreets and many others were our weekly speakers, usually corralled by the Niebuhr name.

I returned home in early June to work at the Conference Grounds. Developing a pattern that continued through 1931, I took the train to Dunkirk, stayed overnight at home, out to the Grounds the next morning for the Summer, home the last day to sleep overnight and then leave for school.

In the Senior and last year of the Academy there were 30 students. I played football, only 19 of us on the squad. We had a full schedule with other high schools and military academies. Had one win and six losses. I was right half back (then called) and I remember being back for the punt and always hoping it would not come to me. Though I don't remember missing a catch. One game we played Morton Military Academy, and lost 60-0. We had so many injuries were down to 10 players in the fourth quarter so the opponents dropped a player also.

I took part in the Academy Dramatic Club, mostly as business manager. We had no stage at school so used St. Peter's church auditorium. Academy and College classes were in the same Old Main building, had the same professors, same library and dining room. We were housed on the third floor of Irion Hall with the Coach as our monitor. He checked us in our study at 7 PM, gave permission slips to visit the library and checked us in our bedroom at 10 PM. Weekends were free. When we left the campus we had to leave a note on our desks. In the second semester, Brandon and I asked to study and sleep in a single room. Our grades improved so much that the following year the plan was set up for all students. We had classes six mornings a week with none after 12:20 noontime.

I had more work in town that year. One job was at Schramm's garage as a car washer and gas pumper. I worked two months, received permission to go home for Christmas and when I got back he had hired a full time man in my place. From Senior year in the Academy to the end of the third year of college, I also worked part time at the school library desk.

We received $100 a semester credit on our bills for being pre- theological students and $100 a semester for a C average. Other loan funds were also available. I had to earn money for board, clothes, travel, books and pocket money. Haass gave me a raise each succeeding Summer. After many jobs in Academy, College, and during the Summer, I finished school with all bills paid and some money on hand. Though as graduation approached in 1927, I owed the school and couldn't get my diploma because of the amount due. Haass wrote that he was coming for graduation and I was afraid to tell him. When he arrived, I did so, he paid the bill and I was out of that woods.

I remember the Saturday afternoon May 22 after work, coming out of a shower and someone coming in "The Mecca" saying that Lindbergh had landed in Paris. Later in the summer on a nationwide tour, he flew low over the Conference Grounds and Dunkirk in the "Spirit of St. Louis". 1927 was also the year of the first talking movie "The Jazz Singer", Dempsey-Tunney longcount fight in Chicago, the Lindy Hop:, "Black Bottom", and "My Blue Heaven".

That Summer I got a chauffeur's license and drove the Model T Ford truck all day, picking up food, meeting trains, getting cans of milk, ice and other supplies. Also worked on the local water system which was a " Rube Goldberg" private installation. It gave us lots of trouble and long hours of work, day and night, getting water from Lake Erie. Once we had no water for two days when 150 people arrived. We worked straight through until we found the leak.

There were also pleasant times with programs, with taking the rowboat out on the Lake and often seeing the Aurora Borealis - sometimes so dazzling that we took mats out on the grass, laid on our backs and watched the fantastic shooting colors across the sky. Revenue Agents came by once in a while to ask to be guided along the path through the woods to the beach to watch for liquor runners from Canada. It was Prohibition time and boats brought burlap bags of liquor, dropped them in the shallow water with a cord and cork tied to the end of it and the local bootleggers waded out to haul in the bags. We always thought there was a "tip-off" because the Agents never saw the boats or the bootleggers. But Haass asked us to help them and we often spent half the night in the woods near the beach.

On returning to College I roomed with Grotefend, an easy going, happy-go-lucky Texan who was dismissed within three months for poor grades. I got his job carrying the college mail because I often had substituted for him. Had to have the first class free each morning. I picked up the mail at the post office, sorted it in student boxes, offices and faculty and took the outgoing mail to the post office at five in the afternoon. The job lasted about a year and a half and was the best paying one on the campus. I also worked as a bus boy in the dining room at the supper hour. Income from these jobs was applied to our school expense, never paid in cash.

Courses were interesting - Latin, Greek, History, Philosophy, Sociology - notice the heavy on "cultural" courses. Our Geometry professor Sorrick was a grand man, teaching us not be be math majors but to "think". German was tough because the class moved so fast. Biology, with Prof. DeBruine (my life long friend) was my favorite, thus stirring up consternation at home when I wondered to them whether I could change to pre-medicine? In those days, I could get in Univ. Of Illinois for a three year medical course after three years of college (and all of DeBruin's students were admitted). And St. Louis Univ. had only a two year medical course. I took pre-medical biology but again stumbled over Chemistry.

The only social life was going to the local movie on Saturday night. I had good jobs but no cash money and was at the peak of miserable acne.

That Christmas I worked in the Chicago Post Office, Austin Station, pulling a "gurney" of small packages behind the regular mailman. Also jumped a parcel post truck and carried a route for a few days after Christmas. Got 50 cents an hour, good pay in those days.

At that time Carl Sandburg lived on York Street, Elmhurst, writing "The Prairie Years" in a second story room over a garage at the rear of his house. Eugene Debs was a patient at the Lindlahr Sanitarium at Prospect and St. Charles Road, and Eugene Field lived in Elmhurst while working for the Chicago DAILY NEWS. I read all about the Sacco-Vanzetti trials in Boston, Upton Sinclair who later wrote about them came to the campus - read all of his books. Also read Sinclair Lewis, the NATION and the NEW REPUBLIC.

In 1928, returning to Dunkirk, I got my annual $3 raise, now $24 a week. Along with the trips to town for supplies, I took care of the water system, learned how to repair plumbing, electrical, the Ford Model T and to do carpentry. Haass had a different Seminary student each summer to work with me but they were not acquainted with procedures, nor always handy and often wanted an 8 hour day. They were no more than helpers. Each year we took one week off to harvest oats and thresh them. Bob Deering, an old Dunkirk schoolmate of mine lived in the farm house with his folks and divided his work between the farm and with me. This was also the year when the grape vineyard was torn out and a major building program including classrooms, cottages and dining room expansion took place requiring more maintenance.

The New York Central railroad main line ran through Dunkirk and along the south edge of the Conference grounds. Many nights we fellows and some of the dining hall crew would go up to the nearby Sheridan road wooden bridge crossing the railroad to "watch the Centuries go by". The Twentieth Century Limited, the Commodore Vanderbilt, the New England States trains ran in three and four sections each, about five minutes apart. First they all came from the west, following each other, then the westbound sections came from Buffalo-way. Down the roadbed was a mile long water trough and each steam engine picked up water as it went through at 60 miles an hour, with excess water sending up a huge wave on each side of the engine as it roared by. The engineer whistled for Grandpa Joy's old Robert Road crossing and every night we could hear the whistles. (Back in Dunkirk recently, I heard again the distant train whistles, a familiar, haunting sound).

In September, 1928, I had the college mail job, was a bus boy at the evening meal at Commons and worked at the main desk at the school library. At Christmas time worked at the Elmhurst Post Office, a grueling job starting at 6 AM and working almost to midnight. Breakfast at the "Greeks" at 5:30 AM, meals on the road and then to my room. My Christmas Eve was opening presents alone at 12 PM, including a portable typewriter from St. John's Church. To work again early Christmas morning. The day after Christmas I was called back in and carried a route for the rest of the vacation time.

I never got into Chicago much but listened, on a crystal set under my bed, with ear piece, to Guy Lombardo at the Cottage Grove, Wayne KIng at the Aragon, Coon-Sanders at the Blackhawk and Isham Jones at the Drake. Went into the Blackhawk once with Bill Brandon but walked out because we couldn't afford the menu prices.

Took more Biology courses from Dr. De Bruine, later a fine Elder in Bethel Church. Caught a cat one night in old Krainz Hall, (then dilapidated), killed an dressed it (we had to furnish our own animals) and then learned it was Mrs. Crusius's cat. She greeted me 25 years later on coming to Elmhurst with a reminder of that. I liked Sociology and History, majoring in the first and minor in the latter. Took two years of Greek to no use except that to this day I pronounce Greek words with a German accent because Prof. Hansen had a heavy accent.

I got to be business manager of the "Masque and Buskin" drama club, staging plays in the new college gym. We even did "Minna von Barnhelm" in German, arranging a special Chicago, Northwestern train to bring Chicago German clubs out to it. One Spring I got a job directing a play at Immanuel Lutheran Church, staged at Hawthorne School.

I played clarinet in the newly formed band. We got uniforms (see file). By Spring we had played a few concerts in Chicago churches and one in Orchestra Hall - a disaster - maybe 250 people. But we marched 110 strong in a Memorial Day parade in Elmhurst and then were bussed to Chicago to march down Michigan Boulevard. We only knew two Sousa marches, but by the time we finished the second, we were three blocks from where we played the first one.

I also wrote a column bi-weekly for the Elm Bark school paper but got censored over an article I wrote about a clown the President had hired for publicity agent - and quit.

In my third and final year, 1929-30, the librarian resigned just as school opened. Mrs. Breitenbach, wife of my Latin Prof., an elegant and refined lady and an ex-librarian, was asked to fill in. I was the most experienced student assistant so she asked me to take over the desk, schedule all workers, open and close each day, handle the mail, and keep a check on the front while she took care of the stacks, catalogue, etc. It was quite a job and a rewarding experience. I became acquainted with many periodicals, books, authors, the whole climate of a college library. I loved it and never forgot it.

I should mention that in the Summer of '29, before returning for my third year, I got a letter from President Lehman suggesting that I not come back to school because I was "not suited to Elmhurst College". I'd had run-ins with him over Prof. Breitenbach's grading and had refused the coach's request to give up my mail job to an athlete. Leonard Kraemer, my next door classmate and I had organized a "Liberal Club" to which we invited some liberal and radical speakers. Dean Mueller did no object, but President Lehman said it was not good for the image of the college.

Well, Haass and some Dunkirk leaders wrote some letters and Lehman changed his mind.

I roomed with a "bookworm," Bill Schweigert and by his constant presence at his desk was encourage to study more. I could do a great deal of studying at the library desk because I had to fill every vacant spot with someone or do it myself. The two silhouettes in the present kitchen I bought for 10 cents each from a German lady who came to the library. Again worked long hours in the post office at Christmastime and was offered a 6 to 8 AM job daily but couldn't take it and keep the library work.

In this year Alex Kaptuller, Dad's cousin, Grandma Schiffman's sister's son, lived and worked in Chicago and one Sunday afternoon he arrived outside the dorm on a motorcycle, asking for me. I went in to visit him at his boarding house. He was a draftsman, owning his own shop. He, in his 40's, was going with a widow who owned a German restaurant next to Berghoff's on Jackson street in the Loop and we often went there to eat when I went in to see him. He gave me 5 or 10 dollars almost every time he invited me in. Chicago was a hurley-burley city in those days, Big Bill Thompson was Mayor, Capone ran everything, the stock market was going strong until October. The giant buildings were not yet there, probably the Wrigley building being the tallest.

I remember the headlines of the stock market crash in the Chicago TRIBUNE. But I was too far removed from that world to then realize the import of it. We heard of men jumping off high buildings and one of my employers for whom I gardened and did yard work told me one day how difficult it was to sell goods and how disastrous it was going to be soon. It was. By the Summer of 1930, Dad was only working three days a week. I was aware of the grim times around me but relatively secure with a job and board and room at both the Conference Grounds and at school.

Haass had been replaced as manager in late 1929 by a full time man by the name of Leinberger. He hired me for the Summer of 1930 because he knew I was the only one who knew where everything was (even the sewer lines) and where to do the purchasing. It was a turbulent time with scoldings and mistakes and changes in the middle of jobs. One week before leaving for Seminary, he had me handling the team of horses (no experience), filling silo. They ran away tearing the harness. The next day, over my protest, he had me handle them again with borrowed harness and they ran off again. He fired me on the spot. His son Hugo, aged 10- 11 was in the midst of the fuss and, though we were associated in later years, we never mentioned it again.

Haass let me preach on two Sundays while he was on vacation and the events left something to be desired. My sermons were about a page and a half long which lasted not more than seven minutes. My prayers were one short paragraph each - and altogether the congregation hardly got settled before I was pronouncing the benediction! Aunt Jennie got home and Erna asked her if Worship had been canceled and she kindly said, "Merl let us out early". It was a revealing experience for me and fortunately, I was among friends.

Off in September, 1930 to Eden Seminary in Webster Groves, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis to room with Gus Pahl. H. R. Niebuhr was now dean of the school and professor of Philosophy . He assigned a paper on the Negro in St. Louis and Gus and I went down to the "ghetto", took pictures, talked with storekeepers and people on the street. That was the first time I had seen such poverty, outside toilets in the heart of the city, and the ravages of the Depression on the Blacks. Our class met with black leaders one night and we heard of the ghetto existence and the second class life they led.

Allen Wehrli taught Old Testament and Hebrew with dramatic embellishments of the Bible stories. Karl Morgan Block, later bishop of Southern California was great in pastoral work. A speech professor came from St. Louis University once a week and did marvels with our shabby pronunciations and delivery.

I taught citizenship classes one night a week at the YMCA on the South Side of St. Louis and another night on the North Side. I got a dollar for each session and that was my picket money. At first, it was hard for me to deal with adults, many of whom could not read or write. I went to Dunkirk for my first Christmas home in four years. Eden was less expensive than Elmhurst - no tuition, low cost board and room - it was heavily subsidized by the denomination. We could go to the side room of Curlee Clothing Co. and find suits on the rack (overruns or returns or something) for $12.50 each with two pair of pants. Could also get Arrow shirts at the wholesale house in sets of three for $1.50 each.

I took Homoletics (the art of sermon preparation and preaching) from Prof. H. H. Lohans, who also was pastor of the local Evangelical Church. We began a friendship which lasted for years. He was a great admirer of Harry Emerson Fosdick, minister of the Riverside Church in New York City and NBC radio preacher. Lohans had us analyze Fosdick's sermons and listen to his radio broadcast every Sunday afternoon. Such training deeply influenced my sermon preparation and delivery style. We also had to prepare a German sermon and preach it before graduating.

In the late Spring of '31 I met Mathilda by having a blind date with her sister Irma. Bill Halfter arranged it and took Mathilda and us to an outing of the student body. I had seen her previously in the school play "The Servant in the House". She was a small person, very pretty, good conversationalist, shy.

Called her a week later and Gus and I took her and Irma to a movie. They then lived on Wyoming Street in St. Louis, while a house on Sheffield in Webster Groves was being built.

Going home to no job in June, '31, classmate Bierbaum asked me to take his place and stop off the train at Carlyle, Illinois to conduct a Sunday Service. Carlyle was a county seat about fifty miles east of St. Louis. Shipping my luggage ahead to Dunkirk, I got a stopover ticket, preached a sermon and noticed afterwards that the trustees were huddled off to one side. They came over and asked me if I could stay until September when their new minister would arrive. I was surprised and asked how I would live? They said Grandma Somebody was moving with her daughter and she would put her goods in the parsonage for my use until Fall. I went back to St. Louis to get supplies - I had no books, paper, desk supplies, no liturgy book, nothing. I had to get a church license to officiate. I also had to get my luggage back from Dunkirk.

When I got back to Carlyle the following week, the parsonage, a rather new bungalow was nicely furnished right down to the last dish, towels, sheets, everything. I was to get $15 a week. Had a call the following Sunday to a sick man who wanted communion. Toured the neighborhood, introducing myself and asking, if they had some wine could I have a little? (It was prohibition time). No one would admit that they had any, even the Catholic priest. I was to get paid every two weeks but they had nothing in the treasury and so gave me most of the Sunday offering toward my salary - like $6 or $7 a week. At the end of August they had a "picnic" (Bazaar, really) and paid me up to date. Meanwhile I had a hard time making ends meet and sometimes was down to my last quarter. Neighbor-members were good to me and if I happened to go by their houses at mealtime, they invariably invited me to "pull up a chair".

Carlyle was the first county seat outside St. Louis (east) where marriage licenses were not published in the St. Louis papers. The County Clerk, Sheriff and Mayor of the town were all members of either the German church (or the Presbyterian church I also supplied soon after I got there). The clerk would ask couples if they had a minister, otherwise he "would call his" and while they were on their way, he called me to get ready. The Sheriff got me out of bed one midnight and another at 6 AM to perform a ceremony.

I had coffee with the Sheriff and a Judge some mornings and one time the Judge asked me to take the probation of a young girl who had no family and was picked up for vagrancy. I did so naively but asked for relief in three days because she showed up at the parsonage every afternoon to sit on the porch and talk.

At my first funeral I had no idea what to do, not having attended a funeral since I was 12. I went to the local funeral director, confessed my ignorance and had him go over the ceremony for me.

An old maid became seriously ill, her relatives never came near. I got the neighbors to look in on her, she confided in me, and then, when she died, the nephews and nieces came swarming. I was in a Will controversy (as a witness) which went through several trials over the next year.

In my second year at school Elmer Arndt came to take H. R. Niebuhr's place (he went to Yale) and we became close friends until we drew apart in disagreement over World War II. I did some supply preaching and had tougher classes and seminars with lots of outside study. Had to drop Hebrew III because of the load.

Met Mathilda in the early Fall at the Webster Church youth meeting. The Keller family had moved back to Webster on Sheffield Drive. She was so interesting and attractive that I wanted to see more of her. Began going to Sheffield by streetcar or walking, spending the evening in conversation with her and her father Phil, taking walks, attending Eden events. She was a lovely person and I was proud when I could walk beside her.

I was active in a local Peace Council and had charge of arranging an Eden "float" for the November 11 St. Louis Peace parade. Had most of the student body (70-80) marching behind the float with placards. Met John Haynes Homes the great Civil Liberties Union leader at a rally. From experiences with Carlyle farmers who were striking against St. Louis Pevely Dairy, got active in the strike, had speakers at Eden for and against, wrote an article for the school paper, got Eden to change dairies. I told Phil. Keller all about it and remember him going to the phone and canceling Pevely delivery.

Attended Socialist rallies, met Norman Thomas and had him speak at Eden. Also brought Fenner Brockway to speak, head of the Independent Labor Party of Great Britain which Keir Hardy founded. Phil was very impressed with him, drove him to the station and had a memorable visit over coffee until train time. Brockway later spoke at Boston, NY for me, and later became Lord Brockway - the end of his leadership. Socialists Paul Porter and Bayard Rustin came. Porter served FDR in Washington and later became a leading lawyer lobbyist in Washington. Rustin, a strong young radical later campaigned for L. B. Johnson. J. B. Matthews, a Consumer advocate later was a right wing counsel for Joe McCarthy, "pursuing red clergy" he said. I have seen that often, time dimming the zeal, money and the power becoming too great a temptation to stay radical. I an glad my social concerns diminished little through the years - just getting smarter on how to handle people and try to accomplish the goals. I voted for Norman Thomas from 1932 to 1948.

The Bonus marchers went to Washington during Hoover's time and Gen. MacArthur, the newspapers wrote, delayed his troops until his white horse could be brought; then he led the military against the WWI veterans, destroying their tents and driving them across the Potomac. Dwight Eisenhower was his aide.

"Hooverville" was a shanty town of dispossessed people on the Mississippi levee in St. Louis. I took my turn going down there to conduct Sunday afternoon Services in a makeshift shelter. 10 or 15 people showed up. Grim, sad, usually old, poorly clad, I don't remember what I said but I do remember feeling, as I talked, that I wasn't where they were or relevant to their condition. I remember also that an evangelist showed up at a nearby location and passed out oranges after his Service. He got a crowd.

Mathilda was graduated from Washington University in June, 1932. Her mother, grandmother and I attended the ceremony. That Spring she had announced our engagement at Alpha Xi, an Eden guy got hold of the printed notice and put it on our dining room bulletin board one noon. The students took me out to the garden pool and dumped me in, then dumped in other engaged men, and then we turned around and tossed in everyone else who was there.

I had hoped to get a Summer preaching job and one clergyman in St. Louis asked me to supply his pulpit for the summer at $5 a week. That I couldn't afford to live on. A church in Hudson, Kansas wrote me and when I replied, they didn't answer. Stayed in Webster Groves an extra two weeks waiting for the letter - having dinner at Keller's each night. Minnie Keller was good to me and understanding. I was somewhat in awe of Phil., as his daughters were - literally the head of the house. Though we got into some very good discussions about the conditions of the day. Mathilda could not find work, finally did some canvassing for product interest and a few other odd jobs.

Somehow I had saved up the train fare which got me to Dunkirk. There I did nothing - literally nothing all the Summer of 1932. Sat on the porch and read library books and borrowed $7.50 on Jack's signature just for personal items. Jack was working at the Merchants Bank getting $12 a week.

The depression was at its worst with Herbert Hoover ignoring, indeed, not believing that so many people were unemployed. Families were selling their furniture for cash, doubling up with in-laws. There was no welfare such as we now know, only cash for groceries when applied for at the city hall. Dad worked three days a week and extra hours on people's houses. I helped when he needed me. Jim was caddying. I recall wondering out loud once at a meal, why we had so much hamburger? - at 2 lbs. for 25 cents, it was all we could afford.

I had to borrow $400 from the Masonic scholarship fund and St. John's, Dunkirk gave me train fare back to St. Louis. By that time, Haass had moved to Rochester, and J. Paul Goebel was the pastor. He would ask me if I needed help and then discover that church groups did not have the money to help.

Mathilda was working a little, mostly volunteer. With her father we went to hear Oscar Ameringer, Socialist vice-presidential candidate, Fenner Brockway and others. Phil. became radicalized as time went on. He voted for Norman Thomas. Later he believed he was radical in his early days but I think Mathilda and I did the converting.

I remember the day of the Japanese invasion of Manchuria. Walking down to the newsstand, I wondered why everyone on the street was so calm.

The depression was deep. Went to a party with Mathilda at the house of a friend of hers, and they had no furniture, nothing. They had sold it to raise cash. I went with several students to the President of Eden to wonder how we could help cut the cost of meals and services. We suggested cutting the size of the servings in the dining hall one-fourth and not telling the other students. It was done - and we never noticed it. Yet we were sheltered from the brunt of the hard times by regular meals, housing and some income. We only knew of the crisis as we read of it. I enjoyed the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, O. K. Bovard's editorials and the reporting of Paul Y. Anderson.

An interesting event happened while I was a second year student which would probably have changed my career had it been successful. I was asked by the school President to go to the Wydown Congregational Church, near Washington University in St. Louis to be interviewed for an assistantship, part time as a student until I graduated when it would be full time. I spent Saturday evening in a series of interviews with the Minister and church leaders. I returned on Sunday morning to visit all of the church school classes, attended the Service of Worship and was introduced to the congregation, and after another group interview was invited to the Minister's home for lunch. It was an attractive place and on sitting down to eat, the food was passed including a dish of beets.

Now it happened that I was not overly fond of beets, no matter how prepared. But the Minister passed them again, and the third time he mentioned that his wife had prepared them in a special way. Still, I declined them. Well, I didn't get the job. In fact, I received a brief word through the school president that the church was postponing its decision. But, to this day, I have always believed I lost the job because I didn't like beets. (I felt they did not think I was suited to that type of congregation). If I had the job, I am sure my life plan would have gone off in a different direction that the one it did.

I joined the sixteen man school Glee Club when a vacancy occurred. We sang in area churches and festivals, touring Missouri churches one long weekend, stopping in Washington, MO, the corn cob pipe capital of the country and seeing a cyclone shelter for the first time. Gus and I stayed with a farm couple overnight and at breakfast the next morning she served coffee cake and hot cereal. As we finished what we thought was our breakfast, she brought in six fried eggs, ham and fried potatoes. And apple pie. And when we didn't eat all of it, she thought we didn't like her cooking. Our Spring tour included Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Chicago and Northern Illinois churches. Along the Ohio River, we stopped one noon at a State Park for lunch. We climbed down a stairs into a deep rock canyon and started to sing (we were always singing). Our voices sounded strong in the canyon and soon we were giving a concert to the crowds of people who lined the rim high above us.

It was a Seminary rule that students could not supply vacant pulpits regularly until their Senior year and then we were to follow a call-list. But when I preached one Sunday at Centralia, Illinois, about 65 miles east of St. Louis, and Gus preached the following Sunday, including German, they asked the school President if the two of us could supply the church, alternating weekends. He consented and we did, teaching confirmation, making calls and attending Youth meetings. We received $15 including travel.

We stayed at Henry and Dede Krueger's from Friday night to Sunday night. They treated us like their sons, no charge to us, and kept track of things that were supposed to be done when we arrived on the scene. I directed the play "The Terrible Meek" and gave it Good Friday night. Dede drove in to Kellers so Phil. could see her so Mathilda could go out with me for a weekend. We served the church from Fall to about May 1st when their Minister arrived. They wanted one of us for their pastor after our graduation, but the District President said NO.

Roosevelt had been elected, Norman Thomas getting over a million votes. Thomas would have gotten more except that near voting time, people became afraid Hoover might win. I heard Roosevelt's inaugural "afraid of fear" speech and remember the excitement of the first 100 days with the bank closings and drastic measures pushed through Congress.

St. John's Church gave me a pulpit robe. It arrived in March but the bank holiday had shut off all funds and it was May before I got the check to pay for it. Incidentally, at the bank holiday, that loan of $7.50 co-signed by Jack, was called and they raised an awful fuss because I could not pay it at once. Only because Jack worked at the Bank were they lenient in waiting a little while.

It was a rule of the General Synod that graduates were assigned by the national president to a district president who assigned the new graduate to a church. One had to go to it for two years and few of us had any clout to get a favorable assignment. We knew where the vacancies were - small churches throughout the country - but we did not know where we were going to go.

However, I had a bit of inside track in that my home pastor's wife was the general Synod President's daughter. And President Locher lived a few doors off the Eden Campus. I got along well with them and Mrs. Locher often had me over for cookies, coffee and visitin'. She found out from her husband that I was to go to Waco, Texas. Next time she said it was Lewisville, Ohio. And the next and final time she said Boston, New York, only 18 miles from Dunkirk but a place I had never heard of. Each time I reported to Mathilda, her father got the details from Dun and Bradstreet.

Graduation at Eden was attended by Mathilda, her mother, Grandma Weis and Dede Krueger. I left St. Louis the next day, going home by way of Chicago. Stayed at Gus Pahl's and did the World's Fair in one day. All I remember of it was its size - everything was done in a huge way - buildings, carnivals, displays.

harolfds@gmail.com last modified 1/16/97