The Autobiography of Norman Woodworth

As published in

The Dawn Magazine

May 1975 to July 1976

Plus

* W. Norman Woodworth Obituary

* Elisa Woodworth Obituary

* Autobiography of William F. Crawford

* Pantel Hatgis Trip to Greece

* The Dawn Film Service Report

The Drawing Power of God

THE last decade of the nineteenth century was a very important one to me, although at the time I was a mere child. It was during this period that my father came into contact with the truth, which we still so lovingly refer to as the divine plan of the ages. Although very young at the time, my father’s faithful witnessing concerning the glorious things which he had learned from the Word of God began to make an impression on me. It was toward the close of this decade that volume 4 of Studies in the Scriptures was published. The original title of this book was The Day of Vengeance, but this was later changed to The Battle of Armageddon. Those who are acquainted with this book will know that it deals largely with world conditions in this end of the age which, as pointed out, have developed into the greatest time of trouble the world has ever seen.

My father was very interested in the biblical truths brought forth in this volume, and talked about them a great deal. As I look back upon it now and remember the impressions that were made upon my young mind-I still hadn’t reached the teenage stage-I feel I can almost say that, religiously speaking, I was brought up on the time of trouble. From what I learned from my father’s comments as he talked with others, it seemed that this great time of trouble was to reach its climax in the year 1914. It appeared to my young mind, from the way my father described it, that when this climax was reached it would mean the end of just about everything that we as humans know in connection with our way of life. I thought about this more than once, and to an extent felt sorry for myself that I was so unfortunate as to the time when I was born, for it seemed that when I reached the age when I could really enjoy the things of this world they would all be over.

Of course I had a false conception of what the foretold time of trouble would mean for mankind. Otherwise, I would have rejoiced in the thought of how the joys of the world would be so greatly increased, and so soon. This I learned as I grew older and continued to listen to my father as he bore witness to others; and he was a faithful witness for Jesus and for the Word of God.

Not a Believer

In this early period of my life I was not in reality what one could describe as a believer; I was merely a child. I was interested and impressed simply because my father was so enthusiastic about these great new things which he had learned. The only church to which my father ever belonged was the Advent Church, but there was no Advent Church in the area in which we lived in these maturing years of my life, and my father did not join any of the other churches. However, he did attend occasionally. He was a good tenor singer and for a while sang in the choir of the Methodist Church. Other than this he attended church only when something special was to take place, such as an evangelistic service, and he attended then because he hoped there would be an opportunity to bear witness to the truth. And he always seemed able to bring about the much desired opportunity. I learned to enjoy going to church on these occasions with my father because I knew that if anything in the way of a controversy arose he would always come out on top, and that I enjoyed.

My father owned and operated a sawmill, and from a very early age I worked in this mill, together with my three brothers and hired hands as they were needed. The hired hands were of the type who were not too careful of their language, and I was impressed with the erroneous thought that when I got into unexpected trouble I could talk my way out by swearing, although I never used profane language if I knew my father was around. One day I had a trying experience and, thinking that my Dad was not in the mill at the time, I tried to pour oil on the wound by swearing. That night my father planned to attend a special evangelical meeting. It was my assignment that week to milk the family cow, and after supper I asked my Dad, if I could get someone to milk the cow for me that night, could I go to meeting with him. He looked at me very understandingly and replied, ‘Yes, son, you need to go to meeting."

The special item on the program for this meeting was a lecture by a noted evangelist in which he told of two dreams he had experienced. In the first of these dreams it seemed that he was taken to the edge of the great abyss of eternal fire and brimstone and saw the sufferings of the sinners, and heard their groanings. In the second dream it seemed that he had visited heaven and participated in the joys of the saved. After he finished his lecture the meeting was thrown open for testimony, and this is where my father got his chance. My father made good use of his opportunity.

Boldly and without compromise he pointed out the truth concerning hell as it is taught in the Bible. The meeting was thrown into confusion. There was no lack of further testimonies, and without exception each one in turn agreed with the evangelist. During the meeting I sat beside a clergyman-a very honest and sincere black clergyman-and his was the last testimony. He talked at considerable length, using all the scriptures he could which he thought showed the idea of eternal torture for sinners. It was a time in which tobacco chewing was not looked upon as being offensive, so all the time he was talking I was being sprinkled with tobacco juice! I was very glad when there were signs that he was reaching the end of his dissertation; but his final remark was very surprising and very revealing. He had spent some twenty or twenty-five minutes trying to prove that there is a hell of torment for sinners, but his closing remark was, "Gentlemen, I have reached the conclusion that whether there is a hell or not I will serve the Lord just the same for fear there is." I gathered from this that the good man had not even convinced himself. Years later I lectured in this same hall. The good black preacher, meanwhile, had passed away, but many came to the meeting who were present at the time my father witnessed there and the preacher objected. These still preferred to believe in the eternal torture of the wicked.

Naturally this experience gave me more confidence than ever in what my father was learning from the Bible, and while I did not do anything about it, it afforded me a certain sense of security in that I felt that at least there is something that a teenager-and I had become a teenager by this time-could hold to and feel that it was better than what most people enjoy.

By this time in the truth movement Brother Russell was attending many small conventions when invited, and the railroad companies were co-operating by giving special reduced rates to those who attended these conventions. We learned that Brother Russell was coming to a nearby city to speak at a Bible Students Convention. My mother and my father’s sister had for a long time wanted to visit this city, so they took advantage of the reduced railroad rates to go.

They found when purchasing their tickets, however, that the reduced fare was conditional. You could purchase a one-way ticket and, by appearing at the convention and having the ticket properly validated to show that you had attended, you could get a free ride back home. They went anyway, and in order to get the free ride home were compelled to attend the convention, although up to this point they had no interest in the truth. At the convention they heard Brother Russell speak to the public, and they heard other discourses, and when they returned home they simply couldn’t talk about anything except those wonderful things they had heard at the Bible Students Convention. In fact, they were so enthusiastic that I decided that I simply must learn more about the things that Dad believed.

So on the first convenient evening I hid myself away in what we called the parlor. That word is not used much these days, but in the time that I am speaking of a parlor was a room that was as well-furnished as the family could afford, but never used except on very special occasions when special guests would drop in to have a cup of tea.

But for me the parlor was the one place of seclusion in the home of a large family where I knew I could be by myself. We had no electricity, not even gas for lights, so I lighted up the oil lamp and betook myself to the parlor. I knew that my Dad was getting all these things from the Bible, so I found a Bible and took it with me to the parlor. I sat down at a table as near to the lamp as I could get and opened the Bible, and I started to read. And what I read was this, At that time shall Michael stand up, ... and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation.

You can well imagine the effect that this had on me! For years I had heard my father talk about this time of trouble, and now with my own eyes I was reading about it right from the Bible itself! This brought me to my knees in a prayer of thanksgiving and of repentance, and for forgiveness. I closed the Bible and went to bed.

The next evening I decided on a similar course, only instead of reading from the Bible-knowing that my Dad was getting these truths through the instructions of the volumes of Studies in the Scriptures-I took with me volume 3. Not having the slightest idea what was in these volumes, I opened the book at random as I had opened the Bible, and there again I began reading about the time of trouble such as never was since there was a nation.

Marking Time

I kept this experience to myself, and continued to work in the mill and also on a small farm on which our home was located. I worked, and I thought, and I knew that the Lord was drawing me to himself, and that my only possible answer to his drawing power was the full surrender of my life to do his will in following in Jesus’ footsteps. But I did not make up my mind on this right away. As I recall, several months elapsed before I was finally drawn to the point that the only answer of a good conscience toward God was to surrender my all to him, and I did.

Then I realized that one of the first things the Lord wanted me to do as a servant of his was to bear witness to the truth. We did not live in a city. You could hardly call it a town. It was a mere village of about 1,200 inhabitants. So I decided I would secure a supply of tracts sufficient to give one to each family in the community. I was not satisfied in my new zeal to merely throw these tracts on the porches. But I knocked at the door of every home, where I knew every family, and presented the tract to them with a few words of explanation as to what they could expect to find in it.

The title of this tract was, "Are You of the Hopeful or the Hopeless?" So far as I know, everyone in that village continued to be of the hopeless, but my faith and hope were increased by the effort I had made to tell the glad tidings of the kingdom to my neighbors; and from that day until now I have been similarly rewarded for every effort I have made to bear witness to the truth.

Growing in Grace

AS A result of my mother and my aunt attending the Bible Students Convention, which I have already mentioned, they became deeply interested in the truth and went on to consecration. My father’s sister-my Aunt Clara-had two grown daughters who listened to the truth as presented to them by their mother, and they accepted the message and made a full consecration to the Lord.

Then there was a great uncle and his wife who also became interested-interested enough to open their home for a meeting.

So almost before we knew it we had the makings of a small ecclesia. We began to hold regular meetings, and used Tabernacle Shadows as a textbook. Just why we decided on Tabernacle Shadows as our initial study I will never know, except possibly because it was the first book written by Pastor Russell. We found the subject matter rather difficult, but nevertheless we received a blessing as we proceeded with each meeting.

Finally we came to the place in the Tabernacle Shadows where Brother Russell brings out the thought that sisters should wear a head covering at meetings of the consecrated people of God. This precipitated the first real trial and crisis that came into my young Christian life. All of the sisters refused to cover their heads in any way at the meetings.

Their reasoning seemed sound. They said, "We are simply sitting down in our own homes to study the Bible, and why should we go through all that formality?" But to me it was a serious matter and gave me much vexation of spirit. I argued with them, but to no avail. Working in the sawmill in the daytime there was much noise all around me, so I could even sing without anyone knowing about it and I found my favorite hymn to be, "If I in thy likeness, 0 Lord, may awake, and shine a pure image of thee, then I shall be satisfied when I can break the fetters of flesh and be free."

I was sure as a result of this great trial that had come to me for what I believed was my faithful stand for the truth and for my Lord, that I had just about made my calling and election sure and would soon be glorified. I still believe that the Lord is pleased to have the sisters cover their heads in meetings, but I realize now, as I look back upon my childish reasoning at that time, that I made a much greater issue out of this matter than should have been made. I am thankful that the Lord was patient with me and that the issue gradually receded and the class was not divided, which could have been the case had I insisted on my way just a little more rigidly.

Having formed an ecclesia, we sent in a request to the Bible House for pilgrim service, and we were blessed from time to time by visits of one or another of the pilgrims. Among them we had young Brother Walter Bundy, and we had Brother Frank Draper, and also Brother John Harrison. Brother Harrison, by the way, was the grandfather of Brothers Roy and Martin Mitchell and Sister Norma Mitchell, who were long-time members of the New York Bible Students Church, their mother before them also being a member of this congregation. Sister Norma Mitchell-the only one of these still living-is still a faithful member of the New York Church.

We also had as a visiting pilgrim, Brother Benjamin H. Barton, and how well I remember some of the details of his visits! As I already mentioned, my father had been an Adventist. Before moving to the location where I consecrated, we had lived in an area about twenty-five miles away, where there was an Advent Church, and to this he belonged. But the truth began to have its effect in this church-largely, I think, as a result of my father’s witnessing-so that nearly all in the congregation accepted the glorious Gospel of the kingdom. The result of this was that these brethren took control of the church and held their meetings there.

Knowing that Brother Barton was a good public speaker, we decided to take him into this area, and an arrangement was made to hold a public meeting in this former Advent Church. The church was packed that night, and Brother Barton gave an eloquent discourse on the subject, "The Truth About Hell." He quoted many of the usual scriptures used in presenting this subject, explaining the meaning of sheol and hades and Gehenna, which are translated hell in the King James Version of the Bible, and then he went to some of the symbolic passages of the sacred Scriptures which are frequently used in an attempt to prove the theory of eternal torture.

Finally he turned to Re 14:9-11 and read it: "And the third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, If any man worship the beast and his image, and receive his mark in his forehead, or in his hand, the same shall drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation; and he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb: and the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever: and they have no rest day nor night, who worship the beast and his image, and whosoever receiveth the mark of his name."

Brother Barton called attention to the fact that the smoke of the torment referred to here ascended forever and ever "in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb." Thus, he said-and rightly so-the smoke of this torment arose in heaven, because this is where the holy angels and the Lamb reside. So he concluded from this, for the benefit of the audience, that if this be literally true it would mean that it would be as smoky in heaven for all eternity as it is in Pittsburgh. By way of explanation I might add that at that time Pittsburgh was considered to be one of the smokiest cities in the country, if not in the world; so his illustration made the point.

Brother Barton explained simply that we think of smoke as the evidence that there has been a fire. Here, the smoke of their torment would be the memory of their torment, and this would never be forgotten by the angels nor by the Lamb, and as a matter of fact, neither by mankind in general.

In those days there were no automobiles. One could travel by bicycle, or walk, or use a horse and buggy. My father had a three-seated buggy, which needed two horses, and he had the horses. So from time to time our little class would pile into this oversized buggy and drive to visit a neighboring ecclesia. They were small ecclesias, but there were several within twenty-five or thirty miles from where we lived. We would usually do this on the occasion of a pilgrim visit. Another pilgrim who visited us during that period was Brother Frank Draper, and what a blessing we all enjoyed in fellowship with our brethren in another ecclesia and hearing Brother Draper give his discourse!

But capping the climax of all this was a visit from Brother Russell himself. This had been arranged by Brother Ingram Margeson of Boston, Massachusetts, formerly of Nova Scotia. He arranged for Brother Russell to come to our territory, where a number of local conventions were scheduled, together with public meetings. His first stop was our little village of twelve hundred people-Berwick-and naturally we felt very honored. We secured the only auditorium in town, which seated about two hundred people.

Brother Russell traveled in a special car hitched to a regular train, and when he came into our territory there were about thirty brethren with him. We had worked hard for this convention-and it was a convention, because Brother Russell addressed the friends in the afternoon. The public meeting was to be in the evening, and a few of us in the territory had traveled up and down the country-some walking and some on bicycles-distributing the advertising matter.

We were so sure, from the reports we had read, that our little hall holding two hundred would be far too small to hold those who would want to hear him. Imagine our surprise, therefore, when we went to the hall that evening, together with the other brethren, and waited for the public to come. Our turnout of the public was exactly three people! However, Brother Russell gave his talk on the subject "To Hell and Back" with the same zest and enthusiasm as though he were addressing three thousand people, and we all felt that we had been blessed.

That night, after the public meeting, the friends who came with Brother Russell, plus some others who were joining the party, boarded the train and went along with him to his next stop. This was Halifax, and the attendance at this convention was probably as many as two hundred. Here also there was a public meeting, and well attended. And here also there was a baptismal service. Brother Russell gave the discourse on baptism, and I was one of the brethren to be baptized. Being immature in the truth I got the opinion that when I was raised up from the water I should feel some special surge of the Holy Spirit, or something that would make me realize that I had been accepted by the Lord.

But nothing like this occurred, and only after further consideration and discussion with the brethren I realized that I had been looking for something that does not occur on such occasions. I had faithfully obeyed the instructions of the Lord, and my part now was faithfully to believe that the Lord would fulfill his promises and that my consecrated life, if I continued to be faithful, would ultimately result in glory, honor, and immortality.

The convention party moved on from here to a slightly smaller city, (Truro), where there was another local convention. Brother Russell spoke to the brethren in the afternoon, and a public meeting was arranged for the evening. Here the auditorium was too small properly to hold all who attended. About forty of the brethren were selected to sit on the stage behind Brother Russell to make room for more of the public, and to my consternation I was one of those selected. I felt awkward, but at the same time was happy to be able to sit so close to where Brother Russell spoke.

Brother Russell’s topic for that evening was, "A Thief in Paradise, A Rich Man in Hell, and Lazarus in Abraham’s Bosom." I never have been disappointed in Brother Russell, although in my long association with him sometimes I was surprised, and this was one of those occasions. Brother Russell talked for at least an hour and a half, presenting the plan of God without even mentioning his subject, but when he got around to it he spent sufficient time on each item of his subject to explain it beautifully. Meanwhile, of course, many of the public had left the auditorium, but Brother Russell did not seem concerned with this. He had given the majority of them a good witness to the truth of the divine plan, and to him that was all that mattered.

Having spent these three days in close association with Brother Russell, the thought began crystallizing in my mind that I must spend more time in the service of the Lord. I realized now as never before that, unless there are circumstances which make it impossible, one’s consecration means full-time service of the Lord, and I began thinking along that line. About the only full-time service then available was the colporteur work, and I decided to enter this work as soon as possible

The Colporteur Work

WHAT was and is known as the colporteur work is the selling of truth literature on a door-to-door basis. Brother W.H. Deming of Ohio, was the first one to engage in this work. In a General Convention at Chautauqua, Ohio, Brother Deming told of some of his experiences in the colporteur work and also told of a public meeting for which he arranged while in this work. He chose as his subject for the meeting, "The United States to Have a King." He told the brethren that the auditorium was crowded.

From the time I made up my mind that I would enter this phase of service I began to be fearful of how well I could do it. I am not what one would call an "outgoing" person by nature, and it is very difficult for me to converse with strangers, especially if I have to lead in the conversation and keep it moving. So I wondered how a person like this would really make out in the colporteur work.

It was a few weeks after reaching the decision to enter this service before I actually got started, and I never will forget my experience in making my first call. A lady met me at the door and invited me into her home. But I soon came out, and I came out utterly amazed, for, believe it or not, I sold a book! I do not know how it happened. All I know is that it gave me the courage to continue on.

This particular colporteur trip was not to be a long one. I soon found that I needed some funds on hand to carry on this work as it was conducted in those days. We took orders for the books and delivered them usually the following Monday, and one had to have sufficient funds to pay for a room and food during the week. And sometimes the collections on the delivery of books on Monday were not sufficient to carry one through the remainder of the week, so I decided to return home, which was nearby, and work in my father’s sawmill until spring. I knew that there I could earn a dollar a day, and I figured that by working through the winter at this scale I would have enough funds to carry me through the following summer, which I did.

Brother Arthur Marchant-a colporteur who introduced the truth to my father-went with me on this short trip and, through a sister who lived on a farm nearby, arranged for a public meeting to be held on the following Sunday evening. We drove to the schoolhouse in which the meeting was to be held, with a horse and buggy loaned to us by a relative. As we came within about fifteen minutes of the schoolhouse, Brother Marchant made the startling announcement that I was to give the lecture that night.

I had never given a lecture and I decided that Brother Marchant was overdoing things just a little. But he insisted, and when the meeting started there I was on the platform. I had learned, through correspondence, that there was a very young brother at Bethel at that time, (W.F. Hudgings) who was giving public lectures and being billed as "the boy preacher." And though I knew that I was more of a boy than he could possibly be, this gave me a little courage, and while waiting for the opening hymn to be sung I began to think about my subject.

No formal topic had been announced, so I decided to speak on the subject of restitution, using Ac 3:19-21 as my text. From the time that I began my real interest in the truth I made it a point to memorize as many scriptures as I could, and fortunately I had memorized many from the Old Testament, which gave me a background for what I wanted to present to the audience-and we had a good audience; the schoolhouse was filled. The only way I have of knowing how that discourse was received was by the fact that nobody left the auditorium until I was through.

However, my aunt-father’s sister-criticized me very severely for even undertaking it, and I knew from her attitude that she felt that it was not right for one so young to be participating in this type of service. And she was probably right, from the standpoint that it might go to my head, so to speak; and I prayed earnestly that this might not be the case. Anyway, it was many months before I had another such opportunity.

The Winter Passed

The winter passed, and my little nest egg of finances built up to some extent, so I was ready to go out again. A brother living in Digby County, Nova Scotia, which was east from my home, wanted to go with me that spring, and he preferred to work in the province of New Brunswick. St. John, New Brunswick, was just across the Bay of Fundy from where he lived, so I joined him there for the trip across the bay. Ordinarily one makes that trip by passenger boat, which plies from Digby to St. John, but this young brother-whose name was Walter Boutelier-and his father owned and operated a general store in the town of Digby and owned a boat about as large as a medium sized tugboat with which to convey his merchandise from New Brunswick to Digby, so Walter and I decided that we would cross the bay in his father’s boat. We took off at night and arrived in St. John in the morning. Since Walter wished to work in the country, we provided ourselves with bicycles for this undertaking.

Reaching St. John we went immediately to a home in that city which had become the haven of many transient Bible students, especially colporteurs. It was the home of a sea captain and his wife who loved the truth and were anxious to do all they could to assist the Bible Students, especially the colporteurs, in their efforts to serve the Lord. This dear old sea captain made a sort of profession of forecasting the weather each morning to let everybody know what to expect during the day. Many times he recognized that he had no idea what the weather would be; so his forecast on such occasions would be, "There will be no change as long as present conditions exist."

As expected, we found a number of brethren staying in this home, but none of them planned to do colporteur work. So Walter and I remained for but a few hours and then we started out on our bicycles, which we had loaded with books. Probably each one of us was carrying as many as one hundred and fifty volumes. We started on the main highway, the post road leading to Moncton, New Brunswick, the distance to which was probably in the neighborhood of one hundred miles. There were no paved highways in those days, or at least very few, because automobiles, while occasionally one had put in an appearance, were not generally used.

We rode the bicycles on the dirt road and called at every house as we went along. The homes were occupied mostly by farmers. Our sale of books was fair. On this trip we did not take orders, but sold outright. When nighttime approached we began inquiring for a place to stay. We finally found a farmhouse lady who was glad to take us in, but she explained that we might not get much for breakfast, as she had just sold all her eggs.

We were more interested at the moment in a place to sleep than in breakfast, so we accepted her offer. We slept well that night and wakened early. Walter was awake a little before I was. He awakened me with a punch in the ribs and said, "Cheer up! We’ll have breakfast." And as I opened my eyes I heard a hen cackling. So we had breakfast, and the woman accepted a first volume in return for it. Then we went on our way.

Nothing exciting happened as we went along, and finally we arrived in Moncton, where we stayed overnight at the home of a Sister Mullen, the only Bible student in the town. From Moncton we traveled north for about fifty miles, and by this time Walter decided that he had better go home. He never explained it to me, but I think he had decided that the colporteur work was not for him. So we returned to St. John, and instead of waiting for his father’s boat to come and pick us up we traveled to Digby on a passenger boat.

He went home, but I didn’t. I decided that I would go alone to the south shore of Nova Scotia. I gave up my bicycle and went by train. On that trip I had some unusual experiences. I worked in a number of places following the south shoreline of Nova Scotia, and one of these areas was known as Tancook Islands. There was Big Tancook and Little Tancook. There was no way to reach these islands except by motorboat, and these made the trip very infrequently. They were, in reality, owned mostly by the people who lived on the island and came in just for supplies. I went first to Big Tancook. No colporteur had ever been there before, so it was virgin territory, but that was about the best you could say for it.

There were no roads on the island, just footpaths from one house to another, and the houses for the most part were merely shacks. There were two industries on the island. One was fishing and the other was boat-building. Ninety per cent of the fishermen were unable to read and write. The boat builders were better off in this respect, although there was a large percentage of illiteracy among these also.

My first need was to find a place to stay. I found one of the shacks where the only place they had for me to sleep was in a small attic not high enough to stand erect. It was necessary to furnish me with a ladder each night so I could crawl up through the floor to my "bedroom," and there I had the privilege of sleeping on a pile of straw. In the morning the ladder would be put up to the hole and I would come down for breakfast, which usually consisted of fish. I appreciated all this, because I knew I was in the service of the Lord.

While there were many illiterate people on these islands, they seemed glad to buy the books. My hope was that at least the next generation might find something in the homes of the parents which they could read and be enlightened. In delivering the books I came to one man who could read, and he immediately opened the first volume of Studies in the Scriptures and turned to the beginning of the third chapter, which deals with the Bible as a divine revelation. In the opening paragraph of the chapter Brother Russell suggests that the reader lay aside the Bible for the time being and just base his thoughts on the reasonable conclusions which could be reached to prove that the Bible is the Word of God.

But this man took too much for granted. All that he read was the suggestion to temporarily lay aside the Bible, and that was too much for him. He did not take time, nor was he interested, to find out the real point the author was making. Since then I have often thought of that attitude on the part of this good man and have observed how many there are in the world, and sometimes Christians, who are not good listeners. They go through life with a scanty knowledge of the truth, or whatever they may be specially interested in, simply because they do not listen sufficiently to learn more. Talking with these people one discovers that instead of listening to what is said to them they are deciding what they will say to you. This is unfortunate, and I have been very thankful to the Lord that my shyness of nature has caused me to be a good listener.

Other Fields

From the Tancook Islands I moved on to another field of colporteur service. I was invited to join some other brethren. One was Brother Henry Holmes, who "got" the truth while he was a warden in a prison. Another was Brother Taylor, who "got" the truth from Brother Holmes while he was a prisoner in that prison. The other was Brother Murdock of Boston, Massachusetts.

Two of these three brethren had one very tragic thing in common. Together with their wives they had attended a convention in Norfolk, Virginia, and while at this convention the two wives mentioned were killed by a railway train on an open crossing. The two brethren were now devoting their lives to the spreading of the glorious Gospel of the kingdom, and I was happy indeed to be invited to join them. Our experiences while working together were not especially outstanding. They were experiences, rather, which one encounters in a regular way in pursuing this type of service.

However, there was one day I did have an unusual experience. I had taken the train to another town about twenty miles away, with the plan to colporteur there and come back to home base on the last train of the evening. But, whatever the reason, I missed that train. I didn’t have enough money to go to a hotel, so the only thing I could do was to walk back to my own room. I didn’t even know the way by road, so I walked along the ties of the railroad. I knew that if I followed the railroad long enough it would lead me where I wanted to go, and it did. I don’t recall the hour when I arrived at my room, because naturally I was tired and fell asleep right away; but Brother Holmes told me the next morning that he heard me come in, came into my room, and while I was sleeping sang softly, "One more day’s work for Jesus, One less of toil for thee."

Another New Field

Again the winter was approaching. Meanwhile, Brother J.A. Meggison, well-known since as a pilgrim, joined us, but the other three brethren decided to return home for the winter. Brother Meggison and I talked it over and decided that we would move on into the state of Maine to work through the winter-which, by the way, is one of the coldest states in America. We packed the books we had on hand-several hundred of them-and shipped them by freight, collect, to Bangor, Maine.

But there was one point we overlooked. It took all the money we had to buy our railroad tickets, and when we got to Bangor we found that we didn’t even have a book available to use as a sample, and no money to pay the freight on the box of books that had already arrived. We were very proud, but there was nothing else to do but to inform Brother W. S. Marshall of Bangor of our predicament. He promptly paid the freight on our books and invited us into his home to live. We didn’t want to be a burden on others, so as soon as we sold our first lot of books and got paid for them we rented a room.

It was hard going in Bangor that winter. Brother Meggison and I always had something to eat, but for breakfast we found that while we could have a dish of oatmeal porridge we didn’t have the money to buy milk or sugar for the porridge. Brother Marshall learned about the hard time we were having, so he communicated with a brother about twenty-five miles up the river from Bangor, a brother who was a farmer, and we received an invitation from him to come and make our home with him for the winter. There wasn’t much else to do but accept this invitation.

We had no means of transportation to get to the brother’s home, so we decided to walk, and canvass the homes along the highway. We walked all one day and canvassed-had a pretty successful day, as a matter of fact-but nighttime came on and we were unable to find a place to sleep. On the other side of the river there was another highway-we could tell from the lights. So we came to a bridge, crossed the river, and also failed to find a home that would take us in. We kept walking back toward Bangor till we came to the end of a suburban electric line. We boarded the last car, went into the city, and arrived in Bangor about one o’clock in the morning, and showed up at Brother Marshall’s home. Naturally he was surprised to see us, but also glad that we had returned to him if only for the night.

The next day we started out again and walked directly to where we had left off canvassing the day before. We had a road map to tell us approximately where Brother Wiley lived, and late in the afternoon we reached that general area, having sold quite a few books during the day. But this time a heavy fall of snow was piling down upon us, and it was windy. At times we could hardly see where we were going, but we forged ahead the best we could, looking at the names on the mailboxes and finally, as we were examining the name on a mailbox we heard a voice up ahead from the house to which the mailbox belonged shouting to us, "Right this way, brothers. You have reached home!" And we had, for the Wiley family made us a lovely home for the winter.

There were Brother and Sister Wiley and their daughter, Ruth. We worked out from their home selling the books. Each day, weather permitting, Brother Wiley let us have a horse and sleigh. They gave us sandwiches for our lunch and twenty-five cents to buy a dinner for the horse. We went canvassing in this manner if the weather was not too cold. If it was only twenty degrees below zero, we went out colpor-teuring; if it was thirty degrees we stayed home.

I well remember an experience one day when we were out, following a heavy snow storm. The people had not yet got the footpaths shoveled out, so in order to get to the homes we more or less had to make our own paths. Brother Meggison took one side of the road and I took the other. On my side of the road there was a good-looking home, but there were no tracks to the house, indicating that no one had been outside since the storm. But I plowed my way through the snow to the side door.

The man of the house came to the door and I canvassed him, endeavoring to sell him the set of six volumes of Studies in the Scriptures. When I got through he shook his head no. Then I offered him the first three volumes for ninety-eight cents, which was then the colporteur price. Again he shook his head no. Then I offered him the first volumes for thirty-five cents. Again he shook his head. Then I offered him what was at that time called the ZA, a paperbound edition of the first volume which we sold for five cents. Again, no. Then I asked the man if he would like to have some free tracts. He made a pun on this word "tracts," and said, ‘Yes, I would like to see some tracks with the heels toward my door." I did no more colporteur work that day.

A Pilgrim Visit

While we were at the Wiley home pilgrim Brother A.H. MacMillan came through the area. We found that he could stop over one night with us; so we decided to hold a public meeting in the village-a village which consisted of perhaps two hundred people. We engaged a hall which would easily seat two hundred people, and advertised the meeting. When we arrived at the meeting and opening time came, there were Brother and Sister Wiley and Ruth, Brother Meggison and I, Brother MacMillan and three of the public.

It was decided that Brother Meggison should serve as the chairman of the meeting, and it was also decided that I should play the piano, and we both agreed to serve. Brother MacMillan gave his usual enthusiastic message, and when the meeting was over he turned to me and started to laugh. I didn’t know what there was to laugh at, but he remarked that he thought I intended to play the piano with my feet. His reference was to the awkward way I climbed onto the piano stool.

Finally, spring came. Brother Meggison moved on to his home state of Maine, and I again went home to spend a little more time in the sawmill at a dollar a day. From that winter’s service one person came into the truth-the lady from whom we rented the room in Bangor. After we had left she read mottoes we had left on the wall and literature we left on the table, and she accepted the truth.

A Slight Change

I was soon on the go again. I went to a convention in Maine and there three colporteur sisters contacted me and wanted me to help them in work they were doing in the southern part of Maine. At that time good public speakers were well advertised for their Sunday meetings. The names the interested were asked for, and the colporteurs called on these names and, if possible, sold them Studies in the Scriptures. These three sisters were engaged in this phase of colporteur work but were getting behind with their names and wanted me to help them for a while, which I agreed to do.

In due course we finished all the names on hand and no more public meetings were scheduled for the area, so the three sisters decided to return to Brooklyn and to Bethel. They learned that I had never been to Bethel and they invited me to go with them. It was an overnight trip by boat. I explained several times, when this invitation was pressed, that I could not afford it, but on the morning they were to leave they brought up the subject again and said I just had to go, that there was no excuse because they had bought a ticket for me.

On the boat that night these sisters apparently wondered what I would think of their insisting on my coming, so to clear the matter up they explained that all three of them had taken a vow never to get married. It was only a few months after this that they were all married! But that is the way I got to Bethel and got into an entirely different phase of the service-an avenue of the service which had not in reality even begun at that time.

Preparation for the Photo Drama

THE boat on which the three colporteur sisters and I traveled from Portland, Maine, to New York arrived the next morning in time for us to reach Bethel for breakfast. After breakfast was served I was shown to my room-a room which I was to share with three others, and one of these was just getting up, having missed breakfast in the dining room. He was a congenial man, and we had a long conversation. He asked me if I would like to work at Bethel.

My reply was that I hadn’t given it any thought, but if the opportunity opened I might consider it. He then advised me to see Brother Russell at the midday meal. He explained that Brother Russell remained in the dining room each mealtime long enough to interview those who wanted to see him. This young man, who in reality was Brother Henry Drey, said if I had an interview with Brother Russell and he asked me what I had worked at, to be sure to tell him. I had already told Brother Drey that I was brought up in a sawmill, which he construed to be something mechanical, and he thought that Brother Russell probably would like to know of this background.

I went down to the dining room for lunch with more or less fear and trembling. When I finally got to Brother Russell I told him why I was there and was wondering if there was any opening for an additional helper. As Brother Drey predicted, the first question he asked me was, "What can you do?”When I told him that I was brought up in a sawmill he seemed very interested and proceeded to give me an assignment. But before giving me the assignment he cautioned me not to say a word about it to anyone; that what I would be doing was strictly confidential. Then he outlined the assignment.

He told me to cross the Hudson River to Jersey City and there get myself a job of some kind that would give me the opportunity of being in a motion picture booth. He explained that it would not be possible to get such a job in New York because no one was allowed in a motion picture booth in New York unless he was a licensed operator. Then he asked me how I was fixed for money. I explained that I was very low indeed; that I had been a colporteur, etc. He reached in his pocket and gave me $10.00 and told me to report back to him in three weeks. And then I was dismissed.

By this time my head was swimming I didn’t even know how to get across the Hudson River. I didn’t know where Jersey City was located. However, I went back to my room and Brother Drey was still there. He had been down to lunch and knew that I was being interviewed by Brother Russell, so he asked me how I made out. I at once thought of those restrictions that had been placed upon me to keep this assignment confidential. I told him this, and he said, "Oh, that’s all right. I know what you are doing, for I am doing the same thing." This, of course, accounted for his irregular hours, his coming in late at night, etc. Besides this, he offered to take me with him to Jersey City and help me secure a job, for which I was very thankful. Before the day was over I was working in a motion picture booth, although I was concerned about how I would find my way back to Brooklyn that night. But somehow I made it, and my getting around the big city and its environs did not present such a problem from then on.

At the conclusion of the first three weeks I went back to Brother Russell to report. In answer to his question about how I was getting along I told him that Brother Drey and I had been working together, and that this proved a great help. He was pleased to learn this, gave me another $10.00, and told me to continue on.

I learned from Brother Drey that to obtain a license to operate a motion picture machine in New York, and many other cities, it required a certain knowledge of electrical wiring in addition to a knowledge of the machine. Neither one of us had been electricians, so this presented somewhat of a problem. This information finally got to Brother Russell, and he appointed Brother Drey and me to acquire the necessary textbooks to write a book of instructions covering the essential requirements concerning electrical wiring, etc., which we preceeded to do. When these instructions were completed Brother Russell asked us to open a motion picture operators’ school in the basement of Bethel. This, too, was a top secret. There were about twenty-five ready to enter this school, and from then until the time we were sent out on the road as actual operators that school was continued.

In due course Brother Drey and I passed our examination to be motion picture machine operators in New York City. Others also passed as time went on, and of course with this we were very happy, but we were ahead of the other preparatory work. We had a number of sisters painting slides, for one thing, and the motion picture part of the drama had not all been assembled. Brother Russell had brethren assigned to look up what they thought might be suitable motion pictures to go with the slides, and occasionally one of these would bring a film into Bethel just before the evening meal, and then Brother Russell would go down into the basement after dinner and view the picture. It was my job to precede him into the basement and get the film ready to project. The only one that I remember his definitely accepting while I had this assignment was the story of the Flood.

While we were waiting for this preparatory work to be finished Brother Russell suggested that the operators who had received licenses go out and get jobs as operators in New York theaters-not to keep them, but to run a machine a week or two, or whatever worked out best, in order to get experience on that particular make of machine. Then we were to go to an employment agency and get a job where a different make of machine was being used. Brother Russell, on his part, visited the theaters and placed himself close to the projection booth with his ear against the outside wall to hear how much noise the machine made. He reasoned, and correctly so, that the less noise we had in the theater the better. He finally found one where he could not hear the machine at all. He inquired concerning the make of this machine and learned that it was known as the Simplex projection machine, and he bought as many of these as he thought would be needed. Meanwhile we operators continued getting experience.

About the same time I had been chosen to do week-end pilgrim service, and I received an appointment for the following Sunday in Wilmington, Delaware. This meant that I would have to quit my motion picture job Saturday night, which I did, but it was late Saturday night. I took my tools with me-a pair of pliers, two or three screw drivers-and boarded the elevated train to go back to Brooklyn. Boarding the same train was a man who was intoxicated. He sat down beside me, glanced at my tools which I had laid on the seat, and commented that he was puzzled to know whether I was a dentist or a burglar.

In preparation for my talk the next day I was reading the fifth volume-the chapter on "The Witness of the Spirit." The intoxicated man looked over his shoulder and made some remark about how he wished he could have that witness of the Spirit. However, he finally got off and so did I, and I went to Wilmington the next day according to schedule.

Then another strange thing happened in connection with our training course in operating different machines. The brother who was then serving as office manager under Brother Russell sent us all a note explaining that the money we were earning really belonged to the Society, and instructed us to turn it in. None of the young brothers who were engaged in this operation were at all happy with this and, as often was true, they appointed me to be their representative to see Brother Russell. So, obediently, I went to Brother Russell, showed him the note we had received, and explained that during the entire period we were studying the motion picture operation we had not received any regular allowance and we were all getting very low in funds. He put on his glasses and, in his customary way, looked at the note, and turning to me he tore the note into shreds and said simply, "Forget it." I never did hear how the office manager liked that when the word got through to him.

Winning the Argument

At that time the country was far from having a standardized current of electricity. In some places there was alternating current and in some direct current. In some places where there was direct current the voltage was too high, so we knew that when we went out on the road we had to be prepared for all these situations. When one wishes to reduce the voltage of the current, what is known as a rheostat is used. This rheostat was not an expensive piece of equipment-the average price not more than $35.00 each.

But $35.00 was $35.00 to Brother Russell, and someone had informed him that a rheostat wasn’t necessary; that all you needed was a pail of water and then run the main line of your circuit through that pail of water. This would reduce the current and you could regulate the amount it would be reduced by the amount of water you used. This Brother Russell realized at once would be inexpensive, and he was all for it. He told me about it, and rescinded his order for rheostats. With this, I engaged Brother Russell in argument, told him the danger involved-that someone could become electrocuted, etc. He countered with what he thought he knew, and we went back and forth, probably for an hour. Finally he turned to me and said, "Well, go have it your way." And I did. I won the argument.

But still it was not time for the drama to be put on the road. The building later known as the New York City Temple was being renovated, and Brother Russell was very desirous that the first public showing of the drama be in this temple. The final work on the temple was, of course, painting, and several of us young operators were put to work helping to paint the temple, under the direction of a trained painter.

We knew from the start that it would be well-nigh impossible to get the job finished by the deadline Brother Russell had set, but we did the best we could. We worked overtime, sometimes all night long, and that was particularly true the night we finished the work. It was Saturday night, of course, and there were just odds and ends to be done here and there, so we stayed there and worked until daylight. We wanted desperately to be at the opening of the drama, particularly because Brother Russell was to speak that day, and instead of going home to bed we went to a Turkish bath-a Turkish bath which furnished couches on which to sleep. We had our Turkish bath, rested about three hours on the couches, and appeared at the temple fresh and ready for the day.

The Drama Goes on the Road

NOW that the Photo Drama of Creation was duly launched in New York City, arrangements went into effect to send it out on the road. There were twenty complete sets, each set consisting of between three and four hundred glass slides, many reels of motion pictures, a projection machine, two phonographs, and phonograph records. The slides were hand-colored, 31/4" x 4".

The slides were packed in a hard fiber case of suitable size, and this one item alone made quite a heavy load. It was decided that each operator would take one part with him on the road-the entire drama consisting of four parts-and that he would present this one part every day for a week in the various localities to which he was assigned. I was given part four, and my original assignment was in the state of Ohio. Among other cities, I presented the drama in Columbus, Cleveland, and Toledo.

I then received instructions to proceed at once to Chicago and report to the local supervisor of the drama work there, leaving the section of the Photo Drama which I was using in Ohio. Arriving in Chicago, I discovered that they had a rather unique situation there. They had just started to present part one of the drama in what was known as the auditorium. It was in the early days of unionism, and the stagehands in the auditorium all belonged to the union. They had agreed to allow one nonunion worker to come in and project the pictures.

The brother who had been assigned to this position found that he had to leave the service; therefore a new operator was required. Rather than take the chance of sending in too many individual operators (the drama was to operate there for four weeks), they decided to assign me the job for all four weeks and thus avoid as far as possible any controversy with the union.

The auditorium, together with all its appointments, was up-to-date and beautiful. It seated 3,500 people. The projection booth was located on the first balcony. A complete signal system had been installed for communicating with the workers on the stage. It was the most complete and elaborate setup that I had the privilege of enjoying during all my experience with the drama. The slides and the motion pictures alternated, and the operator needed contact not only with the stagehands but also with those who were operating the phonograph in the orchestra pit just in front of the stage, and in this installation everything was complete.

As one entered the auditorium and occupied a seat, all he saw in front of him was a large red plush curtain. This covered a white curtain behind it, on which the pictures were to be projected. As the "show" started the operator flashed a cross and crown projection of a slide onto this plush curtain, the stagehands raised the curtain, and there the cross and crown appeared on the white curtain. It was somewhat a blot against the skill of the operator if he allowed that white curtain to be seen during the progress of the picture.

Those operating the phonograph, or the talking part of the drama, waited for their signal from the picture projectionist before starting their machine. At certain intervals a gong would sound from the record and this was the signal for the operator to change slides. The operator, of course, had a complete list of the slides, each one having a number, and he followed this list in keeping synchronized with the phonograph.

I was there well ahead of time on the first day and observed the incoming people as I waited for the hour when the afternoon program was to start. To my great surprise, on a weekday afternoon at least 1,500 people showed up to see the pictures. That evening the auditorium was filled to capacity with 3,500 people, and this was repeated every day for four weeks in succession. One of the great thrills of all my Christian experience was to observe the people pouring into that great auditorium, because I knew that they would receive a good witness to the truth.

The Finale

At the conclusion of the showing of the drama in each city, there would be what was called the grand finale. This was the appearance of one of the better public speakers, who would give two discourses, these being illustrated by selections from the drama. Brother A.H. MacMillan was the one assigned to give the grand finale discourses in Chicago.

One of the motion pictures of the drama was known as "The Shunammite’s Son." This picture showed the death of the Shunammite’s son and also his resurrection. In the grand finale this picture would be used. It would be shown down to the point where the boy dies on his mother’s lap. This we did in Chicago, and I gave the signal and the big plush curtain came down over the picture while the boy was dying. Then it was time for Brother MacMillan to continue his discourse, but no Brother MacMillan was in sight. The audience waited uneasily, and finally Brother MacMillan crawled out from underneath the big curtain. He had been standing too far back on the stage and was caught behind it! A big laugh went up from the audience. Brother MacMillan cracked a joke over the incident, and the show went on. Later, I was running the drama in Toronto, Ontario, when Brother Russell was the grand finale speaker, but he didn’t get caught behind the curtain. The auditorium in Chicago was packed to capacity for both of the grand finale discourses.

On the Road Again

My assignment being completed in Chicago, I was put back on the road, this time not as an operator of part four but as an installer of equipment. My first assignment was at Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where I later learned that the attendance at the drama was exceptionally good. Many, many years later I talked with a brother who at that time was an elder in the Milwaukee class (he has since finished his course in death), and I asked him what the results of the drama showing in Milwaukee turned out to be. He told me that so far as he knew he was the only one out of the thousands who attended who became interested in the truth. But the result was much better in many other places than in Milwaukee.

From Milwaukee I went to a location midway between St. Paul and Minneapolis, Minnesota, and installed the equipment there. I did not remain for the showing of the drama, but I understand they also had a good attendance. Then I moved on to Winnipeg, Manitoba. There the city provided only alternating current, but there was a piece of equipment on the market which converted alternating current to direct current, and since direct current projected a better picture, a brother in Winnipeg who was in the electrical business said he would furnish this piece of equipment. It was called a mercury arc rectifier.

On the Sunday morning when the drama was to open in the afternoon, all those concerned were at the theater early to install the equipment, including the electrician brother who came with his mercury arc rectifier and proceeded to set it up back stage. He was doing the necessary wiring, and I was doing mine in the projection booth. We had no communication between us and, unfortunately, I threw a switch, and the current from the building got through to him, seizing him so tightly by the hands that not until I heard his hollering for help and shut off the electricity did he fall to the floor and start to laugh. In any case, the show went on as scheduled that afternoon, with the mercury arc rectifier doing its called-for work. I learned later that the attendance in Winnipeg was excellent, for which I rejoiced. At Winnipeg I received a telegram from headquarters in Brooklyn to return there at once.

There were no airplanes in those days, so I was faced with a long train ride-a ride which today would seem deplorable to the younger generation. I rode from Winnipeg to Brooklyn by way of Toronto and Niagara Falls. At Niagara Falls, New York, the train was held up for immigration inspection. The inspector who came into the car in which I was riding asked the usual questions, finally getting to the one, "What is your employment?" I explained to him that I was a home missionary worker employed by the Watchtower Society in Brooklyn, New York.

That aroused the inspector’s curiosity, and probably even doubts. For weeks I had been handling motion picture equipment and my hands, and face too, probably, were far from clean. And in addition to this I had been on the train for four days and the clothing I was wearing was disheveled and probably showed signs of wear. You could almost read the question that passed through his mind, "Is it possible that a man like this is a home missionary worker?" But we continued talking, and despite my dirty hands and face they finally decided that I should be permitted to cross the border into the United States.

Arriving at Brooklyn the next day, I inquired of Brother C.J. Woodworth, who was managing the film operation of the Photo Drama, as to why he had brought me from Winnipeg back to New York. He explained that they had made arrangements to send the Photo Drama of Creation into my old home territory, which was Nova Scotia, and that he thought I would be glad to serve as the picture operator on that assignment. I expressed my appreciation and told him I would be glad to do so.

I explained further that I had become engaged to a sister who was one of the phonograph operators and one of the special group whom Brother Russell had appointed to select the music for the Photo Drama. I said that I would appreciate it if we could get married and she could accompany me; but I did not want that, nor did she, if it would disrupt the work. He replied that it would work out just fine; that a phonograph operator had to go along anyway, and it might as well be one of my own preference.

At the time there was one of the General Conventions of the Watchtower being held at Asbury Park, New Jersey; so we attended the remainder of that convention and then arranged to be married before we went away on our trip. Ordinarily we would have asked Brother Russell to perform the ceremony for us, but he was away, so we asked Brother Henry Clay Rockwell. It was a private wedding, and almost as soon as it was over we boarded a train for the first stop on our new schedule, which was London, Ontario.

I served as operator and setup man on this entire trip. Our next stop was Toronto, Ontario, then Bellville, Ontario, and from there we went directly to my home town in Nova Scotia, which was Berwick.

Berwick was a small village, and probably still is today. My father’s sawmill was there, and he had a dream that one day he would be able to furnish electric lights to all the people in Berwick. With this end in view, on setting up the mill he arranged for an extra large power unit which consisted of a fifty horsepower steam engine. My father’s dream never came true, largely probably because the citizens of the village were reluctant to spend their money to wire their homes, but when we got there with the drama we realized that if there was to be a showing of the drama, we had to have electricity.

Brother Samuel Baker accompanied me, and together we thought of the power plant in the sawmill. We made some investigations and found that we could secure temporarily the necessary equipment which we could hook to that plant and supply ourselves the needed electric current, which we did, including enough wire to run across the fields to the auditorium which, as one sister expressed it, was "only a biscuit throw away."

The drama went on according to schedule and we moved on to other towns in Nova Scotia and traveled all the way to the eastern-most part, which was Cape Breton Island. There we had a very successful showing of the Drama, both from the standpoint of attendance at the time and also from the standpoint of sustained interest.

From Cape Breton Island we went back to London, Ontario, the starting point of this schedule, and there found, to our great joy, that in the few months which had elapsed since we were there the first time, new interest had developed in the truth, and we were entertained in the home of brethren who had received the truth on our first visit to London.

We then returned to Brooklyn, and about the first morning at the breakfast table Brother Russell announced the dismissal of seventy workers, the reason being lack of funds to keep the work going. He asked Sister Woodworth and me to stay, however, and afterward explained that he would like to have us experiment with various ways of making the drama support itself. We did this, but failed all along the line.

And while Brother Russell still wanted us to remain in the service at Brooklyn, with Sister Woodworth’s failing health we felt it better not to do so. Our last showing of the drama in the experimental arrangements was at Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. From there we went to Wilmington, Delaware, where we set up housekeeping and I got a job. Brother Samuel Baker came and lived with us for a time.

Waiting on the Lord

AFTER several years of activity in the Lord’s vineyard, it was difficult to settle down with the thought that never again would we have the privilege of full-time service for the Lord; so there began a period of watchful waiting, endeavoring all the while to discern the Lord’s providences in all of our experiences. During this period of waiting on the Lord we did have some outstanding experiences. One of these was attending the funeral service of our Brother Benjamin H. Barton. This would have been a privilege in itself, but it was doubly rewarding to us because Brother Russell conducted that service. It was good to see Brother Russell again and also encouraging to note the way he presented the truth and applied its principles to the faithfulness of our dear Brother Barton.

Brother Barton had very poor physical vision. It was difficult for him even to read the Bible when he was giving his lectures. Brother Russell referred to this and compared it to the spiritual vision of this faithful man of God. In doing this he used a text from the Bible-Isa 33:17. This is a reference to some of the blessings enjoyed by the righteous, and in that particular verse we read that their "eyes shall see the King in his beauty: they shall behold the land that is very far off." Brother Russell referred eloquently to Brother Barton’s great spiritual vision. Through the truth he did, indeed, see the King in his beauty, and he saw that glorious new earth, made new through the kingdom of Christ. This is a blessing which all the truly consecrated and faithful servants of the Lord have the privilege of enjoying.

That new land of glory in the kingdom is not now so far off as it was when Brother Barton saw it by the eye of faith, and we rejoice today to realize that the time is indeed short when together we will enjoy association with the King in his beauty and have the privilege of living and reigning with him a thousand years.

Brother Russell’s Service

During those days of waiting we also had the privilege of attending Brother Russell’s funeral service in the New York City Temple. And how we rejoiced in his keen spiritual vision and his ability to make known to us what he saw! Little had I realized when I was assisting in the work of decorating the New York City Temple that within two years I would be sitting in that auditorium attending the funeral service of that great man of God who had the vision and the faith to have that structure prepared in which so many faithful witnesses were given for Jesus and for the Word of God.

There was also a funeral service for Brother Russell in Pittsburgh, and this is where his mortal remains were laid to rest.

Imprisonment

During the days of waiting in Wilmington, a somewhat startling development occurred in truth circles. The directors of the work at that time-at least seven of them-were arraigned, tried for disloyalty to the United States Government, and imprisoned in a federal penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. Shortly after this, what remained of the Watchtower work was moved to Pittsburgh.

Looking at this entire situation only as we could through human eyes, it seemed to us that the Lord’s harvest work in the earth had just about come to a close. We rejoiced as we looked back upon the opportunities that had been ours, but now we were reminded of the feelings of the Jewish people when taken captive to Babylon. We read of them that they wept when they remembered Zion.

True, in Wilmington at the time there was a medium-sized group of Bible students with whom we fellowshipped when we could, and we were encouraged by the fact that while we were with them several new ones came into the class. This rejoiced our hearts but made us long all the more for the good old days when we enjoyed wider fields of service.

Exit to Freedom

IN THE year 1923 I accepted an invitation to re-enter the service as it was then managed from Brooklyn, New York. The brethren who had been put in prison for supposed disloyalty to the government were now released, and the headquarters of the work re-established in Brooklyn. Having become a machinist while in Wilmington, my first assignment at Brooklyn was the upkeep of the machinery which was used in printing the Society’s literature. But as matters worked out, I did not occupy that position very long.

Just before I left Wilmington one of the brethren took me to the home of one of his friends who had acquired a radio set. I was there long enough to hear a radio program from Gimbel Brothers Department Store in Philadelphia. Soon after I arrived in Brooklyn the Society became interested in this new method of communication and began construction of the necessary buildings, including a home from which to operate it. It wasn’t long before the first program went on the air. Music became an important feature of programming, and the Society decided to form an orchestra to participate in this.

At home as a boy and teenager I joined in the music as we could make it as a family. My mother played an old foot-pumped organ and, together with my sisters and father, sang. We brothers all learned to play instruments of one kind or another, and as a rule we spent our Sunday evenings singing and playing hymns. At that time I chose the trumpet; so when I learned that an orchestra was to be formed at Bethel, I volunteered as a trumpet player.

Our orchestra, when completed, consisted of eighteen pieces. We had more trumpets than we needed, so I volunteered to learn to play the slide trombone. I well remember one evening when we were playing over the radio station that the leading trumpet player, who was sitting beside me, was struggling with a difficult piece of music. I knew that a certain note was a difficult one to produce properly, and when he neared that note I offered up a prayer to God to help him do it correctly. (He made it!) I mention this merely to indic