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ELAM FRANKLIN DEMPSEY
(Georgia)
"I was born -- this is Elam Franklin
Dempsey -- as Benjamin Franklin, that great old sage of America. As for
the Dempsey part, I always say that it is the same as Jack Dempsey,
spelled the same way, so there is no further difficulty there. Elam
Franklin Dempsey. I was born July 6, 1878, in Atlanta, Georgia, Tattnall
Street, the Peachtree of that day, in my grandfather's house. My
grandfather's name was John Durant Smith. My parents lived in Dodge
County, and for a season my father lived in a place bearing his own name,
Dempsey, Georgia. He was engaged in the crosstie trade, manufacturing and
selling them, and therefore he traveled a good bit, living between Georgia
and Florida. We lived here and there between north Florida and Georgia.
His health breaking down around 1880, he was forced to give up his
occupation, and had to move to Jackson, Georgia, near Indian Springs, the
water of which is a specific, as you may know, for malarial diseases. He
lived there thirty-seven years, raising four children.
"My oldest sister was named Irene, the second, Ernestine, who is now
teaching English at Girls' High School, here in Atlanta. My brother,
Thomas Jackson Dempsey, Junior, is in the education department of Georgia,
a well-known supervisor-inspector of schools under Dr. Collins. He is next
to Dr. Collins in rank. I'd be glad if you'd interview him sometime. He's
a man who, though well-known in some circles, is not as much recognized as
his ability and accomplishments warrant. Of course, he's younger than I
am, and hasn't had as much time to make himself known. He lives at
Watkins, Georgia, but works and has his office in the State Capitol.
"I just happened to think of it, if you will look at the Memoirs of
Georgia you will see a sketch of my father.
"Both my parents were natives of Cobb County. My father was Thomas Jackson
Dempsey, son of Reverend A. G. Dempsey -- Reverend Alvin Green Dempsey.
I've often wondered how the Alvin and the Green came into the Dempsey
family, but I haven't done the necessary research yet to find out. My
mother was Narcissa America Smith -- N a r c i s s a. It's a peculiar
old-fashioned name, and my mother never liked it. But we all loved its
old-fashioned sound.
"Now, going back. We were at Butts County, where we lived many years. My
father had a large mercantile business there, and other businesses, and
was also a lawyer. Later he went to Florida, and at the age of
seventy-five was elected Judge of the Supreme Court there, and won
flattering praise for his excellent handling of the somewhat involved
Florida law. He was never reversed on a single judgment, and only one was
ever questioned, and everybody said that he was right on that.
"My father was a very aggressive man. I'm not very much like him in that
-- unless you put me under pressure. My grandmother used to say of him,
'He's like Job's war horse. He sniffs a battle from afar, and rushes into
battle.'
"At Jackson I had the usual experience of going through grammar school and
then through high school. I had fine teachers, and I do appreciate good
teachers and good preachers! My pastors were very lovely to me, also. One
of them I would like to mention in particular. Reverend John L. Bowden. I
remember him reverently. I remember him, giving me counsel many times.
Once he said, 'My boy, a man ought not to preach to study in the pulpit,
but should preach from the standpoint of study.' By that he meant that one
shouldn't use the pulpit for experimenting, but should study diligently
before preaching. I loved and honored him, and when he died I had the
honor to write the memoirs of his life. I'd love to name all the pastors,
but of course, that would take too long.
"Well, to get back to school. We didn't have, in those days, a formal
kindergarten. But we were fortunate in having a lady -- Miss Eva Sassnitt,
daughter of William Sassnitt, with us. She was an intellectual and devout
woman, and had that enthusiasm of a teacher (which is the most valuable
attribute of a teacher). She was my first teacher, and was more or less in
charge of schools there. Then a schoolhouse was built at Jackson, where I
first went to school. We were fortunate in being one of the earlier of the
counties to have a good school.
"Professor Blasingame, I remember, Professor J. C. Blasingame, and
Professor Troy Kelley, constituted the faculty that early gave shape to
the school. . . . . . A typical day in school: First, in the large
auditorium, in the morning we had chapel for Bible-reading and exercises.
There would be comment, sometimes by the visitors, if any were present, on
the Bible reading of the day, then there would be singing from a
well-chosen hymn book. Professor Blasingame, who was always enthusiastic
about music, would lead the singing.
"It was the privilege of Jackson High School to have a series of talks
each year by visitors -- well-known men, whose talks would inspire us and
counsel us to make something of ourselves. For instance, Doctor Quigg, a
Scotch divine, lectured on his experiences in Cuba, and his lecture was
one of the most impressive of the series. Another man I remember was
Marcus W. Beck, a native of Jackson. He gave many talks, and sedulously
prepared for these addresses. He came to us with inspiring remarks, and
filled us with aspiration for great things. It was natural that a man of
such wonderful gifts and ability should advance rapidly, and I was not
surprised when he became a Justice of the Superior Court.
I remember one day seeing him walking under the large oak trees along the
walk on the sunlit sand. It was one of these beautiful Georgia mornings
that we have, and the sunlight was coming down through the leaves of the
trees, making a pattern of checkered light and shade -- a beautiful sight.
He was absorbed in his meditations, and wasn't aware that anyone was
watching.
I saw him, though, gesturing vigorously, and walking soberly along. It was
inspiring to me. I know that he was preparing another one of his fine
talks. I said to myself, 'Here is a man who expects to be somebody. He is
willing to pay the price, and works hard.' I'll never forget the picture
of him striding down the walk of white sand, overshadowed by tremendous
oak trees, through which the sunlight filtered down.
"We had some remarkable people in Jackson. Old Dr. Anderson, for instance.
Nobody knew anything about him, or where he came from. He just appeared
out of nowhere, before the railroad came, even. He was a man who had had
considerable tragedy in his life, and he took refuge in his books. He was
a very eccentric man, a very smart man. He was the one my father studied
law under. The people of the famous Will N. Harbin were also there in
Jackson.
. . . . . . "But you want a typical day in school, and I got off on this
side track . . . . After chapel we went to recitations again, then we had
mid-morning recess, playing games, and so forth. Let's see if I remember
any of those games. Of course, there was the craze over marbles that was
current then, and top-spinning -- knulling tops, it was called -- and
races. We waxed quite ambitious in our athletic program. Some of the boys
got two ropes and tied them to high limbs, and they would swing way out
with them. Sometimes they would put a little fellow on it and swing him
way around, until finally he had to let go and do a belly-buster. I always
hated to see them do that. Sometimes the little boys would get on the
swings themselves, and fall off. They shouldn't have done it. But a young
boy is ambitious, you know, and they didn't think about the consequences.
I used to get after the big boys for picking on the little ones, and one
time I had a fight about it. One of the big boys was teasing and bullying
a little boy. He wasn't really mean, but just the bullying kind. I said to
him that I'd give him a licking if he did anything to the little fellow
again, and of course, that was the invitation he was waiting for. The
bully got behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and said, 'Elam will
take care of him; yes old Elam'll take care of him.' When he jumped on the
boy again I hit him. I had a negro friend who had told me something about
fighting, and he had said to kick his shins. I didn't realize as fully as
I should have that he could kick my shins, too. It was a game two could
play, and his shoes were heavier than mine. For days after that my shins
were sore. I made up my mind that the shoe business wouldn't work, and I
took care to use another method next time. I wasn't really a belligerant
boy, but I didn't like to see anybody picked on. All this fighting took
place at the morning recess.
"At noon most of us went home for
dinner, for most of us lived there in town. We came back and had
recitations again, and the afternoons did seem long! We stayed till four
o'clock, usually. Then there would be those, sometimes, who were kept in.
That was bad on the teachers and the pupils, too. There was recognition of
fidelity in marks, sometimes based on a hundred, sometimes on ten.
We had a debating society, which would rise, flourish, and fail. Then we'd
have declamation time, being very ambitious and anxious to be Daniel
Websters and Thomas Paines. We would get together in groups in the fields,
far enough from one another so that we wouldn't disturb each other, and
practice. We didn't know anything about platform posture, gesturing, and
so forth, though, and it was mainly main strength and awkwardness. We
could holler loud, though, and we did. When anybody had advanced to the
point where he could be heard clear across the village he was thought to
be very good.
Sometimes in vacation time we put on exercises, and had debates. And it
did us good, too. That old time custom contributed to civic thinking, and
taught us to think on our feet and get up before the public and put our
thoughts into words. I've noticed that those who excelled at those things
have done well in life since then.
"There was a lady who taught music at the school -- mandolin, guitar, and
violin. We had a very musical group in Jackson, Georgia. Professor
Blasingame took a large part in the musical activities.
"The young men and women who went away from Jackson represented us well.
Major Woodward, of G. M. A.; Professor Henry F. Fletcher; Douglas Watson,
of Gordon Institute; and O. L. Thaxton, of G. S. C. W., are some of the
men who have gone out into the world from Jackson and made good.
"In September, after my sixteenth birthday, I entered Junior College and
went two years. My schooling was interrupted by ill health, and I stopped
out and stayed one year on the farm. I have always been glad that I did,
for it improved my health and helped me to be strong. In June, 1899, I
graduated, having had the pleasure of being three years under Bishop
Candler. I graduated, though, under Dr. C. E. Dowman. At college, in spite
of ill health, I was champion debater, and was editor of the Phoenix. I
entered every debate they had. At that time Mrs. Corra White Harris was my
Sunday School teacher. You know Mrs. Harris, the famous Georgia author.
She was at that time wife of the Greek professor at Emory, Professor L. H.
Harris, and as always, her mind scintillated with wit and shrewd
understanding. I spent many an evening with her and others, enjoying their
conversation and learning. I never enjoyed anything more than those
informal gatherings where we discussed all the things I had been
interested in for so long. I simply ate it up.
"During my college life I tried to take part in all the various activities
-- the religious, social, athletic, and all of them. I was especially
interested in debating.
"I thought that a person in college should get a well-rounded education
and culture, and I set out to do this. I didn't lay particular stress on
the social activities, though I was a member of the A.T.O. Fraternity.
"The incentive I had at Emory was not personal ambition, but to please my
father and mother. I was so sickly that the work was very taxing on me,
but I knew that for me to do well would give them joy, and that was the
happiest part of it for me.
"There at college all the books I had longed to have the opportunity to
read were at hand, and I read them incessantly. I read everything --
Balzac, even. Ought not to have read some I did, perhaps, but I didn't
know, and I gloried in the opportunity of having so many books at hand. In
this atmosphere of books and learning at Emory I was in paradise. I was a
very ardent fiction reader, but I had read that one must not be desultory
in his reading, and I decided to limit myself to only one book of fiction
at a time, and finally cut them out altogether.
"I can tell you, though, I stuck my tooth into one thing that was hard to
handle. Mrs. Harris had recommended to me the Journal of Amiel, Journal
Intime, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward. It is a book of philosophical
thoughts that Amiel jotted down -- deep meditations on many subjects ....
Talk about Attic Salt, talk about Ambrosial Nights, we had them in Oxford,
Georgia, there at little Emory!
"My college friendships have been very precious to me. My roommate was G.
M. Eakes. He was like a brother to me. We were inseperables, and deskmates
back in Jackson before going to college. He was my good guide and
counselor and helped me on many an occasion. He loved me truly, and I him.
He meant much to me.
"When I was in the Freshman class in college an incident occurred which
was rather amusing, which involved Eakes. He was persuaded by the rest of
the boys to co-operate with them in scaring me. We didn't have any regular
hazing then, but usually a new boy would be initiated in some manner by
the older students. Well, they had decided to play the "dumbull" on me,
which is tying a string on a nail stuck under the clapboard of a house and
then rosining it and stroking it. It produces a weird sound, sometimes
high and screeching, and sometimes low and ominous. Well, Eakes, being my
roommate, was appointed to talk to me that night and get me properly in
the mood to be scared. He began telling me all kinds of weird things about
the effect of such a sound. I wasn't much impressed, however, and said
that it was just silly. Well, we went to bed, and presently the noise
began. We awoke, and Eakes asked me if I heard it. 'Yes,' I said, 'it
sounds rather silly, doesn't it?' Then I turned over and went back to
sleep and didn't wake up anymore that night. But Eakes told me later that
he was kept awake half the night by the dumbull that was supposed to
frighten me. He told the other boys about it the next morning, and one of
them said, 'Well, I told them all the time that you couldn't do anything
with that ugly old gangling, old long-legged devil!' I was long and
awkward and thin then.
"Later in life, when I was started on my way upward he befriended me time
and again, and took me about with him to various churches and let me help
him in evangelical work. I surely went through agonies to get up sermons
and arguments for those services. I was just out of college, and it is not
easy to get on to making a good sermon. A preacher has got to not only lay
down a proposition, but he must argue it, apply it, persuade and admonish,
and close with a definite and earnest proposition.
"I could tell you many episodes of that part of my experiences. After we
closed the meetings we would all go off somewhere and have a houseparty
and relax before going into the next series of evangelical services. My
good friend, Reverend G. M. Eakes, who was my roommate at Oxford,
entertained a number of pastors once, and during my stay there I had a
great deal of pleasure in going through his large library. I remember one
volume particularly, a volume of James Whitcomb Riley, in which was a poem
called THE PIPES O' PAN OF ZEKESBURY, and I read and reread it many times,
I became so infatuated with it. I didn't try to memorize it, but I found
the other day that I remembered it word for word. I amazed myself by
quoting it line for line, all the nine stanzas:
(Quotes poem)
"Well, I've been blessed with a good memory, but I was much surprised at
myself. The memory, I think has been depreciated lately too much --
probably because in former years it was rated too high. Not enough
attention in given to cultivating it. The memory is handmaiden to all our
faculties. What could you do if you lost your memory? Why, if you couldn't
remember, you would lose even your personal identity. When I was a young
boy I used to memorize just for the pleasure of it all the examples of
correct English given in Hart's Readers. My mother, seeing me interested
in cultivating my memory, suggested that I learn some hymns. I took her
suggestion, and have always been grateful for it, for I still remember
them. And I have been able to remember many Bible verses because of a good
memory.
"And speaking of the Bible, do you know that there is not a book in the
Bible that is not built on some other book? That shows that there was one
supervisory intelligence for the whole work. Most people think that the
Pentateuch is difficult to account for on the score of literary sources.
But this need not perplex if one will notice such passage as the second
half of Exodus, Seventeen, and such like scriptures. It is evident from
these that writing and keeping records was a matter entirely familiar to
the Hebrews in charge of the migration of the Jews in the Wilderness.
"I graduated, and then joined the conference in Lagrange, Georgia,
following the life of an itinerant minister. Later, I graduated from
Vanderbilt, in 1906, and it was my privilege to deliver on that occasion
the address representing the department. Bishop Hendricks was on the
platform. In november, 1909, it was Bishop Hendricks who presided over
conference, and he gave me an appointment to Trinity Church, here in
Atlanta. Later, he was helpful to me in writing the life of Bishop Haygood.
"When I entered the ministry I felt very strongly that I had to be
mentally honest, and wanted to go into the Biblical problems deeply. Not
all men feel that way, and I pass no judgment or criticism on those. I
want to make that plain. But for myself, I knew that I had to study a
great deal before I could satisfy myself on the various Biblical
questions.
"I wanted to get more education to broaden my knowledge, and I requested
Bishop Hendricks to appoint me a student to Vanderbilt University. I
always believed, like Dr. Lovick Pierce, father of Bishop Pierce, said,
that a call to preach is a call to get ready to preach. After graduating
from Vanderbilt I returned to Georgia, and married Georgia Roger Hunnicutt,
the daughter of James B. Hunnicutt. We have not been blessed with
children, but my wife still lives, and blesses my life.
'"My first charge in the preaching line was in the city mission in
Atlanta. Then I served circuits and stations in North Georgia Conference
and was appointed to Trinity Church in 1910. I was Dean of the Theology
Department at Emory from 1914 to 1918; pastor at Athens, First Methodist
Church; Rome, First Church; and was Secretary-treasurer of the Christian
Education Movement to 1926, and was presiding elder of the Oxford district
from 1926 to 1930. From 1932 to 1934 I was pastor at Madison, and from
1934 to 1936 at the First Methodist Church in Toccoa, Georgia.
"At present I have been given a sabbatical year to complete and publish
the life of Bishop Haygood, which his family requested me to write some
time ago.
"My comment on my record of varied service is that no one is more
surprised at its character than I. My expectations when I left college --
and I fully expected that and nothing more -- was to be pastor of a
church. It came as a great surprise -- and almost alarm to me -- when I
saw I was being called in phases of service somewhat different from that
detached work. But it was the call of Providence and the voice of the
Church, and it would have been presumptuous of me to refuse. I have tried
as best I could to serve in these various fields.
"Among other things I have been trustee of various institutions -- Holmes
Institute, Emory College, Emory University. I was trustee at Emory for ten
years. I have also served in that capacity for Reinhardt College, Lagrange
College for Women. Others have invited me to serve, but those are the ones
I served.
"I was secretary of the Christian Education Movement during many periods,
and one year I raised $100,000. I'll tell you how that happened. I was
within fifteen hundred dollars of that goal when conference met. I looked
about and found that Mr. Samuel Candler Dobbs was in the city. Knowing his
love for this cause, I called to see him and stated the case to him. In a
very kind manner he said, 'Is that all you need?' I replied, 'Yes, sir,
that will bring me to my desired goal.' Without further ado he wrote me a
check for fifteen hundred dollars. You can imagine with what eagerness I
returned to conference, and after getting the Bishop's recognition, stated
that here in my hand -- holding it aloft - was the last fifteen-hundred
dollars on a total of one hundred thousand dollars for the Christian
Education Movement. I was very happy, and the whole audience cheered and
applauded loudly.
"I taught in the college at Oxford for several years, and enjoyed my life
and associations there greatly. It was very pleasant to be with the young
men and help them as much as I could to understand some fundamentals of
Biblical study. One of the things I think important is the ability to
speak and enunciate clearly. I don't know whether my enunciation is clear,
but I've been told it was. At Oxford, in one of my Bible courses I
referred in a lecture to Aaron's budded rod -- you remember the story of
his rod bursting into bloom. When examination time came one of the boys
used in an answer to a question a reference to Aaron's butted rod! I don't
know whether he was being facetious, or whether he understood it that way.
"I never had any trouble keeping discipline in my classes, and I didn't
have to scare the boys into behaving, either. I tried to be more subtle.
One afternoon, I remember, a boy was sitting with his feet propped up on
the seat of the desk in front of him. It was a very hot, long summer
afternoon, and the students were naturally restless, but of course I
couldn't allow that. There was a professor at Emory once who used to show
the soles of his feet while he lectured, but I don't approve of that kind
of conduct. I wanted to call the boy's attention to his position, but I
didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I looked straight ahead, at the wall
in the back of the room, so that really I wasn't looking at anyone in
particular, and yet it seemed that I might be looking toward any student
in the room.
"I said, 'I have been reading in a magazine recently an article entitled
The Upward Tendency of the Foot.' Quick as a flash the boy took his feet
down, and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing, but naturally I
couldn't afford to smile even.
"Another way I had of keeping them in hand was, if I saw a young fellow
slack up in his work, to ask him to come by the desk when class was
adjourned. For instance, one of the boys might have been making poor
grades in one of the subjects, when I knew that he could do better.
"At the adjournment of class," I would say, 'I would like for Mr. Brown to
stop by my desk. Class is adjourned.' I would wait until all the others
were gone, then I would turn to the boy and say to him, 'Mr. Brown, do you
think you are doing your duty fully by this subject?' He wouldn't know
what to say, usually, but would hem and haw and shift from one foot to the
other. 'That's enough, sir,' I would tell him. 'I'm sure it will not be
necessary to again call your attention to this matter.'
"I didn't believe in embarrassing pupils, as some teachers do. I contend
that a pupil usually wants to do well in his studies and maintain good
conduct if he gets the proper appreciation from his teachers.
"One of the tenderest little episodes I remember happened at big Emory
while I was teaching there. I think the subject of the class in which this
occurred was Church History, or some such study. It was not a major, and
many laymen elected the course -- maybe because they thought it was a "crip"
course, I don't know. Well, anyway, one day I was a few minutes late to
class, but not more than five at the most. When I got to the classroom,
however, the door seemed to be locked. I pushed upon it and found that a
chair had been propped against it from the inside, anchored under the
doorknob -- you know how it's done. Well, I just pushed the door on open
as if nothing had happened, and quietly set the chair aside. I made no
reference to the incident, but went on with the class as usual. Years
after that I received a letter from a man in Texas, well-established in
business, and he said that he was the one who had propped the chair
against the door. It was purely in a spirit of fun, he said, but it had
been on his conscience ever since, and he was much struck with the smooth
and gentle way in which I treated the incident. I appreciated that, and
thought it was a beautiful episode in my life.
"A minister meets a variety of people and personalities in his work. There
was Mr. Dodd, who was a member of the congregation of my first church. His
daughter, Nellie Dodd, had died a little while before, while still very
young and beautiful, and he donated money to the church to build a chapel
to her memory. He was a business magnate of the city, and an influential
citizen, and I called on him one day to ask him advice about making the
year's church work successful. Mr. Dodd -- Mr. Green T. Dodd -- was a
bluff, hearty man, and he said, 'Why just go out there and start throwing
rocks and killing snakes!' Of course, he was using snakes as a symbol of
sin. Somebody once said, 'Don't dig up more snakes than you can kill,' and
that's pretty good advice, too. Mr. Dodd was a judgmatical man, and he
proved a wise man and counselor for me all during my stay at that church.
"In the membership of what has grown to be Oakland City Baptist Church
there was a delightful Irish family. Their home was a delightful place for
the young minister. They had a picturesque way of saying, 'Our name is
Shannon, and we are as Irish as the Shannon River.'
"There was quite a little romance to the family, as I learned after
knowing them a while. When Mr. and Mrs. Shannon were young they lived in
Ireland and were childhood sweethearts, but their parents opposed their
marriage. Mr. Shannon soon came to America, and married a lady over here.
The girl married someone else and lived in India several years. It
happened that both Mr. Shannon's wife and the girl's husband died at
nearly the same time, and they both went back to Ireland for a visit, of
course quite without knowing anything of the other. They met again in
Ireland and fell in love all over, married, and came back to America. They
are a lovely family, and have some fine children. I have spent many
pleasant hours with them.
"One of the most amusing little episodes occurred at Jefferson during a
testimonial meeting in church. The meeting was well in progress, and
several people had gotten up and made statements to the congregation. We
had a lady musician who played the organ for us, and this lady had a
peculiar habit of sitting up very rigid and straight while she was
playing. She would not sway her body or turn her head, but would turn the
whole body at once on the organ stool. During a lull in the service she
whirled about very suddenly on the stool, looking like a marionette in a
puppet show. "Brothers and Sisters,' she said, 'I just feel like I'm a
settin on the stool of do-nothin''. It was very funny, the way it all
happened, and many people had a job of it to keep from laughing.
"Very beautiful incidents occurred too. One time we were holding revival
services in an old empty store which we rented for a song and used for a
chapel. Right next door was a boarding house, and staying there were some
very elegant people, but they had met sad financial reverses. They had
been a prominent family, but now he avoided his friends because he was
poor, and they hesitated to look him up for fear of embarrassing him.
Finally, at the end of a year, during the time we were holding revival
services next door, he received an offer from a liquor company, which
sought to capitalize on his name and good social connections. They offered
him a handsome salary of two-hundred dollars a month to use his position
to sell liquor to people of the upper classes -- Justices of the Supreme
Court, and such figures as that. He was a conscientious man, and he came
next door to the chapel and asked my advice. 'Brother Dempsey,' he said,
'I just don't know what to do. My wife and children are on the verge of
starvation, and I need a job badly.'
"'Brother,' I said to him, 'God has called you to be righteous, and He
will see you through this crisis. The devil has got you at the lowest ebb,
and offers to buy you for twenty-four hundred dollars. Don't let him do
it.'
"I had ten dollars in my pocket and gave it to him, telling him to stick
it out, and that things would be better soon if he would have faith. About
two years later I was back in the city, and was attending a service where
they were taking up a collection for the superannuated preachers. I wanted
the worst kind to give something, but I was very low financially that
night, and didn't even have a dollar in my pocket. Presently someone
touched me on the sleeve and said that a gentleman wanted to see me
outside. I left the service and went out. There I saw a well-dressed man,
well-poised, and with the very aspect of financial independence and self
respect.
"Brother Dempsey," he greeted me, and I recognized him as the man of two
years before, "I want to give you back the ten dollars you let me have
when I needed it so badly. Due to your advice I did not take the liquor
company's offer, and soon I had a good job as a manger for a respectable
firm."
"I told him to keep the ten dollars and give it to someone else who might
need it, but he said, no, that I would see more people than he would, and
for me to take it back. I took it, and since my heart was very full at
this touching incident, I carried it right up to the front of the church
and added it to the collection for the superannuated preachers. That man
is a well-known citizen of this community today, and his children hold
positions of respect.
"During my days as junior pastor I got one of the keenest rebukes I have
ever received, and I believe that from it I learned a valuable lesson.
Reverend Henry R. Davies was my senior preacher at that time. He was then
about sixty years of age, and broken in health and realty. After having
conducted several sermons for him, and finding the attendance
discouragingly small, I talked with him about it, trying to find out the
reason for the poor showing. I was pretty discouraged, but I said to him:
"Well, at least I can console myself with one thing: I have done my best."
I didn't realize then how Pharisaic it sounded. Wise man that he was,
Reverend Davies let a pause ensue, a silence that could be felt, and then,
catching my eye, he said, 'My boy, could you say that on your knees?'
"And of course I at once saw that the position would make a big
difference. You know, there are few times when a man can say without
qualification that he has done his best.
"During my second year as junior pastor under Reverend Davies I realized
that he was going to have to take the superannuate at the next conference.
He had no home, no house, and no family to go to, and I wondered what
would become of him. Deeply concerned, having come to love him dearly, I
was walking through the village one day and suddenly the thought darted
through my mind, why should not I make the effort to provide that home? I
remember there was a little bridge across the stream beside the road, and
my eye was arrested by a crevice in it. I just stood and regarded this
spot and thought the problem through. 'My Lord,' I said, 'with Your help
I'll do it!' I walked on, determined to do what I could. I went about
among the people who knew Brother Davies, both Methodists and other
denominations, for he had many friends in all the churches, and they all
gave freely to the cause. The idea caught like fire, for the all loved
him. 'Yes,' they all said, 'we know Brother Davies, and we'll be glad to
help.' The Masons were very generous in their contributions. With the
money I collected I was able to buy a lot with a house on it, right in the
center of town, in an ideal location for the old man, for it was near the
post office, the school, and the railroad station. It was perhaps the
first superannuate home ever bought for a retiring preacher. I did read,
later, that such a project had been suggested before in Alabama, but I
don't think it was successful. Now, of course, there is a regular fund for
that purpose, but at that time there was none. He was certainly a fine
man, and I know that if anybody in Heaven is permitted to intercede for
another, he does for me.
"When I was just beginning my career as itinerant minister, I was sent to
____. When I arrived in town I learned of a family of eight boys. I called
upon them, and met their mother. 'Sister Martin,' I said to her, 'I
understand that you are the mother of eight boys.' 'Yes,' she replied,
'and proud of it.' 'And you should be, ' I answered. 'I've come here to
see you to ask you to take care of me too.' 'Why, Brother Dempsey, I don't
see how we can do it.' 'Yes you can,' I said, 'for if you have raised
eight fine sons you know all there is to know about taking care of boys.'
"I was a young man just out of college, and I wanted to be connected with
some family. The boys of that family were fine young fellows, good
sportsmen and masters of woodcraft. It was a great advantage to me to be
allowed to stay with them, for they took me into the woods with them, and
the exercise and open air did me good, for I was still frail and sickly.
"One of the boys of that family responded to the call to preach, and years
later he told me that the association with me was the inspiration he got
to serve the church.
"During my stay there in Lumpkin County (?) I traveled from church to
church, spending a week in each church community holding "cottage
communions."
I would go from house to house, spreading news that tonight at six-thirty,
say, at one of the nearby houses there would be a prayer meeting held. All
the neighbors who could would come, and sometimes we would have fifty
present, sometimes only five or six. Usually the meetings were held in
houses about five miles apart, so that in that way the whole community
could be covered. I remember one house was way in back in the forest, at
the turn of a small winding road. Way in there was the family of Mr. Ware.
It was a beautiful rural scene there. The surroundings and manner of life
were very much like the old southern home. The house was a one-story frame
structure, with the guest rooms on either side in front, having a veranda
across the front of the house between. In the back was a shed containing
the kitchen and dining room, and of course a smokehouse also. In the front
yard were shrubs such as the old southern farm homes had -- boxwood, cape
jessamine, and such -- and across the road from the house was a beautiful
pasture, in which sheep, horses, cows, and goats grazed. A very pretty
rural sight, indeed. They had everything they needed there at home -
sorghum syrup in barrels, sausage, lard, meal, beans, and other staples in
abundance. There was little money, but they needed little.
"The life of the itinerant minister had its compensations, all right. I
usually traveled by horseback and buggy, often finding it convenient to
ride horseback because of the narrow bridlepaths through the forests. When
I went in the buggy I would often read and study on the way, for my horse
was well broken, and would respond instantly to only a word. There was an
oilcloth for the buggy which kept out the rain, and in real cold weather I
would set a lantern inside to keep me warm. On the bright sunny days I
preferred to ride horseback, or even in summer rains.
"I had a wonderful horse, that had a spirited gait, and I'll tell you it
was thrilling pleasure to gallop through those forests for mile on mile
through the sunlit trees. And then in the summer-rains the horse would
catch the spirit of the ride, and seemed to enjoy feeling the rain slant
down in gusts upon his shining side, tossing his head and running like a
free spirit over the trail. The horse would feel the thrill of the rider's
body, and of course I would get the thrill of his body, and we would have
many an exciting morning. I'll tell you, I asked nothing of any man!
And then sometimes there would be amusing things happen on the road. I
remember an experience I had while still in college. I was going from
Conyers to [?]?[?] , driving a low-swung buggy of my mother's. I was
alone, and as I topped a long, gentle incline such as are found in south
Georgia, I saw a man walking on the left hand side of the road far ahead.
When I caught up with him I pulled rein and asked him to get in and ride.
He got in, not saying a word. After we had ridden for a mile or so he
asked, 'Which one of your churches are you going to?'
"Why, how did you know that I was a preacher?' I asked.
"Oh, I knew that as soon as I saw your buggy top the hill."
"I had always prided myself on not showing my profession, for I preferred
to be merely a man among men, teaching the Word, and not be known only as
a preacher. This shattered that illusion, however. And many incidents have
happened like that since then. Just the other day I was standing on the
corner waiting for the street car, and an old darky came up to me and
said, 'Pardon me, boss, but you's a preacher, ain't you?'
"Yes,' I replied, 'I don't seem to be able to conceal my profession.'
"Yassuh," he laughed, "it marks a man, don't it?"
Oct. 39
Jacques Upshaw
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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