IV
INDUSTRIAL ADAPTATION
1.
It seems that Mormon culture adapts itself as readily to the lives of persons in a highly industrialized community as it does in the more rural economy of the mountain states.
A study of the Northern States Mission area, and of the Chicago stake will illustrate this.
Mormons had been almost completely cleaned out of Illinois during the early persecution of members of the church in the wave of bitter hatred against them that swept up at the time of the murder of Joseph Smith. Even scattered individual families seem to have fled westward to get the feeling and actuality of security that came from being with large bodies of their fellow-believers. As conditions began to settle, a few hardy young missionaries found that they had calls to come back to the area of the persecution of their fathers. Their efforts as a whole were sporadic, and their real value to the church arose from the fact that they were in effect outposts, or scouts, who were able to send back first-hand information concerning the gradual abatement of the high public feeling against the Mormons. They made converts, most of whom drifted on westward to join the more highly developed communities.
This trend toward western migration continued until the comparatively recent organization of the Chicago stake. In westerners, it arose from a feeling that they were sojourners, brought to the industrial community by their scholastic, business, professional or missionary interests. They were naturally eager to fulfill their obligations, or finish their studies and get back home. There was little that the city could offer them that could permanently compete with the thoroughly well-rounded social, religious and economic life in which they had grown up. With converts, there was an urge to get into closer contact with the marvelous civilization that had been unfolded to their view by the acceptance of this way of life. Having learned that they could assure themselves of meeting their dead forebears in another world by their zeal and actions in this one, they desired to live near a temple, where they could perform this and other temple work. Having secured a foretaste of the study, discussion and contemplation of the glories and possibilities laid out for man by God, they were burning to join the circles of brother-priests who were engaged in exploring, probing, sounding, experiencing the ecstasies of holy priesthood that had been thrown open to all men of good repute. Wives and mothers, having discerned that there was a higher conception of the position of women, were keenly interested in joining fully-developed Mormon communities where they could carry on the group activities of their kind, and assure the rearing of their children in precepts of the wider horizon. Young men, having discovered that Mormon young women had learned from infancy a nobler and grander view of the great privileges of motherhood and wifehood, felt impelled to go westward for the sake of selection of wives from the greater group of eligible maidens, before they settled down to build lives and homes.
Members of the church had drifted back to Chicago in sufficient numbers, however, to warrant organized mission activity by 1900.
Ups and downs that have affected the nation since that time have seen a steady average growth in the body of Chicago Mormons. There has been nothing spectacular in this development. On the contrary, it has been a long-view, calculated result of a progressive permanent plan and regular, day-in and day-out hammering at a job to be done. Missionaries have come and gone, each contributing his or her share of inspiration, guidance, and work to the whole picture. Successive mission presidents have faced evolving stages of adaptation to fit local needs, and have passed their experience and the results of their decisions on to others.
Mormonism is administered in Chicago and the surrounding territory by two separate organizations, independent of each other, and each reporting directly to general officers of the church in Salt Lake City, and receiving their guidance in matters of general policy from there. They are the Chicago stake and the Northern States Mission.
Their activities do not conflict, their responsibilities and jurisdictions being clearly defined. Each is supplementary and complementary to the other.
The stake is the organization and government of the local churches and fully organized branches. It and its components are self-supporting and self-governing within the framework of administration, legislation, judiciary action and revelation that constitute the Mormon polity.
The mission has authority over and responsibility for all activities of the church within its geographical limitations that are not immediately concerned with a regularly organized branch or ward that has been assigned to a stake. When the mission has developed and fostered a Mormon group in any part of its territory to the point where it can provide fully its own leadership and sustain itself, the new status of the group is recognized and it is assigned to the nearest stake in which it can be practicably governed and associated in fellowship. It then ceases to be a responsibility of the mission. In a like manner, the mission is empowered to prepare a group of independent wards or branches for status as a stake, which is formally established by the general officers of the church when preparatory work has been completed by the mission.
A study of the Northern States Mission area, and of the Chicago stake will illustrate this.
Mormons had been almost completely cleaned out of Illinois during the early persecution of members of the church in the wave of bitter hatred against them that swept up at the time of the murder of Joseph Smith. Even scattered individual families seem to have fled westward to get the feeling and actuality of security that came from being with large bodies of their fellow-believers. As conditions began to settle, a few hardy young missionaries found that they had calls to come back to the area of the persecution of their fathers. Their efforts as a whole were sporadic, and their real value to the church arose from the fact that they were in effect outposts, or scouts, who were able to send back first-hand information concerning the gradual abatement of the high public feeling against the Mormons. They made converts, most of whom drifted on westward to join the more highly developed communities.
This trend toward western migration continued until the comparatively recent organization of the Chicago stake. In westerners, it arose from a feeling that they were sojourners, brought to the industrial community by their scholastic, business, professional or missionary interests. They were naturally eager to fulfill their obligations, or finish their studies and get back home. There was little that the city could offer them that could permanently compete with the thoroughly well-rounded social, religious and economic life in which they had grown up. With converts, there was an urge to get into closer contact with the marvelous civilization that had been unfolded to their view by the acceptance of this way of life. Having learned that they could assure themselves of meeting their dead forebears in another world by their zeal and actions in this one, they desired to live near a temple, where they could perform this and other temple work. Having secured a foretaste of the study, discussion and contemplation of the glories and possibilities laid out for man by God, they were burning to join the circles of brother-priests who were engaged in exploring, probing, sounding, experiencing the ecstasies of holy priesthood that had been thrown open to all men of good repute. Wives and mothers, having discerned that there was a higher conception of the position of women, were keenly interested in joining fully-developed Mormon communities where they could carry on the group activities of their kind, and assure the rearing of their children in precepts of the wider horizon. Young men, having discovered that Mormon young women had learned from infancy a nobler and grander view of the great privileges of motherhood and wifehood, felt impelled to go westward for the sake of selection of wives from the greater group of eligible maidens, before they settled down to build lives and homes.
Members of the church had drifted back to Chicago in sufficient numbers, however, to warrant organized mission activity by 1900.
Ups and downs that have affected the nation since that time have seen a steady average growth in the body of Chicago Mormons. There has been nothing spectacular in this development. On the contrary, it has been a long-view, calculated result of a progressive permanent plan and regular, day-in and day-out hammering at a job to be done. Missionaries have come and gone, each contributing his or her share of inspiration, guidance, and work to the whole picture. Successive mission presidents have faced evolving stages of adaptation to fit local needs, and have passed their experience and the results of their decisions on to others.
Mormonism is administered in Chicago and the surrounding territory by two separate organizations, independent of each other, and each reporting directly to general officers of the church in Salt Lake City, and receiving their guidance in matters of general policy from there. They are the Chicago stake and the Northern States Mission.
Their activities do not conflict, their responsibilities and jurisdictions being clearly defined. Each is supplementary and complementary to the other.
The stake is the organization and government of the local churches and fully organized branches. It and its components are self-supporting and self-governing within the framework of administration, legislation, judiciary action and revelation that constitute the Mormon polity.
The mission has authority over and responsibility for all activities of the church within its geographical limitations that are not immediately concerned with a regularly organized branch or ward that has been assigned to a stake. When the mission has developed and fostered a Mormon group in any part of its territory to the point where it can provide fully its own leadership and sustain itself, the new status of the group is recognized and it is assigned to the nearest stake in which it can be practicably governed and associated in fellowship. It then ceases to be a responsibility of the mission. In a like manner, the mission is empowered to prepare a group of independent wards or branches for status as a stake, which is formally established by the general officers of the church when preparatory work has been completed by the mission.
2.
The late President Heber J. Grant personally organized the Chicago Mormons into a stake government November 29, 1936.
He selected William Matheson, a manufacturer, as stake president, with John K. Edmunds, Chicago attorney, as first counselor and James N. Astin as second counselor.
Organization of the stake gave a feeling of stability to the Chicago Mormons. Those who had been born in the west ceased to plan their returning to that place, and began to buy homes and settle down with a view to permanent residence. Others, feeling the impact of the gregarious Mormon communities as they filled in around them, began to hope and plan and work toward the day when they could erect their own Chicago temple.
There are four fully developed wards and five branches in the Chicago stake.
Present bishops of the wards are Grover Clyde, a federal food inspector, bishop of the Milwaukee, Wisc. ward, which is a part of the stake; Merrill O. Maughan, executive of an evaporated milk firm, bishop of the North Shore ward; Henry A. Weaver, a teacher who emigrated from Canada, bishop of the Logan square [sic] ward, and Dr. R. Wendell Vance (M. D.) bishop of University ward.
One of the five branches is located on the south side of Milwaukee, another at Racine, Wisc., and the others are in suburban towns near Chicago.
The governing officer of the branch is the president. J. Gilbert Mortensen, a truck firm executive, is president of the Forest Park, Ill. branch. James T. Greer is president of the Aurora, Ill. branch. Henry G. Cryer is president of the Batavia, Ill. branch. William C. Walley heads the Racine, Wisc. branch and Walter Becker is head of the south side Milwaukee branch.
Oldest active congregation in or near Chicago is the Logan Square ward at 2555 North Sawyer street. It occupies the building that it erected in 1912. The group is composed of nearly three-fourths westerners and one-fourth native Chicago converts. The westerners are mostly younger people who are in the metropolis for the purpose of finishing professional studies or work at the several colleges and universities.
The North Shore ward, which is temporarily meeting at a public school building in Evanston, Ill., has amassed a huge building fund and plans soon to erect an edifice valued at more than a quarter of a million dollars. This building will house all activities of the ward group and supply office space for the stake government, the duties of which are expected to expand during the next several years. Membership of this ward is about eighty percent westerners to twenty percent native converts. It contains an unusually heavy percentage of men of the professional and executive classes, compared with congregations of similar size in Protestant and Roman Catholic churches in the same area. Listed among them are two of the city's most successful physicians, and several others of excellent scholarship and background who have more recently come to the Great Lakes area.
University ward owns the building which it erected and now occupies at 6111 South Kenwood, Chicago. Sixty percent of its membership is made up of western stock, while the remainder is native to Chicago.
In the city of Milwaukee, about half of the Mormons are comparatively recent converts from Germany, who first became acquainted with the faith through contact with missionaries sent to their native land from Salt Lake City. One fourth of the unit is of westerners and the rest native to Milwaukee, most of the latter being of more or less German ancestry.
On May 13, 1945, the day before President Grant of the church died, George Albert Smith reorganized the Chicago stake, appointing John K. Edmunds to the stake presidency, with Dr. Ariel L. Williams (M.D.) as first counselor and Henry A. Mates, an engineer, as second counselor. Still very active in the church, Former President Matheson retired to teaching duties in North Shore ward, nearest his home, while the arduous work of the stake presidency moved onto younger shoulders.
President Edmunds is one of Chicago's most outstanding attorneys and law teachers. He possesses the degree of doctor of jurisprudence, and has devoted considerable time to the specialized study of aviation law. He has been practicing in his present location for more than fifteen years. He is a native of Utah and graduated from several schools and colleges there before moving eastward to continue his studies. He served a mission in the New England states before he completed his college work, and is one of a family of four brothers and sisters, all of whom were sent on missions and given college educations.
He selected William Matheson, a manufacturer, as stake president, with John K. Edmunds, Chicago attorney, as first counselor and James N. Astin as second counselor.
Organization of the stake gave a feeling of stability to the Chicago Mormons. Those who had been born in the west ceased to plan their returning to that place, and began to buy homes and settle down with a view to permanent residence. Others, feeling the impact of the gregarious Mormon communities as they filled in around them, began to hope and plan and work toward the day when they could erect their own Chicago temple.
There are four fully developed wards and five branches in the Chicago stake.
Present bishops of the wards are Grover Clyde, a federal food inspector, bishop of the Milwaukee, Wisc. ward, which is a part of the stake; Merrill O. Maughan, executive of an evaporated milk firm, bishop of the North Shore ward; Henry A. Weaver, a teacher who emigrated from Canada, bishop of the Logan square [sic] ward, and Dr. R. Wendell Vance (M. D.) bishop of University ward.
One of the five branches is located on the south side of Milwaukee, another at Racine, Wisc., and the others are in suburban towns near Chicago.
The governing officer of the branch is the president. J. Gilbert Mortensen, a truck firm executive, is president of the Forest Park, Ill. branch. James T. Greer is president of the Aurora, Ill. branch. Henry G. Cryer is president of the Batavia, Ill. branch. William C. Walley heads the Racine, Wisc. branch and Walter Becker is head of the south side Milwaukee branch.
Oldest active congregation in or near Chicago is the Logan Square ward at 2555 North Sawyer street. It occupies the building that it erected in 1912. The group is composed of nearly three-fourths westerners and one-fourth native Chicago converts. The westerners are mostly younger people who are in the metropolis for the purpose of finishing professional studies or work at the several colleges and universities.
The North Shore ward, which is temporarily meeting at a public school building in Evanston, Ill., has amassed a huge building fund and plans soon to erect an edifice valued at more than a quarter of a million dollars. This building will house all activities of the ward group and supply office space for the stake government, the duties of which are expected to expand during the next several years. Membership of this ward is about eighty percent westerners to twenty percent native converts. It contains an unusually heavy percentage of men of the professional and executive classes, compared with congregations of similar size in Protestant and Roman Catholic churches in the same area. Listed among them are two of the city's most successful physicians, and several others of excellent scholarship and background who have more recently come to the Great Lakes area.
University ward owns the building which it erected and now occupies at 6111 South Kenwood, Chicago. Sixty percent of its membership is made up of western stock, while the remainder is native to Chicago.
In the city of Milwaukee, about half of the Mormons are comparatively recent converts from Germany, who first became acquainted with the faith through contact with missionaries sent to their native land from Salt Lake City. One fourth of the unit is of westerners and the rest native to Milwaukee, most of the latter being of more or less German ancestry.
On May 13, 1945, the day before President Grant of the church died, George Albert Smith reorganized the Chicago stake, appointing John K. Edmunds to the stake presidency, with Dr. Ariel L. Williams (M.D.) as first counselor and Henry A. Mates, an engineer, as second counselor. Still very active in the church, Former President Matheson retired to teaching duties in North Shore ward, nearest his home, while the arduous work of the stake presidency moved onto younger shoulders.
President Edmunds is one of Chicago's most outstanding attorneys and law teachers. He possesses the degree of doctor of jurisprudence, and has devoted considerable time to the specialized study of aviation law. He has been practicing in his present location for more than fifteen years. He is a native of Utah and graduated from several schools and colleges there before moving eastward to continue his studies. He served a mission in the New England states before he completed his college work, and is one of a family of four brothers and sisters, all of whom were sent on missions and given college educations.
3.
The spirit of the church is at a high level in the Chicago area.
A sacramental meeting of the North Shore ward, held on a Sunday evening in the latter part of January, 1946, as reported by a non-Mormon who was attending one of these services for the first time in his life, can be taken as typical.
There was not a big congregation present, and as the bishop opened the meeting, and before the leader for the evening took charge, he explained that the lack of attendance was due to the fact that the ladies' choral group had been invited to sing at another church, and husbands of these ladies, naturally, had gone along, too. The weather was bitterly cold, but it was evident that bad weather had not been the reason for the comparatively poor attendance.
The meeting opened with the ancient hymn, "How Firm a Foundation." Then the leader made a simple announcement of the sacramental service. There was no long harangue as to who could or could not partake of the communion sacrament. There was no group confession of sins. There was no groveling and humbling of the dignity of man, either mentally or physically.
The leader designated a song as the sacramental hymn. The congregation sang it sitting down, very much like they would sing a song sitting around a table at home.
At one side, apart, and facing the congregation, sat two priests who were in charge of the sacrament. The leader had selected them at random from the congregation at the beginning of the service. One was a sailor, in uniform. The other was a business man.
At the conclusion of the sacramental hymn, one of the priests kneeled and said a prayer asking the Lord's grace, in much the same manner that he would ask grace at his own table. Then he passed a plate of small pieces of bread to two waiting boys, about fourteen years of age, who were deacons, for distribution among the church members.
Sitting erect in the pride and dignity of being a human being, each member took a piece of the bread and immediately ate it, without ceremony, or genuflexion, or kneeling or bowing of any kind.
The other priest, after the people had eaten, made a plain short exhortation before passing to the young deacons the plates of communion cups filled with pure clear water. And here, perhaps, is the key to the whole Mormon religion. They live to seek out the purer things of life, as exemplified by the purity of the water.
There was no wine, nor was there any despicable compromise with unfermented grape juice. The Mormons not only advise against the use of alcohol in any way, but they actually practice their advice.
After all had eaten and drunk, the two priests covered the communion dishes with a plain white cloth, and that was all there was to the sacramental service, as far as ritual went. Its extreme simplicity carried a terrific emotional wallop. Somehow, it made a man feel that he was mighty close to "That night in which He was betrayed," when "He took bread and brake it." The color, the trappings, ceremoniousness, rich vestments, soft music, people kneeling in humility - all were absent. In their place was just a group of common men and women solemnly and seriously recalling one of the greatest events in the history of mankind.
The almost startling effect, psychologically, of this ultra-simple communion service was to completely obliterate the feeling of supplication and meekness engendered at such a time in many other churches. A man didn't feel that he drew nigh - "Unworthy as to so much as gather up the crumbs from His table" - Not at all! He felt that he sat as an equal and a guest at Jesus' table, and after he had eaten and drunk, he went away with a greater appreciation of his own table, his own body, his own life - all godlike if he would make and keep them so.
Following the partaking of the sacrament, the leader introduced the first of the two speakers for the evening, a man only recently moved into the communityh from an eastern seaboard state.
His talk was short. His theme was the effectiveness of a few who tackled a problem seriously. His message was straightforward and packed with facts. It was not in any way a sermon. Rather, it was an earnest and well-documented moral essay.
"Compared to the population of the world," he said, "the size of our church is small. There is only one of us to about two thousand others, I believe. But that need not deter us from moving forward toward realization of the set of standards established by our church. The weight of every individual is felt in the total. And so, we must live our lives in the knowledge that each one counts, that each is effective.
"Jesus said, 'Ye are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its savor, wherewith will ye be salted?'"
Not content to let this salt figure of speech rest upon its religious or literary value, this earnest Mormon explained scientifically how salt actually can lose its savor, giving as an example salt that had been placed in Colorado pastures for cattle. The effect of rain and weather was to leach out valuable, soluble salts, leaving only coarse and flavorless substances.
Then he summed up with a sharply clear analogy to the leaching out of the wholesomeness and savor from a person's life, leaving him an ineffective, inert bunch of cheap chemicals.
The second speaker was a young army officer, on duty at a nearby camp.
His talk was a serious plea for the recognition of public recreation programs as a means of combatting juvenile delinquency. He was a graduate of Utah State College at Logan, and explained the purpose of the training in community recreation leadership that he had received there.
He called attention to the fact that Mayor Kelly had then recently appointed 1,000 new members of the Chicago city police force, following the notorious Degnan kidnaping [sic] and murder case. How much greater permanent effect upon morality of the community could have been secured by hiring 1,000 new public recreation leaders to develop throughout the city a program to build moral character to such a point that kidnapping and murder would not be possible!
How much wiser, he pointed out, to practice preventive medicine for social ills than to club people over their heads after they have gone wrong, and have become social liabilities.
The leader finished the meeting with a request for a greater attendance at Tuesday evening "Mutual" meetings of young people. The congregation sang a parting song, which was new to most of them; a member of the priesthood said a benediction. The meeting was over.
They gathered around newcomers, introducing themselves, making the first-timer feel genuinely at home.
A sacramental meeting of the North Shore ward, held on a Sunday evening in the latter part of January, 1946, as reported by a non-Mormon who was attending one of these services for the first time in his life, can be taken as typical.
There was not a big congregation present, and as the bishop opened the meeting, and before the leader for the evening took charge, he explained that the lack of attendance was due to the fact that the ladies' choral group had been invited to sing at another church, and husbands of these ladies, naturally, had gone along, too. The weather was bitterly cold, but it was evident that bad weather had not been the reason for the comparatively poor attendance.
The meeting opened with the ancient hymn, "How Firm a Foundation." Then the leader made a simple announcement of the sacramental service. There was no long harangue as to who could or could not partake of the communion sacrament. There was no group confession of sins. There was no groveling and humbling of the dignity of man, either mentally or physically.
The leader designated a song as the sacramental hymn. The congregation sang it sitting down, very much like they would sing a song sitting around a table at home.
At one side, apart, and facing the congregation, sat two priests who were in charge of the sacrament. The leader had selected them at random from the congregation at the beginning of the service. One was a sailor, in uniform. The other was a business man.
At the conclusion of the sacramental hymn, one of the priests kneeled and said a prayer asking the Lord's grace, in much the same manner that he would ask grace at his own table. Then he passed a plate of small pieces of bread to two waiting boys, about fourteen years of age, who were deacons, for distribution among the church members.
Sitting erect in the pride and dignity of being a human being, each member took a piece of the bread and immediately ate it, without ceremony, or genuflexion, or kneeling or bowing of any kind.
The other priest, after the people had eaten, made a plain short exhortation before passing to the young deacons the plates of communion cups filled with pure clear water. And here, perhaps, is the key to the whole Mormon religion. They live to seek out the purer things of life, as exemplified by the purity of the water.
There was no wine, nor was there any despicable compromise with unfermented grape juice. The Mormons not only advise against the use of alcohol in any way, but they actually practice their advice.
After all had eaten and drunk, the two priests covered the communion dishes with a plain white cloth, and that was all there was to the sacramental service, as far as ritual went. Its extreme simplicity carried a terrific emotional wallop. Somehow, it made a man feel that he was mighty close to "That night in which He was betrayed," when "He took bread and brake it." The color, the trappings, ceremoniousness, rich vestments, soft music, people kneeling in humility - all were absent. In their place was just a group of common men and women solemnly and seriously recalling one of the greatest events in the history of mankind.
The almost startling effect, psychologically, of this ultra-simple communion service was to completely obliterate the feeling of supplication and meekness engendered at such a time in many other churches. A man didn't feel that he drew nigh - "Unworthy as to so much as gather up the crumbs from His table" - Not at all! He felt that he sat as an equal and a guest at Jesus' table, and after he had eaten and drunk, he went away with a greater appreciation of his own table, his own body, his own life - all godlike if he would make and keep them so.
Following the partaking of the sacrament, the leader introduced the first of the two speakers for the evening, a man only recently moved into the communityh from an eastern seaboard state.
His talk was short. His theme was the effectiveness of a few who tackled a problem seriously. His message was straightforward and packed with facts. It was not in any way a sermon. Rather, it was an earnest and well-documented moral essay.
"Compared to the population of the world," he said, "the size of our church is small. There is only one of us to about two thousand others, I believe. But that need not deter us from moving forward toward realization of the set of standards established by our church. The weight of every individual is felt in the total. And so, we must live our lives in the knowledge that each one counts, that each is effective.
"Jesus said, 'Ye are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its savor, wherewith will ye be salted?'"
Not content to let this salt figure of speech rest upon its religious or literary value, this earnest Mormon explained scientifically how salt actually can lose its savor, giving as an example salt that had been placed in Colorado pastures for cattle. The effect of rain and weather was to leach out valuable, soluble salts, leaving only coarse and flavorless substances.
Then he summed up with a sharply clear analogy to the leaching out of the wholesomeness and savor from a person's life, leaving him an ineffective, inert bunch of cheap chemicals.
The second speaker was a young army officer, on duty at a nearby camp.
His talk was a serious plea for the recognition of public recreation programs as a means of combatting juvenile delinquency. He was a graduate of Utah State College at Logan, and explained the purpose of the training in community recreation leadership that he had received there.
He called attention to the fact that Mayor Kelly had then recently appointed 1,000 new members of the Chicago city police force, following the notorious Degnan kidnaping [sic] and murder case. How much greater permanent effect upon morality of the community could have been secured by hiring 1,000 new public recreation leaders to develop throughout the city a program to build moral character to such a point that kidnapping and murder would not be possible!
How much wiser, he pointed out, to practice preventive medicine for social ills than to club people over their heads after they have gone wrong, and have become social liabilities.
The leader finished the meeting with a request for a greater attendance at Tuesday evening "Mutual" meetings of young people. The congregation sang a parting song, which was new to most of them; a member of the priesthood said a benediction. The meeting was over.
They gathered around newcomers, introducing themselves, making the first-timer feel genuinely at home.
4.
The Sunday, April 15, 1946 meeting of the priesthood of the North Shore ward was an inspiring gathering. A large number of men attended.
The bishop called the meeting to order and instructed the men to segregate according to their degrees of order in the priesthood. The elders, by far the greater number, assembled in one end of the huge room. Members of the quorum of seventy, occupied the center of the room, while the high priests took a curtained enclosure on the stage.
A regular teacher took charge of each group. In each case, the method of instruction was the same. The teacher propounded the subject for discussion, and asking a particular question about some phase of it, called for expressions of knowledge or opinion in turn from every member of the class, or from as many as cared to speak. After all had spoken, then the teacher proceeded to read what the recognized authorities said on the subject. The word of the authorities was not always taken as final, however, but used to cohere the various ideas which members of the group had expressed.
A perfectly open-minded attitude prevailed, with the assumption that any man present might come up with a thought that would represent an advancement in the whold world's knowledge on that point. Every man took an active part. At no time did the teacher become dogmatic or didactic. He looked upon his function as one of purely guiding the group's discussion along the general lines of the day's assignment. He didn't lecture, he didn't quiz, but probed skilfully [sic] for the amount of knowledge resident within the minds of those in the class on the subject at hand. After all had expressed themselves, he recapitulated their explorations, helping to reduce their collective ideas to a few simple principles that could be retained by all.
The ordinary relationship of teacher to pupil so commonly expected in classrooms did not exist. Instead, there was a brotherly feeling that all were seeking together the answers to vital problems. The classwork took on the nature of an adventurous expedition, because each member was able to expound his own ideas to the full, and to measure his mental stature with that of his fellows. Thus, a man with good ideas was very quickly recognized as a leader in that subject. On the other hand, a man whose ideas were shallow found them quickly exposed, and was soon able to find his proper level.
The subject for discussion by the high priest group was the comparison of all leading religions on the idea of pre-existence in another sphere before entering this world. Although the priests began the study in a spirit of being perfectly willing to accept whatever was truth in the matter, they were highly gratified to learn that their church was the only Christian group that holds the belief that man lived out another existence before he entered this world.
It appeared, however, that almost none of them had a very clear idea about what non-Mormon people thought about them and their faith. So all-embracing, and so complete was their church life that they had found it unnecessary in any way to draw upon the theological facilities of neighboring church organizations.
The bishop called the meeting to order and instructed the men to segregate according to their degrees of order in the priesthood. The elders, by far the greater number, assembled in one end of the huge room. Members of the quorum of seventy, occupied the center of the room, while the high priests took a curtained enclosure on the stage.
A regular teacher took charge of each group. In each case, the method of instruction was the same. The teacher propounded the subject for discussion, and asking a particular question about some phase of it, called for expressions of knowledge or opinion in turn from every member of the class, or from as many as cared to speak. After all had spoken, then the teacher proceeded to read what the recognized authorities said on the subject. The word of the authorities was not always taken as final, however, but used to cohere the various ideas which members of the group had expressed.
A perfectly open-minded attitude prevailed, with the assumption that any man present might come up with a thought that would represent an advancement in the whold world's knowledge on that point. Every man took an active part. At no time did the teacher become dogmatic or didactic. He looked upon his function as one of purely guiding the group's discussion along the general lines of the day's assignment. He didn't lecture, he didn't quiz, but probed skilfully [sic] for the amount of knowledge resident within the minds of those in the class on the subject at hand. After all had expressed themselves, he recapitulated their explorations, helping to reduce their collective ideas to a few simple principles that could be retained by all.
The ordinary relationship of teacher to pupil so commonly expected in classrooms did not exist. Instead, there was a brotherly feeling that all were seeking together the answers to vital problems. The classwork took on the nature of an adventurous expedition, because each member was able to expound his own ideas to the full, and to measure his mental stature with that of his fellows. Thus, a man with good ideas was very quickly recognized as a leader in that subject. On the other hand, a man whose ideas were shallow found them quickly exposed, and was soon able to find his proper level.
The subject for discussion by the high priest group was the comparison of all leading religions on the idea of pre-existence in another sphere before entering this world. Although the priests began the study in a spirit of being perfectly willing to accept whatever was truth in the matter, they were highly gratified to learn that their church was the only Christian group that holds the belief that man lived out another existence before he entered this world.
It appeared, however, that almost none of them had a very clear idea about what non-Mormon people thought about them and their faith. So all-embracing, and so complete was their church life that they had found it unnecessary in any way to draw upon the theological facilities of neighboring church organizations.
5.
The home of the Northern States Mission is a large modern brick building, with three stories and a basement. Located at 6011 North Sheridan Road, in Chicago, it overlooks a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. Its location is in the midst of one of the better homes areas of the north side, and it has the appearance of being a palatial private residence.
There are no signs, no garish displays to attract attention, no banners, no flags, conspicuous bulletin boards, nor anything else that would indicate it is other than a home. When a person has been led by his interest to call at the place, he finds it identified by a small card, measuring about five inches by eight inches, inside the glass of the front door, on which in neat letters is the legend, "Northern States Mission, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints."
Inside, the place has even more the air of a tastefully but richly furnished private home. Indeed, that is about what it is. Here reside the mission president and his family, as well as six young missionaries who are on duty at the mission headquarters. On the right of the entrance hall is a large living room in which are a grand piano and many comfortable chairs. It is here that meetings of young people and small discussion groups are scheduled. To the left of the hall is a dining room with a big table that is covered with a large lace tablecloth. The mission president's family and the missionaries take their meals there.
One room at the back of the hall is set aside as the mission office. It is from here that the efforts of all missionaries in the field are coordinated. Near it is the private office of the mission president.
The church owns the property. The place is furnished rent-free to the mission president's family. The only other income which the mission president draws from the church during his tenure of office, which usually runs about three years, is an allowance of $2500 a year for the maintenance of his family. Since men of very high caliber are invariably chosen for this post, and others like it, the presidency of a mission involves considerable personal sacrifice, as do all other positions of duty, responsibility or trust within the church.
Nearly all leaders in the Mormon church, when they have attained the eminence that entitles them to responsibilities of heading a mission organization, usually have reached a level of private income from $5,000 to $20,000 per year, in their chosen businesses or professions.
The problem of maintaining the mission home, and feeding all the residents there is one of the responsibilities of the mission president. Each missionary on duty at the headquarters pays toward his board, room, laundry of linens, etc., but the amount is comparatively small. Due to volume purchases for such a large "family" a good scale of living is possible, but there is nothing left over.
Household duties for all are performed by employees who are paid in full by the mission president. In the case of the present president, Dr. Creed Haymond, the amount paid to a man and his wife for this work is only $40 less in cash annually than the mission president's allowance from the church, not counting room and board.
The territory of the Northern States Mission includes Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Wisconsin, Michigan and most of Iowa.
In the spring of 1946, there were 52 missionaries in the field. This was a comparatively low number, caused by effects of the war. The mission had dug in and muddled through the war, but had begun by January 1, 1946, to expand again into the opportunities and responsibilities of its district. Provision is made within its organization for a total of 180 missionaries.
When a missionary is out and away from the mission home, his or her expenses are borne entirely by himself or herself. It is the ambition of every missionary to get out into the field.
Clerical, stenographic and administrative work of the mission at this writing is handled at the mission home by the following six young people: Floyd M. Anderson, secretary of the mission; Miss Venna Dunkley of Preston, Idaho, former student of Brigham Young University and of the Latter-day Saints Business college; Miss Ruth Christensen of Boise, Idaho; Miss Reva M. Judd of Hoytsville, Utah, former student of Brigham Young University; Miss Catherine Mae Hopkins of Richmond, Calif., former student of the University of California; Miss Alice Ruth Goddard of Salt Lake City, graduate of the University of Utah.
Mr. Anderson is a native of Springville, Utah. He holds the position of elder in the church. Out of respect for him as a man, for his duty and position, other Mormons in speaking to him refer to him as "Brother" Anderson. The mission president is called "President" Haymond when he is being addressed. The young women are addressed as "Sister," such as "Sister Goddard."
Mr. Anderson had completed two years of college at Brigham Young University and Texas Tech before entering duty in the United States army during the war as an air cadet. He earned a commission as a lieutenant and became a B-29 pilot. In rubbing shoulders with men from all parts of America, he gradually came to see his own philosophy in comparison to that of others, and to realize that it was a stronger one, and had more comfort, hope and spiritual vigor to offer mankind. From serious talks among these little groups in tents and barracks and quonset huts, Lieutenant Anderson gained the conviction that it was his duty to go on a mission. Upon his return home he debated with himself a short time as to whether he should return to college or enter upon the mission at once. In typical Mormon fashion, the idea of the mission won the argument.
He is not trained in public speaking, to the extent of formal forensics, and his attempts to express himself show this fact, but his zeal and fervor, his singleness of purpose, are evident in every gesture and everything that he says. Few men have been more thoroughly imbued with the missionary spirit.
There are no signs, no garish displays to attract attention, no banners, no flags, conspicuous bulletin boards, nor anything else that would indicate it is other than a home. When a person has been led by his interest to call at the place, he finds it identified by a small card, measuring about five inches by eight inches, inside the glass of the front door, on which in neat letters is the legend, "Northern States Mission, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints."
Inside, the place has even more the air of a tastefully but richly furnished private home. Indeed, that is about what it is. Here reside the mission president and his family, as well as six young missionaries who are on duty at the mission headquarters. On the right of the entrance hall is a large living room in which are a grand piano and many comfortable chairs. It is here that meetings of young people and small discussion groups are scheduled. To the left of the hall is a dining room with a big table that is covered with a large lace tablecloth. The mission president's family and the missionaries take their meals there.
One room at the back of the hall is set aside as the mission office. It is from here that the efforts of all missionaries in the field are coordinated. Near it is the private office of the mission president.
The church owns the property. The place is furnished rent-free to the mission president's family. The only other income which the mission president draws from the church during his tenure of office, which usually runs about three years, is an allowance of $2500 a year for the maintenance of his family. Since men of very high caliber are invariably chosen for this post, and others like it, the presidency of a mission involves considerable personal sacrifice, as do all other positions of duty, responsibility or trust within the church.
Nearly all leaders in the Mormon church, when they have attained the eminence that entitles them to responsibilities of heading a mission organization, usually have reached a level of private income from $5,000 to $20,000 per year, in their chosen businesses or professions.
The problem of maintaining the mission home, and feeding all the residents there is one of the responsibilities of the mission president. Each missionary on duty at the headquarters pays toward his board, room, laundry of linens, etc., but the amount is comparatively small. Due to volume purchases for such a large "family" a good scale of living is possible, but there is nothing left over.
Household duties for all are performed by employees who are paid in full by the mission president. In the case of the present president, Dr. Creed Haymond, the amount paid to a man and his wife for this work is only $40 less in cash annually than the mission president's allowance from the church, not counting room and board.
The territory of the Northern States Mission includes Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Wisconsin, Michigan and most of Iowa.
In the spring of 1946, there were 52 missionaries in the field. This was a comparatively low number, caused by effects of the war. The mission had dug in and muddled through the war, but had begun by January 1, 1946, to expand again into the opportunities and responsibilities of its district. Provision is made within its organization for a total of 180 missionaries.
When a missionary is out and away from the mission home, his or her expenses are borne entirely by himself or herself. It is the ambition of every missionary to get out into the field.
Clerical, stenographic and administrative work of the mission at this writing is handled at the mission home by the following six young people: Floyd M. Anderson, secretary of the mission; Miss Venna Dunkley of Preston, Idaho, former student of Brigham Young University and of the Latter-day Saints Business college; Miss Ruth Christensen of Boise, Idaho; Miss Reva M. Judd of Hoytsville, Utah, former student of Brigham Young University; Miss Catherine Mae Hopkins of Richmond, Calif., former student of the University of California; Miss Alice Ruth Goddard of Salt Lake City, graduate of the University of Utah.
Mr. Anderson is a native of Springville, Utah. He holds the position of elder in the church. Out of respect for him as a man, for his duty and position, other Mormons in speaking to him refer to him as "Brother" Anderson. The mission president is called "President" Haymond when he is being addressed. The young women are addressed as "Sister," such as "Sister Goddard."
Mr. Anderson had completed two years of college at Brigham Young University and Texas Tech before entering duty in the United States army during the war as an air cadet. He earned a commission as a lieutenant and became a B-29 pilot. In rubbing shoulders with men from all parts of America, he gradually came to see his own philosophy in comparison to that of others, and to realize that it was a stronger one, and had more comfort, hope and spiritual vigor to offer mankind. From serious talks among these little groups in tents and barracks and quonset huts, Lieutenant Anderson gained the conviction that it was his duty to go on a mission. Upon his return home he debated with himself a short time as to whether he should return to college or enter upon the mission at once. In typical Mormon fashion, the idea of the mission won the argument.
He is not trained in public speaking, to the extent of formal forensics, and his attempts to express himself show this fact, but his zeal and fervor, his singleness of purpose, are evident in every gesture and everything that he says. Few men have been more thoroughly imbued with the missionary spirit.
6.
There was never a more ardent bunch of young people anywhere than the group that meets each Wednesday night at the Northern States Mission home.
On the night of April 10, 1946, there were fifteen present at their meeting. Nine of them were sailors who were temporarily stationed in the Chicago area. Their homes were in the west. Others of the group were four young women and two former army officers.
Their subject for discussion was, "Why I believe in the revelation of God to Joseph Smith." The meeting was opened with a hymn. The president of the young people, a sailor, introduced the subject for study by stating the general views of the church in the matter, and by making a short talk in which he set forth his own opinions. Then he pointed his finger at each member of the group in turn, and each spoke as the opportunity moved around the circle where they sat in the living room of the mission home.
The first speaker talked informally, straight from his heart. He was a returned missionary. He voiced no ideas that are not to be found in most Mormon literature and in the arguments of most Mormons when they expounded their faith, but he enunciated each axiom as though it were a thing of gold that had been handed to him, since he seemed to possess the scrupulous type of mind associated with bookkeppers and fiscal officers. He spoke from a sure conviction. He had absorbed Mormonism from infancy, and it would have been utterly impossible for him to believe any other kind of religion.
The next, another sailor, was a young man who had just begun to view the world as it is, and not as his good Mormon mother would have had him believe it ought to be.
Then followed a youth whose researches were inclined toward formal theological studies. He quoted several eminent theologians - all of them Mormons - to support his belief in the completeness of the philosophy taught by the church.
The clearest picture of the value of the faith, to a non-Mormon, was delineated by the next person in the circle, who was Miss Venna Dunkley. Her words were something like these.
"The great value of Joseph Smith to the world was that he explained a conception of God which everyone can understand. He swept away all the muddled theological thinking and obscurement of centuries and taught the simple clear fact that God is a living person, a being of flesh and bone, an individual with body, parts and passions, even like you and I are."
Another sailor, also a returned missionary, testified as to his feelings during his participation in a miracle of healing. He had been called to the home of a child stricken with infantile paralysis. At the request of the child's mother, he had performed the ceremony of anointing the child, and the anointing was sealed by the president of his mission. As the final words of the president's exhortative prayer were uttered, the young man said, a vital thrill, like an electric spark, traveled through his body to that of the sick child. Although the family physician had pronounced the child's case hopeless, the sick one was back in school on the ninth day after the healing ceremony had been performed.
One of the group described the confusion and scorn that was heaped upon him in his biology class at college when he had taken issue with the professor who had stated that, "No knowledge is certain." The student had replied with his convictions of the certainty of the revelation of God to Joseph Smith. His agnostic non-Mormon classmates had roared at him and he had taken a terrific beating in the arguments that followed.
The testimony of one of the girls was unsurpassed for its sweetness. She said, "The beauty of the church's truth has been with me all my life. I have marveled at how it has shown itself in even the little, everyday things of living, and how happy it has made our home."
One of the former army officers spoke fervently, from the depths of his heart. As he talked, he caught the emotional wavelength of the group and held their ever-heightening interest until he stopped. A personal magnetism born of his earnestness and sincerity touched all those present.
The remaining former army officer was not a Mormon. He was last of the group to be called on, and his views were eagerly sought by all the others. They plied him with question after question in an honest effort to see themselves as others see them.
Dr. Creed Haymond has been president of the Northern States Mission since January 1, 1946.
Born in a Mormon family, descendant of pioneers who settled the Salt Lake valley in the time of Brigham Young, Dr. Haymond is a brilliant example of a product of Mormon culture.
When we [sic] was seven years of age, after hearing Apostle Reed Smoot deliver a sermon on the word of Wisdom at Provo, Utah, he returned with his mother to his home in nearby Springville, to make a compact with his sister and Joseph J. Cannon, Mormon Sunday School pioneer, that none of them would ever taste tea or coffee, tobacco or liquor, unless all three were together and all three assented to the action.
Living according to the word of wisdom has brought health, athletic prowess, scholarly attainment, financial success and philosophical happiness to Creed Haymond. Taking high scholastic honors in Utah, and setting a world's record for the two-hundred-and-twenty yard dash that was to stand for nineteen years, he entered the University of Pennsylvania, to become one of its most brilliant students and renowned athletes. He was graduated with highest honors.
Dr. Haymond still is not a very big man, and his legs are not long. To have established the world's record in running, his legs certainly must have moved like steam pistons, especially when the racers pitted against him were nearly always bigger than he.
Dr. Haymond is descended from a Pennsylvania Quaker who became a Mormon and was disinherited by his people. The Mormon convert, however, went on westward with the migration, and became one of the most outstanding pioneers in Utah. His knowledge of woolen spinning and weaving made him invaluable to the church's efforts to establish a weaving industry in Utah.
Dr. Haymond is a dentist. He established himself in Salt Lake City where he soon became successful, gradually building up a practice that amounted to more than $20,000 per year in 1945, when he was called by the church to give it up and take charge of the mission. He had not gone on a mission as a young man, as many Mormons do, but had risen to be bishop of a ward and held other positions of great responsibility in the church. At the time he was making his plans to go from Salt Lake City to Chicago, he asked President David O. McKay of the first presidency, how long he could expect to remain on the assignment.
President McKay closed his eyes, as though visualizing the work ahead of Dr. Haymond, and began counting, "Three, seven, nine - maybe ten years."
That was all Dr. Haymond wanted to know. He immediately set about selling many thousands of dollars worth of dental equipment, turned his practice over to other dentists, made arrangements for the occupancy of his home, packed up, and turning his back on everything material that he had accumulated in a lifetime, was ready to go do the bidding of the church.
With Dr. Haymond in Chicago is his wife, a beautiful dignified woman who appears to be a few years younger than he, and their younger son, who is about 16. They left one older son, still in school, and a daughter, in Salt Lake City.
During the latter decade of his life, Dr. Haymond has devoted much time to scriptural study, and he has committed to memory many chapters and passages of holy writ. Those parts of the holy books which he deems especially worthy of remembering, he colors with a red pencil, and proceeds to memorize them. There is hardly any point for scriptural reference likely to be discussed that he cannot at once summon to his tongue's tip many passages bearing upon it. This study of scriptures came about as a result of his being advised to do so by George Albert Smith, more than eleven years ago, long before the latter was to become first president of the church and be instrumental in sending Creed Haymond out to preach the gospel and bear testimony of his faith.
Dr. Haymond is just beginning to gray, still facing the better part of his life.
A key to the motive force and the means of attaining his goals is contained in an address which Dr. Haymond delivered in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City in May 1931 as the windup of a week's campaign by the Board of Education of the L.D.S. church against tobacco and other harmful addictions. Excerpts from this address have been coupled with some from that of Elder Paul C. Kimball, a Rhodes scholar, and printed by the church for use throughout its dominion. It is still in use.
Following is an abridgement of that talk:
"In 1919 I was captain of the University of Pennsylvania track team. I had won the twenty-two yard dash and placed second in the hundred the year before. We took a big squad of men to Harvard for the championships of Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America. In the qualifying heats we qualified seventeen men. Cornell placed second with ten, and Princeton third with nine.
"I had always been taught to obey the Word of Wisdom....
"I went up to Boston with our men to the track meet. I was in good condition. The night before the meet I had a conversation with my coach, who stands possibly as the greatest coach living today. He coached the last three Olympic teams and is coach for the Olympic team this year. He came to me and said, 'Creed, you are captain of this track team. We have qualified more men than any other school, but it depends upon you to win this championship tomorrow. You have trained faithfully and hard. I want you to forget your funny Mormon ideas about drinking tea and coffee thist ime - I want you to drink this glass of wine.'
"I didn't supopse that the glass of wine would hurt me. It might make me sick, because I wasn't used to it; but I had made a promise with my twin sister and Joseph J. Cannon, and my mother, that I would never break the Word of Wisdom. I thought more of my coach possibly than any man living, excepting my own family. I said, 'Robbie, I can't do it. I would give anything in life to do it because this is my supreme moment, but I can't.'
"He said, 'All right. You have been a good trainer. You better go to bed.' So I went to my room. I felt pretty low. I had always been taught to pray. I got on my knees and I said to the Lord, 'Father in Heaven, I have been taught a principle of health. It has been taught to me that it was revealed of Thee to a prophet in the latter days. I want to know for myself if it is true.'
"I felt consoled, and got into bed. The next morning I was awakened by a rap on the door. I jumped up and opened the door; and there was the coach. He said, 'How are you feeling?' I replied, 'I am feeling fine, why?' He was pale. He said, 'Every man on the team is vomiting; they are all sick.' He had given his men wine before - just as a tonic, mind you. The men had been training hard and he was afraid they would be stale. He had done it before, but this time they were sick.
"Then a series of very peculiar events occurred. I went out in the hundred-yard dash. I was to run six races - three hundreds and three two-twenties. I won my trial heat and my semi-final, and I came into the final heat of the hundred. Mr. Johnson of Michigan, a man six feet two inches in height, had the second lane in the semi-final, and I happened to pick that lane in my final. You know when runners go out to their marks they dig holes in the ground. His holes were made further apart than were mine and were filled with soft dirt. As the gun flashed I made a terrific lunge, as all runners do, and as I went out of my holes both holes broke, and I slipped. The men were three or four yards ahead of me when I got going. I went after them as hard as I could go. At fifty yards I was in last place; at seventy-five I was in last place. At eighty I had caught one man; at ninety I had caught three more; but I had Johnson of Michigan to overtake. I didn't realize it and I don't remember passing him, but I did. I was congratulated on every hand on the fight I put up.
"We came to the semi-finals of the two-twenty. In eleven years of competition I had never seen the field events finished before the track events; but this day the field events, for some peculiar reason, had been finished before the semi-finals of the two-twenty. They called us to the semi-finals and announced that I was trying for the world's record. I went out and did all I could, but instead of running straight forward, I ran up and down, and only did twenty-one and three-fifths seconds. I was in the next to the last semi-finals and had less than five minutes to rest before they called the finals. The rules say that no finals shall appear under 25 minutes after the semi-finals; but there was a crowd of about twenty thousand people calling for the finals, and the referee said, 'You will have to go back and run it.' Billy More, Harvard captain, ran up and said, 'Haymond, you are the intercollegiate champion; you have the right to speak to the starter and ask him to give us time.'
"Of course, we were all out of breath; we were panting and very tired. I went to the starter and asked, 'Mr. Reynolds, you must give us time; we can't run this final now.' He replied, 'All right, we will give you ten minutes.' But right at that instant the telephone rang, and the referee said, 'You must run the race. The people are anxious to go home.'
"But as the starter said, 'Take your marks,' every feeling of weariness disappeared; my breath was normal, and as the gun flashed I went with it. I won the race, and as I went off the field my coach came down to me and said, 'Creed, I want to tell you one thing; regardless of what the timers say, you ran the fastest twenty-two that any human ever ran - twenty-one seconds flat.'
"The Lord gave the promise in the Word of Wisdom to those who were obedient, 'They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not be faint.' But the peculiar thing about it was that we had several men on the team who should have won first places, but not another man won a first. I don't say this in any spirit of boasting; I say it to you in a spirit of humility.
"I went to my hotel room and went to bed. It was dark, but a light came into my mind. I asked myself, 'Have your prayers been answered?' Then I reflected upon the events of the day - of the men being sick; of not a man winning first place; of my winning the two-twenty in world record time, when exhausted; of my winning the hundred yard dash after slipping and against the five fastest men in America. Do you believe they were answered? I bear you my testimony - that the revelation given to the Prophet is verily and indeed true."
The Northern States Mission needs the guidance of such a man as Creed Haymond. Already rumblings from industrial areas, such as Detroit, indicate that a great stress will be placed upon the church, and already Dr. Haymond is getting the church welfare plan underway there.
Upon his recent return from a church conference in Salt Lake City, Dr. Haymond found twenty letters indicating that the assistance of the church would be needed to tide over families that had been caught in industrial turmoil and strikes, with their war bonds gone and their savings exhausted.
And the work of Mormon missionaries is not always received with the best grace in the world, either. A recent month's reports showed that missionaries of the district had made 1067 calls, and had had more than a thousand doors slammed in their faces. The others had been opened to them, to grant at least a fair hearing to the gospel of these latter days.
Next: Church Organization
On the night of April 10, 1946, there were fifteen present at their meeting. Nine of them were sailors who were temporarily stationed in the Chicago area. Their homes were in the west. Others of the group were four young women and two former army officers.
Their subject for discussion was, "Why I believe in the revelation of God to Joseph Smith." The meeting was opened with a hymn. The president of the young people, a sailor, introduced the subject for study by stating the general views of the church in the matter, and by making a short talk in which he set forth his own opinions. Then he pointed his finger at each member of the group in turn, and each spoke as the opportunity moved around the circle where they sat in the living room of the mission home.
The first speaker talked informally, straight from his heart. He was a returned missionary. He voiced no ideas that are not to be found in most Mormon literature and in the arguments of most Mormons when they expounded their faith, but he enunciated each axiom as though it were a thing of gold that had been handed to him, since he seemed to possess the scrupulous type of mind associated with bookkeppers and fiscal officers. He spoke from a sure conviction. He had absorbed Mormonism from infancy, and it would have been utterly impossible for him to believe any other kind of religion.
The next, another sailor, was a young man who had just begun to view the world as it is, and not as his good Mormon mother would have had him believe it ought to be.
Then followed a youth whose researches were inclined toward formal theological studies. He quoted several eminent theologians - all of them Mormons - to support his belief in the completeness of the philosophy taught by the church.
The clearest picture of the value of the faith, to a non-Mormon, was delineated by the next person in the circle, who was Miss Venna Dunkley. Her words were something like these.
"The great value of Joseph Smith to the world was that he explained a conception of God which everyone can understand. He swept away all the muddled theological thinking and obscurement of centuries and taught the simple clear fact that God is a living person, a being of flesh and bone, an individual with body, parts and passions, even like you and I are."
Another sailor, also a returned missionary, testified as to his feelings during his participation in a miracle of healing. He had been called to the home of a child stricken with infantile paralysis. At the request of the child's mother, he had performed the ceremony of anointing the child, and the anointing was sealed by the president of his mission. As the final words of the president's exhortative prayer were uttered, the young man said, a vital thrill, like an electric spark, traveled through his body to that of the sick child. Although the family physician had pronounced the child's case hopeless, the sick one was back in school on the ninth day after the healing ceremony had been performed.
One of the group described the confusion and scorn that was heaped upon him in his biology class at college when he had taken issue with the professor who had stated that, "No knowledge is certain." The student had replied with his convictions of the certainty of the revelation of God to Joseph Smith. His agnostic non-Mormon classmates had roared at him and he had taken a terrific beating in the arguments that followed.
The testimony of one of the girls was unsurpassed for its sweetness. She said, "The beauty of the church's truth has been with me all my life. I have marveled at how it has shown itself in even the little, everyday things of living, and how happy it has made our home."
One of the former army officers spoke fervently, from the depths of his heart. As he talked, he caught the emotional wavelength of the group and held their ever-heightening interest until he stopped. A personal magnetism born of his earnestness and sincerity touched all those present.
The remaining former army officer was not a Mormon. He was last of the group to be called on, and his views were eagerly sought by all the others. They plied him with question after question in an honest effort to see themselves as others see them.
Dr. Creed Haymond has been president of the Northern States Mission since January 1, 1946.
Born in a Mormon family, descendant of pioneers who settled the Salt Lake valley in the time of Brigham Young, Dr. Haymond is a brilliant example of a product of Mormon culture.
When we [sic] was seven years of age, after hearing Apostle Reed Smoot deliver a sermon on the word of Wisdom at Provo, Utah, he returned with his mother to his home in nearby Springville, to make a compact with his sister and Joseph J. Cannon, Mormon Sunday School pioneer, that none of them would ever taste tea or coffee, tobacco or liquor, unless all three were together and all three assented to the action.
Living according to the word of wisdom has brought health, athletic prowess, scholarly attainment, financial success and philosophical happiness to Creed Haymond. Taking high scholastic honors in Utah, and setting a world's record for the two-hundred-and-twenty yard dash that was to stand for nineteen years, he entered the University of Pennsylvania, to become one of its most brilliant students and renowned athletes. He was graduated with highest honors.
Dr. Haymond still is not a very big man, and his legs are not long. To have established the world's record in running, his legs certainly must have moved like steam pistons, especially when the racers pitted against him were nearly always bigger than he.
Dr. Haymond is descended from a Pennsylvania Quaker who became a Mormon and was disinherited by his people. The Mormon convert, however, went on westward with the migration, and became one of the most outstanding pioneers in Utah. His knowledge of woolen spinning and weaving made him invaluable to the church's efforts to establish a weaving industry in Utah.
Dr. Haymond is a dentist. He established himself in Salt Lake City where he soon became successful, gradually building up a practice that amounted to more than $20,000 per year in 1945, when he was called by the church to give it up and take charge of the mission. He had not gone on a mission as a young man, as many Mormons do, but had risen to be bishop of a ward and held other positions of great responsibility in the church. At the time he was making his plans to go from Salt Lake City to Chicago, he asked President David O. McKay of the first presidency, how long he could expect to remain on the assignment.
President McKay closed his eyes, as though visualizing the work ahead of Dr. Haymond, and began counting, "Three, seven, nine - maybe ten years."
That was all Dr. Haymond wanted to know. He immediately set about selling many thousands of dollars worth of dental equipment, turned his practice over to other dentists, made arrangements for the occupancy of his home, packed up, and turning his back on everything material that he had accumulated in a lifetime, was ready to go do the bidding of the church.
With Dr. Haymond in Chicago is his wife, a beautiful dignified woman who appears to be a few years younger than he, and their younger son, who is about 16. They left one older son, still in school, and a daughter, in Salt Lake City.
During the latter decade of his life, Dr. Haymond has devoted much time to scriptural study, and he has committed to memory many chapters and passages of holy writ. Those parts of the holy books which he deems especially worthy of remembering, he colors with a red pencil, and proceeds to memorize them. There is hardly any point for scriptural reference likely to be discussed that he cannot at once summon to his tongue's tip many passages bearing upon it. This study of scriptures came about as a result of his being advised to do so by George Albert Smith, more than eleven years ago, long before the latter was to become first president of the church and be instrumental in sending Creed Haymond out to preach the gospel and bear testimony of his faith.
Dr. Haymond is just beginning to gray, still facing the better part of his life.
A key to the motive force and the means of attaining his goals is contained in an address which Dr. Haymond delivered in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City in May 1931 as the windup of a week's campaign by the Board of Education of the L.D.S. church against tobacco and other harmful addictions. Excerpts from this address have been coupled with some from that of Elder Paul C. Kimball, a Rhodes scholar, and printed by the church for use throughout its dominion. It is still in use.
Following is an abridgement of that talk:
"In 1919 I was captain of the University of Pennsylvania track team. I had won the twenty-two yard dash and placed second in the hundred the year before. We took a big squad of men to Harvard for the championships of Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America. In the qualifying heats we qualified seventeen men. Cornell placed second with ten, and Princeton third with nine.
"I had always been taught to obey the Word of Wisdom....
"I went up to Boston with our men to the track meet. I was in good condition. The night before the meet I had a conversation with my coach, who stands possibly as the greatest coach living today. He coached the last three Olympic teams and is coach for the Olympic team this year. He came to me and said, 'Creed, you are captain of this track team. We have qualified more men than any other school, but it depends upon you to win this championship tomorrow. You have trained faithfully and hard. I want you to forget your funny Mormon ideas about drinking tea and coffee thist ime - I want you to drink this glass of wine.'
"I didn't supopse that the glass of wine would hurt me. It might make me sick, because I wasn't used to it; but I had made a promise with my twin sister and Joseph J. Cannon, and my mother, that I would never break the Word of Wisdom. I thought more of my coach possibly than any man living, excepting my own family. I said, 'Robbie, I can't do it. I would give anything in life to do it because this is my supreme moment, but I can't.'
"He said, 'All right. You have been a good trainer. You better go to bed.' So I went to my room. I felt pretty low. I had always been taught to pray. I got on my knees and I said to the Lord, 'Father in Heaven, I have been taught a principle of health. It has been taught to me that it was revealed of Thee to a prophet in the latter days. I want to know for myself if it is true.'
"I felt consoled, and got into bed. The next morning I was awakened by a rap on the door. I jumped up and opened the door; and there was the coach. He said, 'How are you feeling?' I replied, 'I am feeling fine, why?' He was pale. He said, 'Every man on the team is vomiting; they are all sick.' He had given his men wine before - just as a tonic, mind you. The men had been training hard and he was afraid they would be stale. He had done it before, but this time they were sick.
"Then a series of very peculiar events occurred. I went out in the hundred-yard dash. I was to run six races - three hundreds and three two-twenties. I won my trial heat and my semi-final, and I came into the final heat of the hundred. Mr. Johnson of Michigan, a man six feet two inches in height, had the second lane in the semi-final, and I happened to pick that lane in my final. You know when runners go out to their marks they dig holes in the ground. His holes were made further apart than were mine and were filled with soft dirt. As the gun flashed I made a terrific lunge, as all runners do, and as I went out of my holes both holes broke, and I slipped. The men were three or four yards ahead of me when I got going. I went after them as hard as I could go. At fifty yards I was in last place; at seventy-five I was in last place. At eighty I had caught one man; at ninety I had caught three more; but I had Johnson of Michigan to overtake. I didn't realize it and I don't remember passing him, but I did. I was congratulated on every hand on the fight I put up.
"We came to the semi-finals of the two-twenty. In eleven years of competition I had never seen the field events finished before the track events; but this day the field events, for some peculiar reason, had been finished before the semi-finals of the two-twenty. They called us to the semi-finals and announced that I was trying for the world's record. I went out and did all I could, but instead of running straight forward, I ran up and down, and only did twenty-one and three-fifths seconds. I was in the next to the last semi-finals and had less than five minutes to rest before they called the finals. The rules say that no finals shall appear under 25 minutes after the semi-finals; but there was a crowd of about twenty thousand people calling for the finals, and the referee said, 'You will have to go back and run it.' Billy More, Harvard captain, ran up and said, 'Haymond, you are the intercollegiate champion; you have the right to speak to the starter and ask him to give us time.'
"Of course, we were all out of breath; we were panting and very tired. I went to the starter and asked, 'Mr. Reynolds, you must give us time; we can't run this final now.' He replied, 'All right, we will give you ten minutes.' But right at that instant the telephone rang, and the referee said, 'You must run the race. The people are anxious to go home.'
"But as the starter said, 'Take your marks,' every feeling of weariness disappeared; my breath was normal, and as the gun flashed I went with it. I won the race, and as I went off the field my coach came down to me and said, 'Creed, I want to tell you one thing; regardless of what the timers say, you ran the fastest twenty-two that any human ever ran - twenty-one seconds flat.'
"The Lord gave the promise in the Word of Wisdom to those who were obedient, 'They shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not be faint.' But the peculiar thing about it was that we had several men on the team who should have won first places, but not another man won a first. I don't say this in any spirit of boasting; I say it to you in a spirit of humility.
"I went to my hotel room and went to bed. It was dark, but a light came into my mind. I asked myself, 'Have your prayers been answered?' Then I reflected upon the events of the day - of the men being sick; of not a man winning first place; of my winning the two-twenty in world record time, when exhausted; of my winning the hundred yard dash after slipping and against the five fastest men in America. Do you believe they were answered? I bear you my testimony - that the revelation given to the Prophet is verily and indeed true."
The Northern States Mission needs the guidance of such a man as Creed Haymond. Already rumblings from industrial areas, such as Detroit, indicate that a great stress will be placed upon the church, and already Dr. Haymond is getting the church welfare plan underway there.
Upon his recent return from a church conference in Salt Lake City, Dr. Haymond found twenty letters indicating that the assistance of the church would be needed to tide over families that had been caught in industrial turmoil and strikes, with their war bonds gone and their savings exhausted.
And the work of Mormon missionaries is not always received with the best grace in the world, either. A recent month's reports showed that missionaries of the district had made 1067 calls, and had had more than a thousand doors slammed in their faces. The others had been opened to them, to grant at least a fair hearing to the gospel of these latter days.
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