YOUTH PASTORS chapter 240

      The retreat with the youth leaders I had was at small house on that Hood Canal that accommodated the ten of us. I can still picture that house in my mind, but I can’t find it. I have driven up and down the canal looking for it, but can find nothing familiar.

It had been a home converted into a retreat center. Two bedrooms were decorated with mementos of movie stars. I think one was Clark Cable the other might have been Jean Harlow or someone like that. The place was very small and we got to know one another rather well. When I think of Youth leader gatherings I always think of that one because it was just a dream of a session.

What could we do to bring our district together and help teens in smaller churches feel like they were part of something big! We may have laughed more than we planned, but out of that came the kernel for District Youth Congress (DYC). We felt like we needed (or wanted) an event in the winter to balance summer camps.

Ken Overstreet, Dr. Joseph Aldrich,
Ken Hutchinson, Northbound, Diller
and Anderson, Taproot Theatre Co.

We worked on the first DYC for two years and rolled it out December 26-26, 1984 at the Red Lion Inn at Lloyd Center in Portland. Hotels are nearly empty between Christmas and New Years. We got the best rental price at that time of year. It was a huge upgrade over the camps we were using and our prayer was that they would not destroy the place. We did all but demand that there be an adult or responsible party in every room. When that wasn’t possible we tried to assign adjoining rooms.

We did have a problem but I took the LIFE Conference approach. Come down hard, fast and make no public announcement. That meant sending someone home which we did it the first night. To make this really successful and a deterrent for others, they need to know the consequences. We make sure the punishment was leaked so you have immediate control. It always worked.

I’m not sure how the tradition began. Maybe we had seen to many Alfred Hitchcock movies where he always inserted himself in the film. Well, I was on the cover of ever conference flyer. We thought as much about the theme and promotion as we did about the program. There was always a tie in somehow.

There was a sense in which I felt like the days in the district office was my greatest success as a youth leader. I genuinely cared about the people I worked with in all sizes of churches, but I deeply invested in the youth pastors and tried to expand the number in the district. I recruited them and did my best to place them. We always had great teams.

DYC 88 Rick Enloe, Kenny Marks, Commission

DYC 89 Frank "Da Speaker" Peretti, Bill DRAKE and all sixteen district youth pastors

The core group was Greg Collard (actions chairman of the District CE Committee until my arrival), De Hicks, Bonnie Govinchuck, Tom Osborn, Brenda Carlton, Len Kagler, myself and I cannot remember the others.

HOUSE AND OTHER THINGS chapter 239

We were always looking for a house. We lived under the possibility that Paul Kroon, the former pastor from whom we were renting, would want the house back or he would come back. Wirth interest rates hovering around 16% all that year, we finally gave up in despair.

It was at church one Sunday in our second year when we were approached by a lady planning to move to Wisconsin to marry her former brother –in-law. Both had spouses who had passed away. She had a house on 12 Avenue that she would sell us for 12% and a manageable monthly payment. It was still high, but the lowest available at that time.

It's hard to see on a black cat, but
you can see a hint of a right eye.
She had no left eye.

We got the house and her cat Lovey. I was not excited about Lovey. He was a strange cat. She had found him thrown over her back fence and spent a small fortune getting him put back together, The best she ever figured out was maybe the cat had been hit by a car.

Lovey was missing one eye that was sewn shut. He loved to brush up against you but because of a broken hip it you moved your leg, the cat fell over. He had no control over the extension of his claws. When he stretched or was content the claws came out and he would hook you every time. If nothing else, Lovey was a conversation piece. We had him for 11 ½ years before his kidneys gave out and he died. His name really fit him. He wanted more love that he likely got. Those claws were in the way.

The year around school system was perfect for us. If I remember right it was 12 weeks of school then three weeks off with everyone out of school the last two weeks of August. That lasted only two years and they switched back to what most people would consider a “regular” school system. The problem with year around was that elementary and high school kids were on breaks a different times. As a result, families took vacations when they wanted and pulled their kids out of school to do it. High School was on September to May for sports and other school competitions. Made sense to me. We avoided all that conflict because they changed before out kids got to that age.

Rhonda and mom one Christmas

Della could not get over the fresh fruit. We had no idea how juicy strawberries could be until we got to Canby. They were pretty dry up north. Out kids spent some summers picking strawberries like so many others in the area. It was a cool way kids from 10 up to make some extra money. Rod also picked cucumbers. Rhonda wanted to be the buckets were too heavy.

Out daughter did not throw her money away. She saved every penny from every job she had so that when she turned 16 she bought her own car with her own money, We were impressed.

We have always had to have a real Christmas tree. In Canada trees came frozen and bound so that you had no idea what they looked like. I always picked one by weight. Now we could see them and instead of $40, they were only $10 those first few years. We were in awe. We also loved picking the tree out and cutting it down ourselves.

We had a tree in out backyard that had a bicycle chain thrown over a branch at the truck that was being surrounded by the tree trunk. We could have dug it out when we first got there, but left it. When Rhonda and I moved twelve years later it was in the middle of the trunk. I don’t think I ever took a photo. 

MORE TRAVEL chapter 238

Taking the district office job increased my travel schedule. We knew it would. I had a deal with my wife to keep from being away for long periods of time. If I were within three hours from home, I would come back that night no matter when my meeting ended. I ended up returning many nights at 1,2 even 3:00 in the morning. I became friends with a power talk radio station out of San Francisco as it keep me company on many a late night return trip. I couldn’t listen to music – it made me tired, but talk radio got me riled up and it was the only station I could get anywhere in the district. At that time of night the loonies are on line.

As a district leader I traveled more nationally. I returned to attending General Council each May. I believe Canada separated from the USA organizationally the year I moved to Oregon. We missed our Canadian friends. It felt lonely. We knew some of the missionaries, and people from our own district and that was it. I began to spend some time with Betty Pugh for a meal each year.

Betty was the mother of my good friend Al with whom I first attended CBC. She had been one of our youth leaders in Omaha. She sent me $5 every Christmas from the year I went to CBC until her death many years later, just a token of her love. She was a dear friend I looked forward to seeing. She would introduce me to some of the Omaha people each year and tell them, “Now you remember Clyde, don’t you!” They pretended they did, but I was only a kid and my family did not attend the Omaha Gospel Tabernacle. No one knew me. I would always laugh. She so wanted others to remember me.

Christian Education leaders got together nationally once a year. Youth Specialties was doing national and regional conference once a year and I was going with some of our youth leaders. Daryl Dale put me fulltime on the CE/LIFE Committee and he had plans to move the conference from Estes Park to Colorado State University for the next event. Add to that visiting local church, training programs and Bible quiz meets. Quizzing also meant a return to the national scene. I had missed quizzing. Quizzers were always fun to be with. In the first few years I also tried to visit each of our camps while in session. It was all about making connections.

I was hopping around more than I wanted. Della went with me on the national trips whenever possible. She rarely traveled with me around the district. Unless I was asked to speak in a district church, I was home Sundays. I was very selective in how often I accepted Sunday invitations. I managed to be home many weekends to my wife and kids delight. I did not take work home with me. That was a big change from my teaching days,

Rodney and Rhonda got involved in the local swim club and I was trying to make all their meets. That was tough to do because I was booking my schedule out six months and they would announce a meet only a week or two ahead.

Pastor Russell was developed in 1982. Russ Olseon was pastor at Canby Alliance and I admit to getting distracted on Sunday morning and began doodling. I came up with three head sketches that reminded me of him and the random cartoons I had been doing in the Newsletter came to an end. I had a character. Creating him was easy. Coming up with cartoons on a regular basis was hard work. Russ often said or did some funny things and every time he did, I used it. At first I called him Pastor Tim Russell using the names of our two pastors. I thought I might be able to get a good cartoon of Tim and do them together. That never worked.

The western part of the Pacific Northwest is a rain forest. That is why the area is so green. Invitations to return to Canada came regularly the first two years and then stopped forever. Della never wanted to consider a return to snow, and she was the true Canadian. Our motto was “At least you don’t have to shovel it.” The transition was good for the family. The kids biked the whole small town and loved their sense of freedom. Della made wonderful friends quickly and established a small circle of women praying together for their families, the church and the district. Fairly early she began organizing an annual garage sale to support the youth ministry at the church or our missionaries. It was always big and always successful. She used the McDonalds principle: Sell it cheap and sell a lot.

PS: If anyone from the district is reading this blog and happens to have any District Newsletters from 1983-1992, I would love to borrow them and would pay the postage. About two years ago I was cleaning out things to make more room in  my small apartment and dumped all of mine. The newsletters are my memory. 

NEWSLETTER AND CAMP chapter 237

Standard 8.5x17 colored paper printed ever 6 weeks.
Started with Vol. 8 as that was next in in Ralph's
numbering order.

I got involved in publications pretty early in my new job. Ralph Shellrude had begun a district newsletter shortly after he became District Superintendent. That was about a year before I came on board. All three previous ministries were pretty well detached from the main flow of all that was going on, but Ralph had an inclusive idea. He viewed the leadership as a team. We worked together, we talked about each other’s work and we helped one another when we could. He included me in all decisions. I liked his approach and was glad to be included. Each of us brought a different perspective to the district work.

The Newsletter had been his idea and it was fundamentally a letter with the ideas and schedules of him and Reuben Strecker, Church Growth. He wanted to expand it and divide it into section and include a column by me as well. I took over the layout and editing right away. I had done it before.

Heather Barton and I talked about a simple layout and set up a format. I hated empty space and began filling holes with quotes and cartoons. I had no specific character yet. I just included whatever came to mind. It began rather bland compared to what it became. This first version was a paste up project and printed on the photocopier. Della and I assembled and mailed them.

Daryl Dale left a lot of books he obviously took to various training sessions to sell. While good stuff, I had a big sale a District Conference and cleared most of it out. I needed room for my books.

My first big promotional push for was Youth Specialties National Youth Conference being held in Portland that October. I wanted to connect with our youth leaders and hang out with them for a while. There weren’t many paid youth leaders, but most churches had lay leaders.

I heard Tony Campolo speak for the first time at their closing banquet. He spoke on what the phrase “time will be no more” meant. He was captivating. I have never forgot his talk.

The CE Committee worked very hard with me to pull Family Camp together. Most did not attend, but they helped me with costs. I did not want to do that alone. Ralph had already lined up Ravi Zacharias, Leron Heath and Rich Farmer. We finalized prices and I braced myself for the coming onslaught. There was some by mail and phone, but that was tolerable. It was the day of camp registration when it beat me into the ground. The personal attacks, anger and frustration of having to pay a fixed price for cabins, rooms, campsites and food was intolerable to most people and each one felt like I needed to know that personally, and loudly.

Mu weak attempt at being clever.
Used Wheaties orange nut the
cover print faded out. Uck!

After four hours of not-stop confrontation I could no longer take it and excused myself and went home hoping I could sleep and forget. Russ Oleson, pastor from Eugene came to the house some time later to attempt to put me back together. I ended up bawling my eyes out.

I had been yelled at, accused, tormented before but never by so many on the same issue. I took all of that in the past rather well. It is to be expected when people disagree with you. But this was the worst I ever had. The shear numbers were in the process of destroying me. Not everyone was angry. Some understood and accepted that we had to pay our way, but the majority did not and they waited for their arrival to share that frustration.

One person said they had not come prepared to pay that fixed rate. I did not let them in and felt like if they had a gun they might have shot me. We had to check wristbands and the dining room to make sure people eating had paid. I felt like a monster, which was OK, since most seemed to think I was one.

That horrid start cleared the way for the future. By year three the complaints had completely dried up and the transition was made.

GETTING STARTED chapter 236

I loved working with Ralph Shellrude, the District Superintendent. Reuben Strecker was the Pastor of Church Growth and a man of great passion and integrity. They were great men to work with.

We didn’t exactly have a regular day to meet. We had to find a day we were all in the office at the same time. One of the problems of working in a district was the constant need to be on the road. As it turned out, I was at home the most.

My office was upstairs, slightly removed for whatever “action” there was. I was determined not to become a paper pusher even though that seemed like it was going to be the easiest way to let large groups know what was going on. I did have to learn to use the telephone – an instrument I have never liked. I want to see the faces when I talk. It tells me much more than words.

I had decided I would just go along the first year, do what was asked of me and not try to rattle the ship with too many new ideas. However, I must say, my mind was racing with what could be done. I would begin by continuing the work of Daryl Dale.

The district already had a Bible quizzing program so I got caught up with that program. They needed a quizmaster and I had no idea who to ask so initially did the job myself. I called coaches and set up a few meets having coaches meetings at the start of each meet to get acquainted and figure out what needed to be done. I don’t remember how many churches were initially involved, but it was a small group.

I began to tackle the problem of how to begin charging for attendance at Family Camp. The first person I contacted was Chip Morris, the director of Canby Grove Conference Center. I wanted his perspective. After hearing his side, I knew something had to be done. We were killing our own camp. He would not address any of the issues of the program, just the burden the program was on the facilities. He wanted us to use the camp, but could we find a way to help pay our way. That was certainly fair to me.

I began to get semi-regular phone calls from one of our pastors in the greater Seattle area. He had strong opinions on pretty well everything I should be doing, and especially about what I should do about Canby Grove Conference Center. I tried to explain to him that I had responsibility for only one camp in one week of the year, but he seemed to think I was responsible as the director of the facility. Nothing I said ever clarified that in his mind. We would get into heated discussions about it with him telling me what I had to do and me trying to explain it that what he wanted was not my responsibility nor did I have the authority. That only made him mad and made me dislike him more with each phone call — and there were lots. He did not take kindly to the thought of a specific charge to use our very own camp, and threatened not to come or bring his people. Why did we have to pay for something we already owned? He resented it in all the years he remained in our district and never liked me from the very beginning. I was not very cooperative.

The camp orchestra was loved or hated. There was no middle ground. It was a volunteer group of musician who brought their instruments and would played for all the singing. Many thought they were terrible and should be stopped. Others liked the idea of a volunteer Orchestra harkening back to the good ole days and a sense of history. Herman Bohl and been directing almost since the beginning of time. He loved it and certainly wanted to continue. I needed balance.

In the end, I kept the orchestra, celebrated Herman, but asked one of the districts great younger music pastors to come and lead worship and bring his pianist with him — his wife. The orchestra played before the service began. The week was tense, but we survived and the future was secure. We kept the orchestra only a couple more years when Herman was no longer able to direct.

LIFE WENT SOUTH chapter 235

The kids loved the Canby area. They were looking forward to starting school but balked at the requirement to ride a school bus. They would be the first one picked up for the 20-25 minutes ride to school. We agreed with their frustration because you could look out our front window and see Rod’s school straight down the street three blocks away. Rachel’s school was just behind that. They had always walked to school in Regina and this annoyed them. Rules were rules we were told. Safety and all that! Canby was a small town. How unsafe could it be? The school won.

We got the kids the puppy they had always wanted. It was a shorthaired mixed mutt with some Terrier and Beagle dominating. I began to develop my travel schedule with plans to hit the road for a number of 3-4 day trips with 5-8 churches on each run. School began and then Della went down.

Something happened to her back and she could barely move. The kids were at school, I was planning to be gone immediately, we knew almost no one and we had a brand new extremely active puppy tearing around the house. The whole situation became a sudden nightmare.

I got back on the phone and rescheduled my trips without knowing how long the delay would be. I pushed things out 2-3 weeks. The kids jumped in to take care of “Sparky” when they were home, but none of us could be there 24-7. I took over meals, laundry, and some minor cleaning. I told Della I would do what I could to find a chiropractor and, your have to know her to understand this response, “I don’t want to go.” She didn’t want to see any doctor.

I know a lot of people don’t like chiropractors, but Della’s mother saw one, I could not have continued work at Alpha Dairy in our early days together without one. She knew the benefits. I was just learning that I would have to take over and make her get treatment when it came to her own health. She always just wanted to rest.

I found a guy locally and made her go. She finally began to improve and it took another two weeks before she got back into circulation. In the meantime, a lady from the church came to visit and began cleaning the house, She didn’t ask if she could, she didn’t even offer her services, she just did it. She pitched in with the dishes, the laundry, picked up and made the occasional meal and told me to get back to work she didn’t want to see be getting fired when I just got there.

Maxine cleaned the church and God sent her to our home. Maxine became grandmother to the our kids and came most afternoons to check on things and stayed until the kids got home from school. She was such a blessing. She didn’t even know us.

In time everything settled down. Then one Saturday Rhonda came in through the back patio door and said Sparky is hurt. I went running out, plowed my way through the back row of Arborvitae the empty lot and to the street behind us. A car had hit Sparky. Rod was standing over him with the saddest face and as I approached he said, “He’s dead.” Rhonda was crying. I comforted the kids and told them we should take him home where we would bury him in the back yard. Rod wanted to carry him and did.

It was a solemn afternoon. We quietly prepared his grave, had a small service, said a prayer and said goodbye. That evening was also very quiet. It was the biggest loss out kids had ever faced.

THE NEW JOB chapter 234

The district office was located in a small converted house on Knights Bridge Road just west of the Mollala River. The main grounds of the district owned Canby Grove Conference Center was located across the street. The office was sitting on camp owned property. You could look out east of the office and see the camps swimming pool. In my opinion is was a strange place for the pool since all the camp buildings were across Knights Bridge Road.

Three offices and a storage room was on the main floor. There was the receptionist, superintendent, District Pastor of Church Growth and the bookkeeper on the main floor with a cupboard in the back for supplies gathered for returning missionaries. My office was located upstairs in one of three bedrooms. A large room on that floor was used for meetings.

I met with the District Christian Education Committee a day or so before my first district conference. It was held annually at the camp. It was mostly a time to get acquainted for me and to find out what they had planned and what they do. Daryl Dale, my predecessor, had laid out all their activities. He had not scheduled his normal routine of training waiting for me to set that schedule. All that was scheduled were the next summer’s camp dates. There were two youth and two children’s camps plus the annual family camp where the west side youth camp was held.

The district is large and geographically divided. The Cascade Mountains split between the east from west, Oregon was disconnected from Washington over the size of churches. Every church south of Salem was very small. Alaska was a completely separate world having nothing to do with the rest of the district. Eventually I called the district “The I-5 churches.” Most of our churches were located along the I-5 corridor. The next string ran from Portland to Spokane. The two largest churches were Salem Alliance and North Seattle Alliance. As is typical of large churches, they did their own thing. My charge was to bring all this together. Yeah, right!

The biggest task given to me by DEXCOM was to make the annual Family Camp pay for itself. Since the district owned the camp there was a strange financial arrangement between the two. About three hundred people would come for a week each July and donate what they wanted to pay to the camp for their food and lodging. Every penny the camp was taking in from other rentals throughout the year was needed to cover the cost of Family Camp. There was never money left over for capital improvements or even maintenance. If the pattern continued the district would drive the camp into financial ruin. The task seemed simple — charge for cabins, food and programs like every other camp I knew anything about. Great idea, but it was not the history and history can rule the day. The camp belonged to the district, why should they also pay to use it. That was a hard concept to grasp.

I now had a subject to broach with the pastors as I traveled to the churches. I gathered what information I could locally and from my first meeting with the District Christian Education committee. The task assigned was not going to be easy. In fact, it had the possibility of blowing up in my face.

Main meeting are at the conference,

I managed to get out and meet a few pastors before District Conference near the end of September, but that is where I met most for the first time. I was mostly able to observe and I had very little actual responsibility. I was interviewed but not no report or presentation to make. An announcement was made about my new task for the annual family camp and that sent a boatload of people my way expressing their opinions. It didn’t take long to realize this job could lead to my crucifixion.

“Get rid of the camp orchestra” I didn’t even know we had one. It was a volunteer group led by a now retired former pastor who had been doing it almost from the beginning. The other constant comment was, “We loved it when A. W. Tozer was the speaker. Make it like that again.” Getting Tozer was going to be a challenge. He was dead.

The distant areas of the district did not care what we did with family camp. The rest either loved it or hated it. All I had to do was make everyone love it. No big deal. I was their newest superman.

ARRIVAL IN OREGON chapter 233

We spent out first night in Sandpoint, Idaho. The second day we drove through Spokane, the Tri-cities, Hood River and then began the beautiful drive past Mount Hood, Multnomah Falls to the end of the Oregon Trails – Oregon City and another fifteen miles further to Canby, OR arriving early evening.

We drove straight to the Shellrude’s (District Superintendent) and picked up the key to our new rental house. All our worldly possessions had been delivered to the garage. Ralph and Marion had taken the time to make sure the house was already clean. There were beds set up and all we needed to do was find the bedding and go to sleep. We returned for supper with my new boss and his wife.

Canby Grove Conference Center - Historic Center

Our rental was on the curve where Fifth Street rounded onto Juniper. The Alliance church was just one block down Juniper. The district office was about one mile west and directly across the street from Canby Grove Conference Center. The entire area was lush with greenery, tall firs and gorgeous landscaping. Canby was the nursery capital of the state. They were located all around the area. The whole family was in awe.

In the next few days we got the house set up, visited the church on Sunday where Tim Barton was now acting senior pastor, and I got oriented to my new. I set up a schedule to try and swing through the district and visit most of the churches in the first two months. Just thought it might be best to go to them, see their place of ministry and introduce myself.

Canby was a small town on the Willamette River, which flowed north into the Columbia. The river is the Willamette, not the Williamette like most newcomers want to say – including me. I added the letter “i”. Never do that unless you want to be laughed at like I was.

We took a few days just driving around the area, figuring out what stores were available and checking out the two grocery stores. One was locally owned (Cuttsforth Thriftway) and the other an area chain (Roth’s IGA). Della liked the IGA better because of the customer service. That was not an acceptable choice to the old timers. “We must support local businesses. We didn’t, the first of several rebellions.

We had less than a month to get our kids registered for school. Canby elementary schools were on a year around system and the next new round began in September. The big problem was that our visas had not come through yet and we could not register them without the visas.

Senator Ted Kulongoski (D-OR) was running for reelection and advertized for residents needing help to call his office. Since we could not even find where we were in the visa application process, I called. One of his assistants took our situation seriously and learned the application was sitting in Calgary. What? We asked that it be sent to Vancouver. It wasn’t. The assistant got the visas on fast track and sent them to Vancouver so we could make the trip north quickly. She got the whole process ready for us to drive to sign the final papers in three weeks.

It was a very fast trip. At the Vancouver immigration office we were send to have passport photos taken – again, then come back. We did and sat as the only Caucasians in a large room full of Asians immigrating to the USA. We got our papers and headed back to Peace Portal to enter the country legally. The processing line took forever to get to the guard station and when we got there, we had to go in to have our papers checked because there was something wrong – the passport photos were incorrect. I was upset. We had them taken twice.

“What do we do now?”, I asked  “We don’t normally do this, but we can take the photos here.” They did take them and they took them for free. I paid twice for incorrect photos. They had to be a three quarter face shots with the left ear devoid of hair and clearly visible. It was very precise. After this was all done, we compared the photos and could not tell the difference between any of them. Grrrr!

It was done. The kids were registered two days later and began school the following Monday. We finally were there legally.

ON TO LIFE chapter 232

David drove me back to Lincoln the next morning. I talked to him about my feelings and mom’s response and he did his best to comfort me. “That’s just mom.” “You know how she is.” “She doesn’t mean anything by it.” Etc.

Since I always lived the furthest away from home, I was often the one attempting to explain my mother to the others, especially David. As an adult, he had lived the closest to mom and dad and was the one who cared for them. If they needed anything repaired, he or one of his two boys were over that day to fix it. Yet mom never appreciated what they did and complained about how slow they were or neglectful they were to her needs. The only one she ever praised was our youngest brother. We all knew that he was the only one who continued to “need” her, even as an adult. He was also the one who took advantage of her. She would give him anything she had and often to her own loss.

I understood. Yes that’s the way it was. But it was another of lives loses that I was dealing with. I was very quiet on the drive to Colorado and I finally got talked into explaining my situation. Talking it out made coping easier.

It was beautiful the whole week in Colorado. I enjoyed every moment knowing this would be my last CBC event.

We preformed Adrift in a smaller auditorium probably more than once. We had our own space each night for our comedy routines. Packed the room out every night. The group would perform along paths leading to the auditorium and dining halls entertaining people as they waited. The Portrait Players were a smash hit. I was so very proud of all they did and who they were.

I slipped in to watch some quizzing and to see my friends from the South Pacific, the Rouses. I no longer knew any of their quizzers. I knew more quizzers from Canada, but even that was small. I had been on the sidelines for a few years and was out of circulation. There was a young man named Daryl Smithgall quizzing with the Pacific Northwest District. He knew I was on my way to their area. He told everyone that I was coming and built me up to a reputation I doubted I could ever achieve. He knew because his father was a member of the District Executive Committee (DEXCOM) and dad told him of my move.

From Colorado it was back to Regina and a round of farewells. I was becoming melancholy. I was excited about the move, but knew I was leaving things I would never again experience. My great Regina love for drama would likely come to an end. No more Portrait Players.

Back in Regina as we were all parting ways a Portrait Player made a comment I have never forgotten and never heard before. They wished they had not been a Portrait Player and regretted the whole experience. While surprised, I thanked them for sticking with me for the year and not walking out and wished them the best. If they intended to crush my spirit, they succeeded. It was a hard note on which to end my CBC career.

The next couple of weeks were spent packing and saying goodbye. United Van Lines came and packed our breakables and two days later loaded our things to take to Oregon. We had contacted immigration several times as our visa’s had not yet come though. We were coming down to the wire and really needed them. We finally decided we had to go and asked them to transfer the paper work to Vancouver for finalization. We had to leave.

We spend our last night with Bill and Anna Rose before going on to Red Deer to see Merla and Della’s family. From there we headed down through Sandpoint and the closer we got to the border the harder we prayed that there would not ask a question we could not answer honestly. I did not want them to ask, “How long do you expect to stay?” I could not say permanently as my family did not have visas. They never asked. We were through and on our way to Oregon.

We had no idea how much we would miss our Canadian friendships. Some would be maintained, but most would fade away. That is a normal life transition. I loved working with the Christian and missionary Alliance, but my connections were all in Canada and the countries were in the process of separating organizationally. I wouldn’t even have the once a year contact at general council. I was once again an American.

LINCOLN, NB chapter 231

From Stoneybrook we moved on several stops to Western Pennsylvania and a quiz meet at a camp near Butler. I was scheduled to be the quizmaster for their district finals. The Portrait players were also scheduled to perform several of their comedy skits. There were some buildings on the grounds that reminded us of an old movie western. Since The Gunfight was part of our program we took several group photos in costume against this fun background.

We lumbered our way west to our final church stop before going on to LIFE ’80 at Estes Park, Colorado. Lincoln, Nebraska was the home of Mrs. Ethel Bell and her daughter Mary (Bell) Whitbeck. It was also less than thirty miles from Beatrice, Nebraska the home of my mother and my brother David and his family. They would be at the performance.

Ethel Bell and Mary (Bell) Whitbeck in the lower right corner.

I was excited about performing for Mrs. Bell but also concerned for her. No one really knew what she would remember, if anything about this story of her time on the raft. Ethel had Alzheimer’s. There was a fair amount of media coverage. and Back to the Bible radio staff turned out in numbers.

My family arrived before the show and I took them back to the makeup room to meet the Portrait Players. Having my family there also made me very nervous. They had never seen, heard or read anything I have ever done. I never really knew my mothers spiritual status. Dad was the obvious Christian in my family. David, my favorite brother, abandoned church in high school for the same reason as my other siblings and why I left that church for another. The extreme legalism drove them all crazy. In David’s case he and my older brother, Harlow, had some difficult run-ins with the pastor and his wife. There was no love lose between them. David’s actions and language screamed believer, but he had nothing to do with church.

All of this made me wonder about their response. In addition, I was going to play the captain that night. This night was the reason I cast myself in the rotation. I was desperate for parental approval. Mom had never told me she was proud of me. She had never encouraged me nor built me up. I was 38 years old and still longing for my mom’s approval. I knew something was wrong with my thinking, but it did not change my drive for her approval. I felt like there was so much attention to the story I wrote, the play I wrote, and even to some extent the role I was playing that she could not help herself. She would finally say, “Great job, Clyde.”

I introduced the Portrait Players to my family and got through mom, my nieces and nephews and their family, my sister-in-law Betty but could not remember David’s name. Total blank. Betty had to remind me who he was. I nearly died of embarrassment. Whoops.

The play went well, the reception was nice. Ethel Bell knew the story was about her but did not remember the story. But she was delightful and thrilled to be the focus of the evening.

I went to Beatrice to spend the night with my mother in her trailer. On the ride to Beatrice the family talked about the play and caught me up on what the family was currently doing. Mom said nothing on the entire trip home. When inside her trailer, she made some tea and served cookies as we sat. She then began giving me her version of what was wrong with my siblings. It had always been this way. She was gifted at finding fault and I hear about them all. I was the only one left out of the equation. I was not naïve. I knew that when I was not around, I was added to that list and my faults were laid bare for the others to hear.

As I was headed for bed that night, I could resist no longer. I had to ask what she thought of the play. Her only response was, “It was nice.” I said nothing more. I went to bed doubting I would ever hear those words of approval I so desired. 

FLAT TIRE chapter 230

      That was our first flat time. What do we do now? The team was looking to me for answers. I walked on to the stage and told the team to flip the raft up so the audience could see the bottom and to change the tire. I wanted the audience to see what our problem and then I explained the situation.

Normally, we kept a spare tube blown up and ready to use at the back. We wanted to be prepared incase something like this ever happened. Well, there was no tube waiting and ready. Garry told me we would have to blow the spare up. That was going to take some time. The replacement work would take at least five or six minutes, maybe longer.

I began telling the audience stories of things had gone wrong on tour. I told them about all our on the road plays and skits.

Duane Patterson was so good looking that teen girls lined up to beg their parents to take him to their houses for the billet. This year they were choosing Terry.

We were in a very old and tiny church that had only fuses and all electrical outlets (2, I believe) were on the same circuit. We needed two circuits to run our system and had to gather up extension cords to run half our system from the parsonage.

I told the story of our first USA performance of No Time for Tombstones and the solder that dived under the pew when the AK47 showed up and the sound effects went off.

We were in a church that had stairs up from the basement that ended at the center of the stage (very strange). We were at a very quiet part of the play, I believe when Hank Blood was dying, and a Vietnamese soldier was sitting off stage near the top of the stairs when a fake hand grenade fell off his belt and bounced down hitting every single step all the way to the bottom.

There was the time when Garry got sick in the middle of a performance. We were on a school stage. There was a scene of a forced march and I directed them to take it back of the stage curtain instead of through the auditorium and while back stage Harvey exchanged shirts with Garry and took his place. No one ever knew.

There was the little boy who was so angry at Con, who was playing the Vietnamese Captain, that he came out after the show, kicked him in the shin and told him, “You’re mean.”

I told them of my perchance for promptness and our escapade in Hamilton when we needed new tires and Con and I were very late picking up the team to go on to the next stop. The rest of the team left a note in the foyer saying they had gone on without us, but they left their purses.

I told them of going to Morden, Manitoba where we had forgot all the makeup. We decided to make some yellow makeup from a mixture of mustard and Mayo found in the church fridge. In dull lights it didn’t look too bad, but it itched like crazy.

Then there was the snowstorm we fought our way through in the return from Morden to Regina. The engine compartment of the van got packed with snow and the van was crawled to a stop. Harvey did not have a winter coat and was freezing. We flagged down one car to ask for help and got nothing even asking that they stop at the next town and report our problem to the RCMP. They didn’t do that. The second car and two college guys somewhat drunk, but did help. Ultimately we crawled our way in our dying van back to Regina thanking God we had not frozen to death.

When the tire for the raft was reinstalled, I apologized and we started form the beginning. The audience had some laughs and was more much relaxed and happy. God allowed them to enjoy the performance.

The play went on without a hitch and was well received. One lady who at times wrote play reviews for the New York Times, wrote one for us that was published in the community paper. She reported that we told the story very well without pushing Christianity down their throats. She greatly appreciated our approach and the quality of the production. 

After the performance, Bob Bell brought a man over and introduced him to us. He was George, one of the sailors from the raft. What a surprise. He had traveled from Florida at Bob’s request just to see the play. We had a wonderful time with him. He talked a lot with Terry that night. Terry had portrayed him in the play.

Top right photos: Top row L-R: Clyde, Gary, George (our guest), Terry, 2nd row L-R: Duncan, Garry, 3rd row L-R: Carolyn, Lori Bob Bell, Dave, Front Rhonda, Betty

FINAL TOUR chapter 229

I was in and out of the 1980 Portrait Players summer tour. I really only remember certain parts of the tour. I don’t believe I left at the beginning of the tour with the team. I think I picked them up somewhere in Ontario for the trip to the Maritimes and into New York.

I had never been to Québec and joined them for the stop in Montreal. We had no difficulties there. We could always find someone who spoke English. I had no team members with a French Canadian background and only a couple with a little French from high school. I saw why people were so fascinated with the city. It was clean, beautiful and elegant – at least the parts we saw. Our problems came further east as we were crossing the province heading further east. We had stopped at a place with a McDonalds sign along the highway. We needed food and a restroom. We did not find anyone who spoke or understood English, at least no one who would acknowledge speaking English. Culturally there was a resentment of English Canadians who neither spoke nor understood French. That was certainly us. We managed to order without French, thanks to pictures. A Big Mack looks the same in all languages.

It was along ways to get to the Maritimes. I really wanted to take the ferry to Prince Edwards Island just to say I had been there. That did not happen. As it was we were only in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. St. Johns, NB was old, dirty and depressed. The people were wonderful but the place was poor.

From Canada, our next stop was Nyack, New York, the old and historical Simpson Memorial Church and the headquarters of the Christian and Missionary Alliance. We had stepped into the history of the C&MA. The town also reeked with history – the home of actress Helen Hayes, the birthplace of the Alliance and the home of Nyack College where it all began.

We always had a primary comedy skit we did each year. We had stopped at a Bible quiz meet in PA where I believe I was the quizmaster. That camp had some terrific buildings. We did several skits including “The Gunfight” and got dressed for some great photos on the porch of an old building. The audience was loaded with C&MA big shots. The biggest surprise was how few spoke to me at the performance. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the silence was deafening.

The next day we left for Stoneybrook, New York. To get there we had to go through New York City. What a zoo. I knew some of my way around Manhattan so decided we could drive through to see some of the sights. Taking a van pulling a trailer in that city was crazy. The traffic was so heavy and at one point there was no way to get though a space without the drivers side mirror hitting another trucks mirror. Had to do it.

Stoneybrook was a very wealthy area and it looked to rich for our blood. The school where Bob Bell was principle was old, somewhat ivy covered and stuffy. We were to perform in the school auditorium. It may have seated 300-400. While they had stage lights, we had to set ours up because of the time it would take to readjust all they had and then put it back the way it was. Rather than controlling our lights and sound from the back of the auditorium we were running things from the side of the stage. Outlets and cord length were problems. As a result our controls were located about ten feet from the raft.

The evening began rather tense. It was clear the audience was primarily Jewish and they were tense about us being there. I was very concerned about the possible reaction, but we were here and we were going to perform. This was for Bob Bell.

The lights went down and the audience quieted. The music began, the lights came up slowly as the actors crawled up on the raft seeming to come out of the water. A few lines were spoken and suddenly there was the sound of air escaping and the raft settled with a thud on the stage. One of our two inner tubes supporting the raft sprung a leak. We had a flat in the most hostile situation for a performance we had ever faced.

All the actors turned and looked off stage at me with expressions that said, “What do we do now?”

OK, WE’LL COME chapter 228

It was right around Youth Conference when Ralph Shellrude called to say he had found a rental we could afford in Canby and would we reconsider and come. The senior pastor at the Canby church had resigned and was moving to take a church in Australia. He was willing to rent his home to us. We would have preferred to buy, but it was a start that would let us get into the area. Della and I reconsidered.

Our visas were already in process. We had not stopped the application when we first said no, thankfully. It was time to give some moving bids. We have begun accumulating “things” and needed more than a U-Hall to get our things down there. We had also been told it would be easier crossing the boarder if we turned it over to professionals.

Tim and Heather Barton were at the Canby Church as the youth pastor. He was going to remain after the senior pastor departed. There had been another pastor on staff who had already left. I knew nothing in advance of the departure of these two senior men and we both felt concerned about Tim and Heather being the only ones left in the church and wondered if we might be able to be a support and encouragement to them. Former students always held a soft spot for both of us even though we didn’t know them well.

We made the decision to go. I was very nervous about the decision as I still had a month of school left, a tour and a commitment to be at LIFE ’80. I was worried that my heart would begin to leave and that did gradually happened. Information was being forwarded to me from the district office. At the same time I was trying to keep my head in teaching. My passion to teach was pretty well gone two weeks before the end of school year. I was dreaming of what would come. I was just going through the paces and finally just canceled some classes in the last week. I knew the students would appreciate that. Finals were coming and they were all happy for the extra time.

The decision was made and now we just needed to finish well.

PREMIERE chapter 227

The day finally arrived and our special quests were picked up at the airport and taken to their hotel. After both couples arrived and were settled they were brought to the college for supper and a tour of the campus. The front row was reserved for them, the Rambo’s and my family. Bob and Mary with their spouses came back to the choir room before the show where the cast was getting into costume and makeup and were introduced to the cast and the characters they would play. I was hoping that might make the cast a little less nervous, but it might have actually increased the tension.

It was still very much a Regina winter for the premiere. It might have even been snowing. All the area churches had been invited. There would be two shows that night, one with each of the cast arrangements. For both shows the auditorium was packed. Dale Dirksen played the sound track live. There was little doubt that this was the most exciting opening the Portrait Players had ever had. The biggest mistake of the evening was that no one, including me, even thought to invite the area media. I couldn’t believe the error. We missed TV and newspaper coverage and missed out on the free publicity the production would have brought.

Both shows went off without a hitch. Our guests were introduced to the audience after each show. We had photos taken with the Bells and Whitbecks and naturally anticipated with excitement their reactions to having their lives portrayed on stage. They loved it. Mary loved the dialogue as they longed for certain foods and the kids focused on ice cream. The play triggered memories they had long forgotten. They had forgotten the moodiness of the Bos’un and the food being stolen at night even though they told me about both. The captain was even more distant than portrayed. It was like his mind went into a different place. Certainly he was crushed that his ship was sunk. They were broken by the death of one of the sailors and remembered the pain of those loses, and knowing the sharks attack the discarded body. No one watched. It felt like the sharks sensed impending death and just waited patiently for the coming meal. They may have also expected some one to fall overboard, but that never happened. The storms they encountered were frightening and Mary commented that she felt the fear again during that scene.

They were very complementary and felt like we captured the emotion of their ordeal. The cast was walking on air. We enjoyed the success of the evening and the interaction with our guests.

We made plans right then to be in each of their hometowns while on tour. Bob told us more about the Stoneybrook, where he was principle. It was made up predominately of Jewish families and while he wanted the play to come, he had no idea their reaction. They did not know of his time on the raft. They might not take kindly to a “Christian” story being told. but he wanted them to see his story to know more about his background. Lincoln, Nebraska would receive us with open arms. The whole of Back to the Bible staff would show and for me it would also be the first time any of my family would see anything I had ever done. My brother David, his family and my mother lived in Beatrice, Nebraska 22 miles south of Lincoln.

Top L-R to Bottom: 1. Cast with Dale at a reception being introduced. 2. Grant as the captain 3. Mary (Bell) Whitbeck. 4. Grant McDowell, Ron Freeman ('79 PP) Ruth Mitchell ('79 PP) Dave Thompson. 5. Della at reception with students. 6. Garry, Grant, and Gary in the play. 7 Mary Whitbeck with Gary and Rhonda.

1. Carolyn at Mary. 2. Cast in make-up. 3. Dale performing the score. 4. Cast at curtain call. 5. Rhonda (as Mary) Mary Whitbeck, Bob Bell and Lori (as Bob). 6. Garry (back) David, Gary, Grant and Duncan (why Grant has hand over Duncans face I do not know)

I think these shots are from a rehearsal in the gym. I did play the captain, but not often. I will explain later.

1. Promo flyer. 2. Prayer before a performance on the raft. 3. Horse play. 4. Make-up.

1. Dave Rambo, Me and Rod. 2. Mary (Bell) Whitbeck. 3. Photo of the actual raft at the rescue from the rescuing ship. 4. Bob Bell

CANADIAN ROCKIES chapter 226

It was the summer of ’78 that we hiked the Canadian Rockies up near Jasper National Park. There were six guys: Ken Badley and his nephew, a friend of Ken’s and his little brother and my son Rod and I. The three boys were all around eleven-years-old. The other two men had done a lot of hiking, but this was a first for Rod and I.

We took two cars and parked mine at the end of the trail and took Ken’s to the start. We register our hike with the RCMP just incase something. Della and Rhonda went to Red Deer with her.

The weather for the entire trip was terrific. Nice bright days and no rain. Mornings were chilly and the days were hot. We divided up the equipment and supplies with each of us packing a portion including the boys. We planned to camp for three nights. Each pair had their own pup tent. We ate well, enjoyed all the scenery and kept hoping for more wild life. Saw almost no animals. It was the third day when two of the boys rushed on ahead.

We caught up with the rest at what appeared to be a clearing.  We saw to two young boys on what appeared to be a snow slope screaming for help. It wasn’t, it was all ice and there were rocks and fallen limbs at the bottom of the slide. If the boys slipped any further it appeared unlikely they would be able to stop when they reached the bottom.

Ken and his friend were yelling at them to stay put and not move and they would come and get them. They took ice picks to cut footholds to get out to them. Thee were out about 20 feet.

Rod and I sat on a log watching and praying as the scene developed. It took close to two hours to slowly hack their way out and back with the boys. They were frightened and their rescuers exhausted so we stopped early for our last night of camping.

We reached trails end early the next morning and found a note on my car from the RCMP asking me to contact them as soon as possible. We all knew something was wrong. The note simply said, “Call your wife.” My father had passed away and the funeral was the next day. Mom wanted me there. I told Della to call and book the last flight out of Calgary to Denver on to Omaha hoping to get there that same night. The only clothes I had were for the hike.

Rod and I took the others to their car and left immediately for Red Deer, Alberta. We quickly went to Eaton’s to get me a suit; shirt, tie and shoes then drove directly to the airport to catch my flight. I called my brother David from the airport to let him know the flight arrangements.

I don’t know how we did everything, but I made the connection and got to Denver in time for the connecting flight then the delays began. We boarded the to flight to Omaha and waited and waited and waited. Nearly two hours later the flight was canceled. Equipment failure, whatever that was. I tried to arrange the first flight Saturday to Omaha hoping I would get there before the funeral. It was not possible. I let David know and told him I would come anyway to be with mom and the family,

Continental Airlines put me up in a nearby hotel. Early Saturday morning they called my room to say they had put on a special early flight and the bus would be at the hotel to pick me up in 30 minutes. I never took a faster shower, dressed for the funeral and called David to say I would arrive (if all went well) Just as the funeral was scheduled to begin. Dave said he would meet me and we would go straight to the funeral.

Dave was there with his car at the curb so we could get out quickly. I remember walking out of the airport into the Omaha summer heat and instantly being dripping wet. My suit was sopping and we were off. Dave was flying low. Mom would not begin the funeral until I arrived. Yes, I was embarrassed to have all eyes staring as I walked in late — but I was there.

THE DECISION chapter 225

We got a brief tour of Canby that evening and again before we left the next morning. Crocus was out and tulips were pushing through the ground. Spring was arriving early.

Della and I talked about what to do that night. Frankly, I was not expecting to receive a call until I was sitting in the conference room. Something about it told me I needed to consider the ministry. When Ralph called telling me of the invitation I told him that I could not decide now. We would need time to talk it over and pray. As I had told my class, “One should always say they would pray about it, even if one knew they wanted the job. It sounds spiritual.” In this case, I needed to. I expected to go back home and all would remain as it had been.

On the flight back to the winter wonderland called Regina, I told Della that it would be impossible for me to decide till much later in the school year because if we chose to go my heart and mind would jump there immediately and there was a lot of school year still before me.

We were given nearly two weeks before we got our first call from Ralph asking our decision. I tried to explain the difficulty facing our decision. It was just too early for us. We had not even gotten to spring break yet. I was trying to push the decision until at least mid March. The District was not willing to wait that long. They wanted someone there by summer. Even before we candidated, I was the choice of Ralph Shellrude and Daryl Dale who was then the National Youth Director. I had no idea why Daryl had asked me to candidate. I told him that was the responsibility of the Superintendent and could not consider the invitation unless it came from the Superintendent. Ralph then called.

It felt like Della and I were discussing this and weighing the pros and cons nearly every day, at the same time, the Adrift premiere was fast approaching and we were in the middle of rehearsals. We would finish that and turn right around and gear up for youth conference.

Finally we gathered the family together and included the children in the decision. If we moved, it would clearly affect them as well as us. Both were enthusiastic and Della and I have moved that way so every thing was go. I called Ralph and told him we would come, if we could find housing. I had to be in New York during Spring Break and I asked that they fly me from New York to Portland for a two-day house search. They agreed and paid the travel difference.

In the meantime, we began the process of getting visas for my Canadian family. We were told it would take six months or more. We would need those visas in four months.

In March, everything in Canby was in bloom. Canby is the garden center of Oregon and there are nurseries all around. They hooked me up with a realtor and I was taken to look at houses. I hated everything I was shown. They were run down worse than our place on Victoria when we first moved in there. The reason I could not get into anything I might have liked was that the current interest rate in 1980 was 16%, Shocking. There was nothing we were going to be able to afford. Even with a good salary, everything was out of our reach.

I had been in Salem Alliance that Sunday morning and Canby Alliance that night. Ralph and I sat in front of Stuart, the local town bum. He stunk and then got up to speak at a sharing time and made absolutely no sense. The leader thanked him for his comments. When they went to take the offering they could not find the offering baskets. I was rolling my eyes. What was wrong with this little church? Did I really want to expose my family to this?

I said nothing until we got in Ralph’s car after the service. “If I come, we will attend Salem Alliance.” Ralph felt like that was not a good image for district personnel. I also told him there was nothing I could afford anyway because the interest rate was so high. I apologized and told him that we would not be coming. I needed a good church and affordable housing.