Tonight I’d like to share three “show and tells.” I have so much to share; I’m going to try to cram these into one highlight. I hope you don’t mind. One is about a Photo. One about a Diary. One about an old Organ. Some last names I would like for you to remember are: Fincham, Peverill, Shorb, Jennings, and Poole. This historic Photo is from the Annual Campmeeting of the New York Conference, Philadelphia District, which is who we were before we became our own Maryland-Virginia Conference. It was held in Washington, D. C., near what is now Bladensburg, Maryland. It is dated July 14 – 30, 1922. You can see tents in the background. It was given to me by Anna (Woodward) Poole and is on display in the Camp Museum. (It’s the one being viewed by Anna’s granddaughter, Nicole Poole.)

Nicole Poole

On the second row, one can see a man named Wayman Fincham. He is holding my mother, Doris Smith. She is three years old, and you can tell from the way he is holding her arms, that she is paralyzed. She was stricken with polio that year so Mr. Fincham is holding her arms up for her. I can also see the rest of my mother’s family including her parents, Frank and Fannie Smith, and her grandparents, George and Fannie Peverill, who I told you about last night. The first church in Alexandria was started in their home in 1879. They were expecting their first child that year. Now it is 43 years later. They ended up with a family of ten children, nine girls and one boy; all of whom I think are in this photo. This helps explain why I am related to so many people here. Mr. Fincham, the man holding my mother in the photo, was our camp manager for more than 40 years.

He drove his Gospel Truck back and forth to New York many times to haul tents and other camping gear to our campground. He was a devoted Christian. Wil Shorb told me a neat story about him. One day, in 1927, Mr. Fincham met a young man named Wilbert Shorb (Wil’s father). He invited him to Camp, when it was being held on a farm in Glenmont, Maryland, four years before the campmeeting group settled here. Mr. Shorb went to the altar at the Glenmont campmeeting and gave his heart to the Lord. He had not been from a Christian family. It was a profound decision, changing the life of the family forever. Wilbert, Senior, joined the Layhill Free Methodist Church, and later had four sons, Hubert, Wilbert, Merlin, and Raymond. Three of them, better known to us as Happy, Merl, and Wil, went on to become known as “The Shorb Brothers” and sang Christian music professionally for many, many years. They had at least 16 albums recorded (I have them all). Wil published an inspirational book called “This Is Your Day,” which I also have, and was on Christian radio for a long time. We love the Shorb Brothers, our hometown musicians who started out at Layhill Free Methodist Church. We are overjoyed that they will be singing for us on Sunday as part of our 75th anniversary celebration. I’m so glad that Wayman Fincham invited “Pappy” Shorb to camp way back in 1927, and that he and his wife, Marion, whom he met at Chesbrough Seminary (now Roberts Wesleyan College) chose to live for Christ. We have many members of the Shorb Family on the campground this evening. I can’t imagine what the life of the church and our lives personally would have been like without their influence. Looking closely again at the old photo, I can also recognize Rev. and Mrs. Jesse Jennings. (He was yet to become the founding Elder of our Camp.) They are holding their baby boy, Milton. They are Arn Critzer’s grandparents. (Arn’s mother must be in this picture, too.) Our family always expressed special love for the Jennings family, but I never knew until recently how the relationship began. This photo was taken in July of 1922, but let me skip back to March of 1922, which brings me to the Diary I mentioned. On a Saturday two years ago, Arn Critzer brought me a photocopy of his grandfather’s diary. As I sat on the front porch of our cabin on a hot August afternoon, I couldn’t read fast enough. I was mesmerized by the musings of what might otherwise have been perceived as mundane events in the life of an ordinary man. But this was clearly not the case. Rev. Jennings’ writing revealed an extraordinary passion for and commitment to a heavenly Father he knew as a friend. He called upon Him every morning and every evening. He wrote of joys and longings; family illnesses (a wife and two little children sick for more than a week during a cold, rainy, depressing time); as well as failed job searches; and events surrounding church services. As I raced through pages of personal triumphs and defeats, I came across a passage, which stopped me in my tracks and caused my heart to rejoice. On page 63, in an entry dated Saturday, March 4, 1922, Rev. Jennings wrote: “This is a day when the devil was trying my soul out, when in comes Brother George Peverill, and notwithstanding the downpour of rain outside, he brought and left sunshine, and my soul was singing the balance of the day.” George Peverill was my great grandfather. He would have been 72, yet still mentoring. Blessed be the ties that bind our hearts in Christian love! This brings me to the Organ story. When we mentioned we wanted to do a Camp Museum, Debby Poole offered me the old pump organ from the Spencerville Church. Her late husband, Chip, had purchased it when the church upgraded to a later model. As soon as I got it, I took it all apart to see how it was made. I found a serial number and the words “Estey Organ Company, Brattleboro, Vermont.” I went to my computer, and just on a whim, typed in “esteyorgan.com.” To my surprise a wonderful, historical website came up, and from the serial number I had found inside, I was able to determine that the organ was manufactured in 1903. You must come and see it. Spencerville obtained the organ in the nineteen forties, and Kenny Poole played it most of the time. One time Ken broke a bone in his foot, and his wife, Anna, sat beside him on the tiny seat and pumped the pedals, while Ken played the keys.

Estey Organ

Ken remembers the first funeral it was used for was his grandfather’s, and that would have been in the early forties. Ken’s grandfather was Luther Poole, one of the men who sold this property to us so that we might have a campground. Luther and his wife Maggie owned Cabin 5, the cabin where I teach the Beginner’s Bible School every morning. This cabin later passed to their daughter, Evelyn, who enjoyed it over a lifetime with her husband, George Grauel, and their three sons. I’m quite grateful for this sturdy little cabin with the tin roof and for the Poole family who have been faithful members of the Free Methodist church through the years. Ken’s mother and father were Iola and Lewis Poole. Some of their Depression glass (green sherbets), Bibles, and diaries are displayed in the new Camp Museum. And, by the way, when I was examining the inside of the old organ, I found a hickory nut and a Milky Way candy bar wrapper. Just who was this historic snacker? I’m guessing it was the proverbial church mouse!

Update 6/2/2007