According to his 1983 obit, the much-loved Reverend Herbert H. Cooper “went to Christ Church in 1936 and served (as rector) there for 36 years.” These delightful and humorous reminisences were written by Rev. Cooper, apparently upon his retirement. They provide an entertaining look at an earlier time in the town’s history, the life of a hardworking local minister, and some of the special, kind, and unique characters that comprised the membership of the church and our town…
“SMILES IN THE AISLES – or – 36 IS NOT ENOUGH
(The Rector was at Christ Church from 1935 – 1971)
I remember when:
I was invited to John R. Montgomery’s house for dinner (black tie was expected for every meal after 7 p.m.) and I was not sure where he lived (the streets were not named) so I sought and found his home in the afternoon. I left a trail of bits of paper so that I could follow it there after dark.
The Rev. Malcolm Douglas, my predecessor, was called one Sunday afternoon by Mrs. John R. Montgomery with the message that she had lost her purse in the pew. He told her to call Mr. Tom Douglas, the local plumber, with her complaint.
I was asked by Bernard Day to baptize his son. His father, the great auctioneer, had hithertofore always done the baptizing. At the church Mr. Joe Day became restive and asked where the “bloke” was who was to do the baptizing. Bernard said “He’s standing next to you, Dad” Mr. Day looked at me and said “Why do they send a boy to do a man’s job?” We became great friends and during World War II he gave his mansion (with an organ) for Sunday School weekly services and finally gave his handsome stable for that purpose. He also gave the Church a one acre lot for a Mission in the Day estate. The first Christmas Service was held in his stable.
Ed Pettigrew was a great friend of mine. I first met him at the Rotary Club. I called him “Mr. Pettigrew” but he did not like that. One day he said, “You call me Ed and I’ll call you Harry.” This went on for years all because I didn’t have the nerve to tell him at the outset that my name was not “Harry” but rather “Herb”.
Our son Jimmy, now Rector of Christ Church, Ponte Vedra, FL, was our “hellion.” One Easter Day I came home to the rectory only to find him counting stacks and stacks of money. My mind immediately flew to the collection plate. I questioned him; his answer was simple. He said, “You know I do not like hard-boiled eggs and red jelly beans so I took them out of my basket and went down to the front door of the Church and sold them to the people when they came out. He also had the habit of coming in his Doctor Denton’s to sit with me at the close of a hard Sunday (seven services plus baptisms) I would have a glass of beer at that time. One Sunday we had a straight-laced minister as speaker for the Y.P.F. On the way home I allowed as how a good cold beer would go well. The minister rebuffed me and said, “You are not inferring that we are going to imbibe of an alcoholic beverage.” I said, “No, that is the farthest thing from my mind.” We proceeded to the rectory. As we entered I called out, “Kay, do we have anything cold to drink, like ice-water, iced tea, lemonade?” I went to the kitchen and made the usual “ice-box” noises only to hear a piping voice from over the banister saying, “You have company and there are only two bottles of beer in the box and I am not going to have any tonight!” I assume that replicas of my liver and Jimmy’s liver were shown to horrified audiences for a long time thereafter.
I came home from Dr. Robert E. Lee’s office one night and at the dinner table, related that the doctor said I was not to answer the phone at mealtime. “What will I do?” I asked. Kay answered, “I’ll just say you are not at home.” I demurred this for a while and then the phone rang. Jimmy answered it and in a loud voice cried out “Dad, it’s for you. Make up your mind, are you home or aren’t you?” Needless to say my reception on the phone was cool.
One day I went to the Diocesan House to present a candidate to Bishop Washburn for Confirmation. In packing my bag, Mrs. Harold Brown, my wonderful secretary, packed Dr. Robert Buchanan’s cassock by mistake. When I arrived at the Diocesan House another priest was there; he donned a handsome cassock which fitted him like a glove. I put mine on only to find it was nearly two feet too long (Dr. Buchanan was 6’4″), so I folded it up under my cincture. All went well until the last prayer after which I was appointed to extinguish the candles. I began to get up, caught the hem of the cassock under my foot, and proceeded to walk up the inside of my cassock. With each step forward my nose came closer to the floor. The Bishop with his Vermont humor simply announced “That’s the way they do it in the DIOCESE OF Short Hills.”
One night I had to call on a patient in Old St. Barnabas Hospital on High Street, Newark. As I was leaving I heard unsteady footsteps behind me. It was winter and I drew my overcoat up and covered my clerical collar. The footsteps quickened and soon the man came along side. He looked at me astonished and said, “Could you, could you give me – Oh! Pardon me, Fodder, I thought you was a gentleman!”
We had a tremendous Sunday School. Each year we took the students on a picnic. We engaged seven buses from the deCamp lines and took them off. Meanwhile there was to be a wedding in the church later that afternoon. The bride’s father was a hail fellow well met and had all kinds of friends. His wife had remonstrated with him to keep the guest list down, but she knew she could not prevail. Imagine her chagrin when she arrived at the Church only to find seven 60-passenger buses lined up in front of the church!
At a wedding I believed that the mother of the bride who worked so hard should have some part. So when the bride’s father was asked “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” I suggested that the bride’s father say, not “I do” but rather “The bride’s mother and I do.” I cautioned him to speak loudly and clearly. At this point in the ceremony the bride’s father practically shouted, “The bride’s FATHER and I dol”
I have always loved Father (now Monsignor) Ryan of St. Rose of Lima Roman Catholic Church. We were making plans for the enlargement of Christ Church; we were going to push the altar back 70 feet. I took the plans to Father Ryan and asked for a donation. He replied that he could not make a donation to a Protestant church but asked me to describe our plans. I left without a donation but later he called me to invite me to have breakfast with him. When I arrived, I saw a check under one of the glass plates. “You say you are going to push the altar back 70 feet,” he said. “Then you may have my donation.” I reached under the plate and took the check. It read, “To Christ Church in Short Hills, one hundred dollars for the demolition of its altar.” Not to be outdone by this, I discovered that there was a magazine called “The Churchman” which had the reputation of maligning the Roman Catholic Church at every turn. I told Father Ryan that I had enlisted him for a “life membership” as a “Churchman.”
We had over 200 Cub Scouts at Christ Church. Mrs. Norman Wiss founded the first Cub Scout pack in the United States and we are proud of that. We had a boxing exhibition among the boys and on the final night I went up to Madam Bey’s Training Camp in Summit and got Primo Carnero to referee for us. He came down with me in my small Chevrolet and had to sit in the rear seat because two of us could not fit in the front seat. As he entered Parish Hall, Freddie Wiss, then nine years old, met him. Primo Carnero, a huge man, took one of his massive boxing gloves and pulled it over Freddie’s head down to the shoulder line!
Each Saturday morning (and on Thanksgiving morning) the members of the Millburn High School football team (as many as 46) gathered at the church for a Communion Service, then a “Training Table” meal for 50¢. They each received ½ Ib. steak, a serving of string beans, toast and jelly, a cup of hot tea and two sour ball candies. I don’t know whether it was the praying or the eating, but Millburn’s teams were never more successful. It was gratifying to note that there was a huge group of high school juniors and seniors who were able to carry the ball on Saturdays and willing to carry the Cross on Sundays.
Even though we took pride in being known as “The Community Church” we constantly presented huge classes of children and adults for Confirmation. Bishop Washburn, after confirming 268 people in one class, said “From all the people the Rector has baptized, I can see that he probably has “dish-water” hands.”
Bishop Ludlow was a splendid-looking man–every bit a Bishop. He was also a humble man. It took all of my persuading to get him to wear his resplendent Bishop robes when he served at services in Christ Church as assistant to me. He probably was the best assistant I ever had. In the Processionals and in the Recessionals behind a great choir, I made sure he always walked behind me–the last position being the highest in standing. However, it was brought to my attention that some parishioners were perturbed by the fact that Herb Cooper always pushed before Bishop Ludlow to leave that wonderful older man last to enter or last to leave the church.
Bishop Ludlow, as I said, was a majestic figure especially in the Chancel with the bright lights shining on a gorgeous shock of white hair. One Easter Day the Bishop was in the Chancel; I had been talking to the primary grades of Sunday School children about the Risen Christ.The recessional hymn was “Jesus Christ is Risen Today.” The hymn began and Bishop Ludlow stood up. A little tot in the first pew yelled out “There he is! He is coming up now!”
Crucifers are a unique lot. Quite often they were called upon to serve at (sometimes too long) oratorios. I allowed them to volunteer for these services. One day I went into the Crucifers’ room and there was a notice on the bulletin board reading: “Crucifers wanted for tonight’s Oratorio Service. Volunteer. Sign here for the Suicide Squad!”
An assistant once wrote the following for an issue of “The Messenger”: The Y.P.F. will meet tonight at 7:30. The discussion will be “The Seven Cardinal Sins.” Supper will be served for twenty-five cents. The subject tonight will be Gluttony.”
In the Order of Service the following was listed:
“Sermon by the Rev. Herbert H. Cooper
Recessional Hymn: The Strife is O’er”!
A Messenger printed a hymn: “O Little Town of Bethlehem, How steel we see thee lie.”
Remark heard at the church door: Wife: “Mr. Cooper’s sermon was too long this a.m.” Husband: “No, it wasn’t too long – it just SEEMED too long!”
Request of WNEW announcer (when we were on the air): “Mr. Cooper, when you come close to the microphone, stop singing!”
At the church door this rector tried to make everyone welcome. I took pride in knowing parishioner’s names. A lady approached me and I did not know her name. Trying to cover up I said, “How do you spell your last name?” The lady replied “It has always been “B-R-O-W-N.”
A new church attendee brought his mother to the church at Christmas Eve. I called him by name. His mother, amazed, said “Does Joe attend this church?” I answered “Joe doesn’t go to any other church” and won a friend for life.
The WNEW radio announcer evidently enjoyed himself at Christ Church when he broadcasted from here. He was overheard to say “We ought to call that Cooper fellow ‘Cinderella Cooper’ he’s always in the aisle on his way out at exactly 12 o’clock.”
One neighbor complained vociferously when we installed the Carillon; she even threatened suit at one point. After it had been a month or so, it did not ring one night at 6 p.m. and she stormed into the church office, outraged because it had NOT rung.
In May, 1962, I received an Honorary Doctor of Divinity Degree from my alma mater, the Virginia Theological Seminary, and in October 1965, I received an Honorary Doctorate in Humane Letters from my alma mater, Lafayette College. In my response at the luncheon I said, “A doctor raised to the second power is a ‘square.’”
The Memorial Garden was one of my greatest dreams. It will provide a cost free $1,000,000 endowment for Christ Church and will provide a peaceful, secure resting place for the ashes of parishioners. It has had many enemies who have fought it tooth and nail; some of them even went so far as to name it Cooper’s Lay-Away Plan.
Shortly after our son John was born I called the rectory and little Joyce answered the phone. Wishing to make Kay’s work lighter, I told Joyce that I was bringing chow mein home for supper. Joyce, being used to my bringing all sorts of people to the rectory for meals, relayed the message to Kay and said, “Daddy is bringing the Charmaine’s home for supper.” I arrived at the rectory only to find a smell of roast beef in the air, the finest glassware on the table along with the good silverware, the kids dressed to kill. “What goes on here?” I cried, standing with two paper buckets of chow mein in my hand.
I could not stand maternity clothes; after nine months they were horrible to me. When Kay got to Orange Memorial Hospital to have Joyce, I opened the window and threw out every stitch Kay had worn. When it came time for her release I had to go to Lord & Taylor and bring her everything from the skin out. In 1939 men prowling around the women’s underwear department was not exactly kosher. From that day to this I have bought every bit of Kay’s clothing; I buy two of each so she can have a choice but she has never returned the second garment.
At Every Member Canvass time I told my parishioners that I did not expect them to tithe but I did expect that they would give me 20% of their liquor bill!
Four country clubs were kind enough to grant me honorary memberships. For instance, a kind parishioner picked up my check every time I ate at a certain club. This made me choose chicken many times when I would have preferred steak!
Few were the times when I played golf at Baltusrol. Once when I was playing there Johnnie Farrell called to me and said “Reverend, you are shooting from the women’s tee.” I replied, “Please be quiet; it is my second shot.”
At one of my first services as rector of Christ Church a deaf old man sat in the front pew right under the pulpit. He had an old-fashioned ear trumpet which he pointed at me as I preached. He wiggled and waggled it and when I was through he slammed it on the pew and said, in a deaf person’s unusually loud voice, “T’warnt worth it!”
When I first came to Christ Church I was told to read the first lesson at the service. I neglected to locate the lesson before the service. I stood at the lectern and desperately looked for the appointed lesson. I could not remember the order of the Bible’s books. Near panic, I picked a lesson at random, in terror. I read it and it was nothing but a worthless list of somebody’s ancestors. At length it ended and I had enough sense to say: “Here endeth the WRONG lesson.”
While l was studying for the sacred ministry at the Virginia Theological Seminary, my father had a severe heart attack. He was the founder-owner of a very successful printing plant in New York City. Not long after that my father’s night foreman, Mr. Towles, came to the seminary to see me. “Stop your foolishness and come back with me and do what your father had dreamed you would do and join the firm.” I accompanied him to our home in Montclair and told my father that I was willing to go into the printing business for five years. “Then what?” asked my father. I replied “Then I am going back to seminary.” The next morning I heard voices in my father’s room; his lawyers were with him. He called me into his room and said, “I have sold the business. You may go back to seminary.”
At the end of seminary, Bishop Washburn called me for a conference. He said that he had a job for me. “You are going to Short Hills.” I did not want to go to Short Hills and I said so. “You are going to Short Hills for two reasons, one is because I said so and the other reason I need not give you. BUT when you get to Short Hills do not try to get all those people into Heaven, because when some of them get there, they’re not even going to like God – why should they like you?”
I was president of my fraternity at Lafayette College and I returned after one weekend to discover my fraternity house draped in black and purple, in deepest mourning. I asked who was dead. I was told that their president had decided to enter the ministry!
One day I was asked to conduct a funeral for the wife of an older parishioner. The interment was to be at Woodlawn Cemetery in New York. I rode with the bereaved husband and on the way back from Woodlawn, this man turned to me and said “While we’re up this way, do you suppose we could see the NY Yankees play ball?” I went with him, fervently hoping that this was good therapy!
One Sunday morning, an alert young Sunday School member spied a large skunk in a basement window well beneath the church. Miraculously 1500 students came and went without disturbing the skunk. However Handel’s “Oratorio” was scheduled for five o’clock, when one enterprising student decided to investigate. Just as the choir was singing “…the flower that fadeth, the grass that decayeth…” he made his move and missed the skunk. The skunk scurried into the organ air intake port and did his thing. With each note played on the organ by Val Havsky, the chancel was liberally sprayed. It became ludicrous. The horrified looks on the choristers faces made concentration on the music impossible. My ridiculous temptation as I sat amidst this in the Chancel was to yell, “Throw yourselves flat on your faces on the floor, it’s the only way out!” Herbert Thorpe, sidesman founder, was refused admission to his home when he arrived there after the service. His wife ordered him to change his clothes in the garage. The story made “The New Yorker.”
Two maiden sisters who attended church regularly were observed arguing as they left the church. One was saying “I tell you he DOES.” The other would reply, “I know he doesn’t.” Finally I asked them what they were arguing about. One replied, “My sister says that you dye your hair, Mr. Cooper. I say you do not.” “You are both wrong, ladies, I do not dye my hair but I DO wear a toupee!”
One day I was driving in Short Hills and saw a little tot sitting by the side of the road crying. “What’s the matter, little girl” I asked. She said, “I’m lost” “Well, get in the car, I’m the minister and we’ll take you to Christ Church where you can phone someone to come and get you.” “You don’t need to do that, Mr. Cooper. Just take me to the church and I can find my way home from there.”
On Thanksgiving, John B. Rhodes, senior warden, sent a magnum of champagne to the rectory. The children were given small glasses, but Jimmy didn’t drink his. I asked what the matter was. Jimmy answered, “I don’t like this champagne – it tastes like my foot’s asleep.”
Having over 200 children in my year-after-year Confirmation classes, I decided to give a test after the courses were concluded to qualify the children for Confirmation. Among the questions asked was: “Write the 10 Commandments.” While correcting the papers I sensed something wrong in one of the answers. I turned back to it and read “7th Commandment: Thou shalt not ADMIT adultery.” I sent it to Bishop Washburn and he answered, “Herbie, THAT Commandment we can enforce!”
I used to say “I do not wear my round collar when I go to New York because women in the subway stand up to give me a seat.”
Who says the Roman Catholics have a corner on the Irish? I married a Kitty Kennedy and John Dugan is warden of the parish!
A little fellow named Ben Peterson was in one of my Confirmation classes. I told the class that whenever a church member had a death in the family the first thing he did was call the minister. Not long after that my phone rang; it was Ben. He told me tearfully that his little dog, Spot, had died. As a result I went to his home and accorded Spot a graveside service and won a friend for life.
I had a Presbyterian friend who defined an Episcopalian as one who thinks it wrong to sin – during Lent! He also defines an Episcopalian as a Roman Catholic who votes Republican.
A key Roman Catholic was president of the Holy Name Society, Martin Flynn. He owned a saloon on Main Street in MilIburn. Each Thanksgiving Day he and his wife Bernice signed up for the Thanksgiving Day football breakfast for the members of the Millburn football squad. They were required to be at Christ Church at 6 a.m. A sign was found in his window saying: – “Closed – gone to church”
We had two husky airedales in the rectory, one was named “Briar” the other was “Bramble.” One day the kids adopted a kitten and named her Rosie”- a Rose between two thorns!
Christ Church in Short Hills is the only parish in the country, to my knowledge, that has its own hymn book – the Christ Church Hymnal. This was largely due to the devotion of William O. Jelleme, vestryman, Lindsay Smith and Val Havsky, organists. One of the requirements for the 4th Degree was that a chorister set a given set of words to music. We had over 200 choristers in our combined choirs. As each chorister presented his original musical composition at the Choir Festival, the combined choirs sang it as he knelt at the altar. Truly it was a thrilling experience for all. There were over 150 original compositions presented in this way and the Christ Church Hymnals are occasionally put in the pews so that the entire congregation can join in the singing. – “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.”
The Monday Night Supper Club was a huge success. Great speakers and renowned entertainers made up the programs after a dinner was served for one dollar! Meals included fruit juice, meat entree (corned beef, roast beef, chicken, meat loaf, dessert, etc.), vegetable, a salad, rolls, coffee, tea or milk. One patron complained because he couldn’t have hot chocolate! Kay and her mother prepared all these meals and members of the parish served them. Selected teams met at the rectory once a month to plan and prepare for these wonderful occasions that were a boon to the healthy fellowship of our parish.
“Open House” at the rectory always followed the 8 a.m. communion service on Sunday morning for the crucifers who served. Joe Ward quite often consumed one half dozen eggs at those sittings but he was a growing boy!
Boiling and Betty Robertson were owners, president and vice president of the Candlecraft Candle Corp. a well-known manufacturer in Newark. They arranged for Christ Church crucifers to come to their plant on Saturday mornings to fashion all the candles used on Christ Church’s altars. These candles had special meaning for these wonderful boys when they lighted them each Sunday morning. Boiling and Betty EACH had Sunday School classes and what an inspiration they were to us all!
Each Sunday morning for a long period of time a one hundred dollar bill was discovered in the collection plate. After several weeks the ushers began a search to find this generous donor. Finally, the search was narrowed down to one small section of the church and after much sleuthing the ushers pinned down the giver. He turned out to be Raleigh Dougherty, the author and publisher of “The 10 Commandments” and who attended Christ Church regularly.
The “sidesmen” was a special dream of mine. Long before the diocese organized the laymen, we had a cohesive unit of men who assisted the rector. This was truly a step forward made bravely by Christ Church in Short Hills in the face of solid opposition–at the diocesan level.
We had a “recluse” who owned the property below the Benedict House–a Mr. Griffin. I took him to his home after having interred his wife, only to discover that it had been vandalized while he was at the funeral. He went inside and for three long years never showed his face outside. He got down to using milk cartons to stop the weather through broken windows. The front porch fell off and all in all it was a mess. I tried again and again to help him but all I saw was a shadowy form inside the glass front door, his body clad in a dirty old suit fastened together with safety pins. His beard was long and his hair unkempt…shades of the Collier brothers in N.Y. No one could reach him. At last one day I approached him because I thought I had a solution. We had just inherited the Cashion house and it was empty. I finally gained admittance and promised him that we would give him the Cashion house, fully furnished and provided with a housekeeper if he would give us his big house for the use of the Church; this was the first ray of light for him. After a while he accepted, but he did not want our house. He now planned to go to his nieces, whom he had not laid eyes on for three years, and live there. As a result, we got the house (it has since been sold) and Rev. David St. George, Richard Anderson and their families lived in it for a long time after it was renovated and restored. The former recluse moved to Saugerties, New York where he eventually became president of the Retired Men’s League – a life restored!
We got the idea while enlarging the Church that the pews were a source of revenue, so a plaque was put up at the rear of the church, naming those who were to be remembered as pew memorials. We decided to “sell” these for $250. After three years only 12 of these had been taken! Upon an architect’s advice we raised this price to $1,000 and, lo and behold, over one hundred pews had been subscribed to within the year! People do not look for “bargains” when they give memorials.
Wilson Newman and his family gave the house amidst the parking lots next to the church (It is now owned by its purchaser, Miss Eleanor Rhodes). Instead of the house, Mr. Newman chose to give the chapel and its windows and entrance to the church as memorials. This was a well-timed and a valuable gift, as our Sunday School, numbering nearly 2000 students, taxed our facilities. It became a beautiful worship and learning center, a gift that can never be forgotten.
Mrs. Harry Cashion, a good Roman Catholic, left her fully furnished home on Hobart Ave. (behind Dr. Robert E. Lee and across the street from the Hobart Avenue school) to the rector, who later sold it to the church for one dollar. This lovely home stood us in great stead. The rector and his family lived there during the whole year when the rectory burned. Rt. Rev. Theodor Ludlow, assistant, lived there during his ministry among us and Rev. Carolus Webb and his wife lived there for several years.
The purchase of the Short Hills Country Day School was assisted by a great man. Robert Besch called me to have lunch with him at Baltusrol. During the lunch, Bob told me that he knew how much I needed and wanted the school and he offered to pay the last $50,000 if we bought the school. “They’ll not believe me when I tell the vestry this,” I said, “I need it in writing,” whereupon he took the menu–a huge portfolio–and wrote on it: “I promise to pay Christ Church $50,000 as the final payment on the Short Hills Country Day School (signed Robert Besch).” We bought the school and I spent frantic minutes trying to locate the Baltusrol luncheon menu but managed to find it and Bob Besch paid his $50,000 by a gift from his estate.
The Chancel has four arches in it and on each arch there is a shield. The first arch represents our Blessed Lord and has on its soffit all of the instruments employed in His death. The second arch represents the Episcopal Church with the carving of the church flag at its apex. The third arch represents the Diocese of Newark of which we are a part. The fourth arch has the church’s seal at its apex and its soffit bears carvings of all of the flowers mentioned in the Bible, also reminding us that Christ Church is in the Garden State. On each of the 12 pillars in the church proper there are emblems, one for each of Our Lord’s disciples, bearing some witness of their life and ministry. .
Many windows have been given as memorials. Some are English in origin and some were made in this country. Each tells a story and each reminds us of a dear one. Some are American-made (these are the ones that are more like pictures) and these have been referred to as “Early Pullman.” Nevertheless they are all loved.
The church was doubled in width by “raising the roof”, holding it there and building underneath it. Many architects said this couldn’t be done but we persisted and a lovely church is the result. The nice part of it is that it is ALL PAID FOR! At one time we put a $75,000 mortgage on the church. We began operations in June and at Christmas time we asked for a thanksgiving (year-end) offering. The $75,000 was fully paid off in six months and the mortgage was burned. Later, when our large alteration was contemplated we applied to the bank in Newark for a mortgage. The reply was, “Mortgage rejected.” I later learned that they would give us $275,000, not as a mortgage but as a “character-loan” on the rector. (?) We had paid off our former mortgage too quickly and they didn’t make any money on it!
We needed parking lots so badly and we entered into an agreement with the Hartshorn family to buy the three lots adjacent to the church. The vestry demurred and even spent $10000 on something else so that I couldn’t buy the lots. Just then an angel by the name of Cox (he lived on Western Drive, at the head of Forest Drive) gave me a gift of $10000 saying “There you are, Herbie. Go and buy your parking lots,” and so we did for the benefit of all concerned.
The rectory on East Lane was a memorial gift. Dean Morris Brisco was unhappy that we were living in the old rectory and when he died he willed half of his modern brick home to the church as a memorial to his wife. After he died the Vestry acted on the gift and they turned it down because I would not allow the church to take a mortgage on the house. As we dispersed from that meeting, Ted Jamison drew me aside and said “Herbie, I will give a gift as a memorial to my first wife.” We reassembled and the church accepted the house because Ted had given $25000 as a memorial. Subsequently, Alfred Blemings gave $5000 as a memorial gift for deceased members of the Canoe Brook Country Club. This money was gathered because Alf insisted that the poker games at the club contribute a “kitty” for Christ Church so that it could have a new rectory. A plaque was put up in the den naming the house as a memorial to Dean Brisco, Ted Jamison’s first wife and the deceased members of Canoe Brook. Subsequently the plaque disappeared and was never replaced.
The Benedict House (diagonally opposite the Church) was purchased from Purdy Benedict for $17,500! One vestryman was so vociferous in his objections that Purdy heard about it. The objection was to the effect that Purdy was casting his “old junk” off on the church. The Vestry decided to buy it for $17,500 but Purdy, now miffed, refused to sell it and wanted $22,500. At length the house was bought for $17,500—and what a boon it was to us. Our sexton was housed there, as was an assistant and his family, our organist Val Havsky lived there, and 150 Sunday School nursery students met there. The baby-care-sitter-service was established there, the Girl’s Church Service League met there. There was a canteen for young people (150 young people every Friday night) there. “New Eyes for the Needy” had its headquarters in that building and the Church Canvass Committee had their offices there. The annual church school teachers’ cook-out was held there on its huge porch. The rector had plans for it to be converted into a home and club for the widowers of the parish. Students from Drew University and Seminary were to be waiters for meals. What a blessing that house was when the parish was a busy, busy place.
Not long after I retired, a local cemetery plot salesman came to the house. He railed on and on, telling me about the advantages of purchasing a plot in Florida. I told him that I had already made arrangements in New Jersey. He jumped at that and said “Do you know that it would cost you more to ship your body to New Jersey these days then it would cost you for a cemetery plot with us?” Not the way I’m going,” I replied,” I can be sent parcel post to New Jersey for one dollar and forty-one cents in a seven by seven by seven inch container!” He wagged his head and left the house.
The church’s beautiful reredos and the rugs in the chancel and sanctuary were the gifts of Carl and Helen Egner as were two beautiful stained glass windows. (They also left the church a bequest of $300,000 which is in a permanent Endowment Fund.) The beautifully carved reredos had one cross just above the altar and a huge cross at the very top. These gifts changed for the better the whole appearance of our altar. However, I had some misgivings about the two crosses above the altar. It occurred to me that Christ Church could be termed as the Church of the “Double-Cross.” The upper cross was removed and it was placed beautifully on the side wall of the East Lane buildings where it proclaimed (along with the church flag on a flagpole–a memorial to Laird Schober–that these too were the church’s buildings.
A beautiful lectern which holds the Holy Bible was given, among many other gifts, by John W. White, Jr. as memorials to his parents. This lovely memorial is in the form of an eagle with widespread wings as a reminder that the gospel is winged by the world’s mightiest bird from East to West and from North to South. The “blind window” in the narthex was given by the Whites as a memorial to Claire White’s mother. It was beautifully lighted artificially by the genius of Ralph Morison, a devoted warden and a faithful parishioner. The Celtic cross that rises above the church and the handsome coping were the gifts of John White. Without his loyal work Christ Church would not be what it is today.
I’ll never forget the first meeting I had with Admiral “Chubb” Austin, U.S.N. He had invited me to his Bayonne office and I went. I arrived at his door and with some trepidation I knocked. There was no answer, so I went in. I saw an empty desk, a chair with a flag behind it emblazoned with the appropriate number of stars but nowhere was the Admiral in evidence. I looked around and then up. Thirty feet above me clinging to a rope from the rafters hung Admiral “Chubb” Austin. “Hello Herbie,” he cried, “I’ll be right down” and he slid gracefully down the rope to the “deck” to greet me. That is how I met the man who was to be one of my first sidesmen and one of my dearest friends.
One day (could have been in 1969) the Payne-Speers Studio in Paterson, with whom we had done a lot of business called and said: “A Roman Catholic Church in Paterson is being torn down and we have a ‘King of Kings’ window rescued.” I went over to see it and fell in love with it. I took John White there and showed it to him. “I’ll buy it for you and put it into your Church,” he volunteered and before I knew it we owned it. He ordered the hands in the window to be changed at my request (the King of Kings had a rosary in his hands) and he paid for the change. He then commissioned our contractor, Mr. Evans, to install the window at the entrance to the Memorial Chapel as a part of it. How proud I was on that day when the chapel and the window were dedicated to the memory of the contributions I had made to Christ Church during my thirty-six ministry among you.