Community
United Methodist Church
"
HISTORY OF COMMUNITY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH
HISTORY OF THE PEOPLE'S
CHURCH
as told by a "HOUSE" to
Mrs. H.E. Palmer
My Dear Co-Workers;
You no doubt will be surprised to receive a letter from
a
"house" - but I heard of this banquet and that one of the toasts would
be "The History of The Springfield Street Community House" and I just
naturally concluded that I knew more about what has transpired on this
corner than anyone else, so have presumed to come (by proxy) although
uninvited.
To begin my story - my very earliest history when I grew
in a
forest - swayed by the summer and winter winds, kissed by the hurrying
snowflakes, accompanying the song of the river with the rustling of my
leaves, and looking ever toward the blue dome of Heaven above, - all
that does not belong in this tale. I only mention it to show you that I
had the right start. My "downfall," in more senses than one, came about
when I was changed into lumber and erected on this comer as a house.
And such a house! I blush and try to hang my head whenever I think of
those first years here - years of sin and degradation, but I was not
really to blame for I know you will all agree with me that men will
have
lots to answer for in the disgrace they bring upon perfectly good
houses.
So I pass quickly over that period of my life when I was
a
saloon to the dawning of a brighter day. My owners abandoned me because
of the high steps out in front. - You may draw your own inference about
that. - Along somewhere in 1911 I began to witness different sorts of
things. Instead of quarrels and fights, drunkenness and vulgar songs,
my walls echoed back songs of praise - words of friendship - scenes of
happiness and love. This was only occasionally, however, but in the
year
of 1912 I became a thoroughly converted house and was very proud of the
struggling little organization I sheltered that was trying so hard to
beat back the waves of wickedness all about us.
At first it was only a Sunday School, then in the year
of 1915
a boy's gymnasium class was added. The quarters were pretty small here,
and they battered me up a good bit, but I only creaked with joy
enjoying
the fun with them.
We used to have concerts and lectures and various social
occasions,
but there came a day when something wonderful happened! It must have
been
about 1918. My little organization bought me from my old owners and I
became "The Springfield Street Community House." I was so happy that I
flapped my shutters and tried to crow for joy? The name meant so much
to
me after my sad experience of a few years before. I was now. a, house
by
the side of the road and was a friend to man. I sang - with apologies
to
the poet, Sam Voss; "Let me be a house by the side of the road." Here
is
how I sang it;
"Let me be a house by the side of the road,
"Where the races of men go by -
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban:
Let me just be a house by the side of the road,
That is a friend to man.
"I see from my place by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men -who press on with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife:
But I turn not way from their smiles or their tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan;
I now am a house by the side of the road
That is a friend to man."