CHAPTER IX

 

 

Two days later Herbert found himself installed in an elegantly furnished office, with a private secretary and an accountant. On the door of that office shining gold-leaf informed the world that here was to be found

 

ZION LAND DEPARTMENT

HERBERT RENBRUSH

MANAGER

 

"I knew at once," Dr. Dowie had said, "the first time I saw you, that you were a young man of char­acter and ability. And I coveted you for Zion. I be­lieved, when you had caught the Zion spirit, you would fit into the great plans which God has for us.

"I had been praying very earnestly to God to send me the man I needed in carrying out His great plans in connection with real estate. In humble gratitude I acknowledge that He does gloriously answer my pray­ers. I know now that God has a great and glorious work for you to do. And God will reward you. Zion doesn't count pennies. The time is coming, if you keep close to Him and are loyal to me, when you will hold a high place in the councils of Zion and in her business enterprises, and you will have the wealth to maintain yourself properly in that position."

The General Overseer sat forward in his chair, leaned close to Herbert, and lowered his voice.

 

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"What I am about to tell you now is in strictest confidence. I know I can trust you.

"Many years ago, God vouchsafed to me a vision of a city-a glorious, clean, shining city for His peo­ple-a city where no unclean thing could enter.

"I saw a happy, healthy, prosperous people, with a royal generation of children growing up in an at­mosphere of Christian cleanliness. And out from this city I saw streaming, not only honest products of factories and shops where the workers were prosper­ous because they shared in the profits from the work of their hands, but trained and educated youths and maidens, carrying the Full Gospel of Salvation, Heal­ing, and Holy Living to all the ends of the earth."

Springing to his feet and striding about the room, he went on:

"Will not such a city be a glorious example? Will it not be a beautiful City of Refuge to God's people -a refuge from the rising tide of sin and shame and Godlessness in the world?

"Our plans are developing. Great things are just ahead. Herbert, Zion City is in sight!"

The great man's eyes were glowing, his face flushed.

"You may not know it, but our dear Mr. Halsey is a banker in Chicago, holding a high position in the Illinois National Bank. He loves Zion. Through my prayers he was, a few years ago, raised up and healed when he lay dying of consumption. He is about to re­sign his position-after twenty-one years' service in this great bank-and help me organize Zion City Bank.

"I shall organize great industries, and give Zion

 

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people, including those who work in them, a share in their profits.

"For the present, you will be manager of what we shall call Zion Land Department, with an office in Zion Printing and Publishing House. I realize, of course, that you are young and that your experience is not extensive. But you will work with me and together we will make a go of it."

"I'll do my best," promised Herbert.

"In your new position, you will be expected chiefly to 'spy out the land.' In other words, I want you to help me find just the right place to build Zion City.

"You will also complete the list of owners of real estate in Chicago which you have begun. Do you also add to it a similar list of properties owned by Zion people everywhere.

"Let me ask you-have you had experience in writ­ing form letters and advertisements?"

"A little," said Herbert.

"There will be many letters and advertisements to be written. You had better brush up your abilities.

"By the way, what am I paying you now?"

"Fifteen dollars a week."

"Oh, that is too little~ Murray!"

Murray entered.

"Make a note that Mr. Renbrush is to receive twenty dollars a week salary, beginning at once."

"Very well, General Overseer."

"Well, Herbert, off you go. Keep closely in touch with me. Murray, remember Mr. Renbrush has right of way to me, by telephone or in person."

 

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"Just the man I want to see, right here, nice and handy for meself," said Captain Erdman, hooking an arm through one of Herbert's. He had come up on the elevator and found his friend waiting to go down from the General Overseer's office. "Come to my office. I want to show you something."

"Well," reluctantly, "for just a minute, Chris. I'm in a sweat to go."

"You'll get all over your rush when you see what I've got," laughed Chris.

They walked along the corridor toward the cap­tain's office. The door was open, as always, and Her­bert saw a girl sitting near the desk, her back toward them. He began to suspect that Chris was matchmak­ing. How he hated being thrown at girls-or having them thrown at him!

Fumbling desperately in the pigeonholes of his mind for an excuse to run away, he began to hang back. Then the girl turned and he saw her face.

“Gosh!" he exclaimed, inside, "she's lovely! What rotten luck! Why'n heck does something always have to spoil 'em. I'll bet I could like that girl 'f Chris'd only let us alone!"

But the captain, all smiles and tell-tale eye­-messages, was burbling.

"Miss Brelin, let me make you acquainted with Mr. Renbrush. This little girl, Herbert, is a wonderful writer-she's had poetry and stories in some o' the best magazines. Maybe you've read some of 'em. And Herbert, here, Edith, is the manager of our new Zion Land Department. But look out f'r 'm-he wants to find a wife!"

 

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The captain laughed delightedly and poked a jovial elbow into Herbert's ribs.

"Oh, the sublime, pimple-headed ass," groaned the young man behind his mask of politeness.

Aloud he said, "How do you do, Miss Brelin? I suppose you get the wily psychology of all this ad­vertising? "

“I'm not sure I do," she said, gravely, her eyes resting on his with calm inquiry.

“If you'll consult your own feelings about it, you'll probably find out."

“Oh," she laughed, "you feel that way about it too, do you? Well, let's forget he ever said it."

"Start from scratch, eh? I vote aye, unanimously. That means I must ask if you live in Chicago, doesn't it?"

"Pretty good start," she laughed. "Yes, I live with Mother in Woodlawn. You must come out and see us."

“Thank you. Accept your invitation-and that means I've got to run away now and do a land office business so I'll have the time. G'by Chris. Good after­noon, Miss Brelin. We're off-from scratch." And away he went.

 

 

CHAPTER X

 

“It’s all very well for you, Jack, to defend Fred Jeffords. You eat at the midnight table, with Pete as cook. But I tell you the poor things who have to eat Jeffords' tasteless messes and nothing else are starved! You would be too--and as ugly as a bear. And those in the help's dining-room! Really, they make me think of the runty kids in some of Dickens's novels."

John Harrow smiled.

"Mike, for instance," he said. "His emaciation is pitiful."

"Mike works in the pantry and manages to get enough to eat. That's why he's so fat. But Albert Heston told me he had lost twenty pounds in the four months since he came here."

At the midnight table in Zion Home were John and Nancy Harrow, who wrote and read copy every; night until midnight; Herbert, who was now busy in his own office until all hours; and other night work­ers, including Captain Erdman. On this occasion the captain came in just as Nancy was trying to recall some other victim of undernourishment.

"Oh, Captain Erdman," she exclaimed, "don't you think the help's dining-room is an outrage?"

"Nan," pleaded John.

"Well, why not say it if I think it? Besides, I don't 

 

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believe Doctor Dowie knows how bad it is. Who's to tell him? Certainly Fred Jeffords won't. Would you tell him, Captain Erdman, that even in the big din­ing-room people don't get enough to eat, and what little they get is terribly monotonous? Everything-­soup, meat, vegetables, and dessert-tastes alike. Rather, it's all tasteless alike. And in the help's dining-­room, I hear, some of the food is actually spoiled."

"So that's come up again, has it?" asked the cap­tain, with unwonted seriousness. "How much fuss are they making about it?"

"How much fuss is who making about it?" "Why, anybody-guests, elders, help. Or is this just your own private fuss?"

"Why, everybody's kicking-on the quiet. Poor things, they seem to be afraid to whisper. Jack says it's just wicked human nature-that boarders always kick about the grub, nq matter how good it is. But I eat in the main dining-room, and I know it's awful, and I don't blame 'em for kicking. I would too, only this midnight table and Pete's cooking save my life."

"Well," said the captain, "this is an old story. We've been through it a dozen times, I guess. But take a tip from me and don't get mixed up in it. We've been bothered with it ever since Fred Jeffords came. He buys for the General Overseer's private table too, you know, and is popular in that dining-room. Noth­ing you can do about it but stir up a rumpus. Leave it lay."

"Captain is right, Nan," said John. "Many people have done a lot of good by not minding other peo­ple's business."

 

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“All right, you old stick-in-the-muds. I'll shut up. But I tell you this thing can't be kept quiet. Some day it'll blow the lid off, and there'll be a nasty mess none of us will like-not even Doctor Dowie and his pet, Fred Jeffords."

"Nan!" pleaded John Harrow again. But she laughed at him.

"Don't be scared, darling. Your discreet wife won't be mixed up in it."

"Surely," said Herbert, speaking at last, "if the General Overseer knew there was dissatisfaction, he'd investigate and put things right."

"The General Overseer," said Captain Erdman, "trusts them he gives authority to and backs 'em up, and you wouldn't want him to do different in your department. "

"Yes, but he fires 'em when they don't make good."

“Not on complaint of their employees, Herbert."

"But you're not under Fred Jeffords-nor I."

"Just the same, I tell you what I told Nan. Leave it lay."

Myra spoke to Herbert about Jeffords.

"What's going to be the outcome?" she asked. "My goodness, you know's well's I do that the food at the Home isn't worth half what they charge for it. I know what it costs to set a table. Not only that, the cooking's bad. Elder and Evangelist Draco called yes­terday afternoon. Poor things, they're hungry all the while. And their boy Walter, the one that runs the freight elevator, has lost fifteen pounds. It isn't right; I don't care who does it. My goodness, I wish we were out of it."

 

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"Out of what?" asked Herbert, shocked.

"Out of Doctor Dowie's organization-what he calls a church."

"Why, Myra, you can't mean it?"

"Yes I do too mean it. I've been watching things here a long time and I've been asking the Lord for light and leading. Doctor Dowie seemed like a good man when we first knew him, but I'm afraid too much money and too much flattery have turned him from the Lord. He tells lies-yes, he does. You know well enough the Tabernacle never has held forty-five hundred-and so does he. Saying they sell things in the refectory at cost! They're three times that much."

"But, Myra-" Herbert began.

"No," she interrupted, "I've wanted to say all this a long time. I'm going to say it, now I'm started.

"He promised Ezra enough money to live on-said ~Zion doesn't count pennies.' The last time Ezra told him he couldn't live on his allowance, Doctor Dowie said, 'Why don't you get your brother to help you? He gets good pay and has no family of his own.' My goodness, what right has he got to ask you to help us when he promised to pay Ezra enough? The doctor isn't right, Herbert. He's lost his hold on the Lord. Else why should he get so angry over nothing and call people such wicked names, and try to make out that everybody that leaves Zion is a wicked sinner and a hypocrite? He even calls perfectly innocent people adulterers. Why does he do that? My goodness, I be­lieve he gets it out of his own evil mind."

"Myra!" gasped Herbert.

"Yes ‘Myra,''' she mimicked. “But I notice you

 

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haven't got the nerve to deny it--or anything else I've said."

"Have you talked like this to Ezra?" asked Herbert, pale and in distress.

"Course I have." "What does he say?"

"Oh, he owns up to it all. But you know Ezra. He just naturally thinks everybody's as innocent and honest as he is himself, and so he tries to make excuses for Doctor Dowie. He prays a good deal about it and is blue and discouraged most of the time. I want him to resign and get out before things get worse, but he says he wants to wait until he's sure the Lord's lead­ing him. My goodness, I'd think he'd see that quick enough! My conscience won't let me stay much longer. If he doesn't resign pretty soon, I'm going to get out anyhow."

"I can't think what's come over you, Myra," said Herbert gloomily. "You and Ezra were so enthusi­astic about Doctor Dowie and Zion. Why, it's your influence more'n anything else that brought me here. Remember those long evenings, back there in Hori­con, when you both argued and plead with me to come into Zion? I tell you I'm mighty grateful to you. It's given me a better chance to do greater work than I ever dreamed possible."

"Well, Herbie," said Myra, quietly, "I see it does no good to talk to you now. But, dear, dear brother, promise me you'll keep close to God, you'll never compromise your conscience, you'll never let anyone talk you into saying or doing anything wrong by

                          

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arguing it has to be done for the Kingdom of God. Promise me!"

"Of course I promise you, Myra, but I don't see the connection."

"All right, Herbie, I've got your promise, that's enough. Only, keep your eyes open."

 

Claude Emerson told Herbert that a petition to the General Overseer had been signed. "A lot of 'em wouldn't sign, of course," he said. "They're afraid. Some of the loudest kickers too. Not one of the girls had the nerve to put her name to jt. Can't say I blame 'em much. If we do get fired-as some folks think we will-it would be a lot harder for the girls than for us boys. I went and had a talk with Doctor Por­ter, manager of the Home. He said to go ahead and get up the petition and he'd back us up. Said he was tired of the trouble Jeffords made and now Jeffords'd have to go or he would."

When Herbert came down for breakfast next morning (he was now living at the Home, spending only occasional 'week-ends with Ezra and Myra) he felt as if he had entered a house of death. No one was smiling or laughing. John Harrow looked as if the abomination of desolation had overtaken him. Cap­tain Erdman was silent and glum-this in itself a tragedy. But as Herbert took his seat, Nancy looked up, smiled her good morning, winked at him, then laughed, helplessly, as if she said, in to-day's parlance, "Poor things! Can you beat it?"

Herbert needed no one to tell him what had

 

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happened, but John looked at him out of hollow eyes and said, as one reports a cataclysm, "The boys have been fired, Herb--out of their jobs and out of Zion."

"Did the General Overseer see the boys personally?" he asked John.

"No. He gave orders to Doctor Porter that they were to be out of here by seven o'clock this morn­ing."

Then there was the tinkle of a bell and in a mo­ment or two Dr. Porter was speaking. He was a big, well-fed blond, always suave and smiling, even when he tried to be severe. He was manager of Zion Home. Some ribald and irreverent fellow once said that "Doc Porter did Doc Dowie's dirty work."

"The General Overseer desires me to say to you," came the smooth, unctuous voice, "that there will be a special meeting in the healing-room at half past seven this evening, which you are all required to at­tend. In the meantime, it is his command that you shall, none of you, discuss the matter of certain fool­ish young men who have had the effrontery to try to tell the General Overseer of the Christian Catholic Church in Zion how to administer the affairs of Zion Home. Please take pains to convey this information to any guests or employees who may not be present this morning."

It was a subdued and anxious gathering that awaited the great leader in the prayer room that evening. Many were fearfully recalling their recent remarks about food, about Fred Jeffords, and about the eleven victims of Dr. Dowie's displeasure. It had been whis­pered around, during the day, that Dr. Porter had

                           

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said that either food would be good or he would go. People were furtively watching the big fellow to see if he was plumed for a fight, but he was as smiling and unruffled as ever.

The General Overseer came in looking like a bearded thunder-cloud. There was none of the pious voluptuousness with which he usually opened a meeting.

"I have called you together to-night," he said, harshly, "in order to speak plainly to you about a wilful, malicious, and nasty piece of insolence and effrontery that has come to me from the kitchens and backstairs of Zion Home. And before I go any fur­ther, I want to say that if there is anyone here who sympathizes with these foolish and wicked boys, or upholds what they have done, that person must leave this room and Zion at once. Is that clear to all of you? I don't care who you are, or what position you hold, or how long you have cursed Zion with your hypocritical presence--if you are in sympathy with these dirty boys, out you go, bag and baggage."

The speaker paused, glaring from one meek disciple to another around the room.

The people sat stunned.

Even Dr. Porter, for once, was serious.

Elders and evangelists looked as if a whiplash had cut across their meek faces.

John Harrow was ghastly pale. Nancy, regarding him, was serious.

"Now," said the General Overseer, somewhat mol­lified, "just what is this vile thing?" He slapped a bit of paper with his pudgy hand. It was, of course, the

 

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offending petition. "A lot of greedy servants quarrel­ing with their food! They've been too well fed, that's the trouble, better than they ever were in their own homes. Trying to tell me how to conduct Zion Home! The tail shall not wag the dog!"

Elder and Evangelist Draco, whose son Walter was among the eleven victims, looked more distressed than ever, if anyone could. "Poor things," thought Her­bert. "They've cut themselves off from their old church and can't go back to it. What'd they do if they left Zion? The elder couldn't make a living at anything but preaching."

“They make a god of their belly,''' shouted the speaker. And then suddenly, terribly:

“And so do some of you! I know what you have been saying. I know how you've been sneaking out to Godless restaurants buying the Devil's food­-places where they cook and serve the filthy flesh of the unspeakable hog and fill their other food with his stinking lard!

"Shame! Shame!" he screamed, stamping his feet and shaking his fists. "Shame! that you should spend Zion's money with the Devil's people, just to stuff your dirty guts. You ought, instead, to rejoice to do God's work in Zion with only a dry crust and a cup of water. What matters it what you eat? Is not the spirit more than flesh and God's Word more than drink?"

Herbert thought of this holy man's breakfast the morning before, when he had been summoned to the Dowie private dining-room to take some instructions. A whole grape-fruit, a soup-plate of oatmeal

 

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porridge swimming in thick cream, three eggs, a huge beefsteak, fried potatoes, several pieces of toast, richly buttered and graced with quantities of the in­evitable orange marmalade, and two big cups of cof­fee, all inhaled and masticated with noisy gusto!

As if to give point to Herbert's reflections, the speaker went on: "I take but little food-only enough to sustain me in my work for you and for God. Of­tentimes I am so alive in spirit and so little conscious of the flesh that I forget to eat. Isn't that so, Erdman? Murray?"

The two witnesses nodded their heads.

"But these poor, starving boys, who could not get enough to eat on Zion's bounty, ask me to 'investi­gate.' All right, the tail ought not to wag the dog, but I'll investigate, and I'll prove them the liars they are -these pampered guests of mine who abuse my hos­pitality to give me a slap in the face from the serv­ants' quarters!

“John Appleton, do you get enough to eat in Zion Home?"

John, who helped the chef and had a finger in every dish prepared, grinned broadly as he replied, "Sure thing, Doctor."

"William Dunnis, you look big and healthy. Do you get enough to eat in Zion Home?"

Now Bill Dunnis was a brave man. He had refused to sign the fatal petition because, as he said, it was none of his business. But he was a farmer's son, of good stock, and had a lot of healthy American independence and uprightness about him.

“Well, General Overseer," he said, rising, “it's

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according to what a body would call enough. I'm hungry a good deal, and I've lost sixteen pound since I come here, last fall."

“How dare you? How dare you?" roared the aston­ished investigator. “What has the weight of your mis­erable carcass to do with your answer to my ques­tion? Do you or do you not get enough to eat here?"

Poor Bill was startled but he stuck to his guns.

“I get enough to keep me alive, yes; but not enough to keep up my stren'th. And the victuals isn't always good either-not fresh. I ate some stew the other night -'twas so stale I had to go and throw it up."

A marked change came over the questioner.

“But, Dunnis," he said gently, "might you not be mistaken? Perhaps you have been ill. It may be that leaving your outdoor work on the farm and taking up a position inside has upset your stomach and caused you to lose weight-and to vomit. Might not that be true?"

“I suppose it might," said Bill, relieved.

"Then why do you come in here, Dunnis, and mis­lead these people by saying you do not get enough to eat and the food is not good? Dunnis, I'm not pleased with you."

Before the abashed Bill could reply, Dr. Dowie went on, "Now you see how false this wicked paper is. And some of you fools were in danger of letting these wicked boys lead you to distrust and grumbling. You wanted the dirty tail to wag the dog too.

“Pray God to forgive you! In future, keep your eyes on God and His glorious work and His promises. Keep busy for God, as I do, and you will have no thought or

 

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time for backstairs gossip and the mouthings of miser­able grumblers. Zion has no place for grumblers, has she?"

"No," came back the response, weakly, but stronger than Herbert expected.

"Say it louder," demanded the now smiling and triumphant leader, "Zion has no place for grumblers, has she?"

This time the faithful, many of them relieved that they had got off so lightly after their weeks of “grumbling," shouted their No with hearty good-will.

There were some, Herbert felt-himself among them-not satisfied with the General Overseer's "in­vestigation" and its resulting vindication of his wis­dom and justice. What would be the effect? he won­dered.

The meeting closed with the General Overseer joy­ously leading his well-licked household in reciting in unison the thirty-fifth· chapter of Isaiah and singing, "We're Marching to Zion."

 

Herbert, sent for next evening, presented himself at the episcopal offices and was almost immediately taken into the Presence by Murray.

“Ah, Herbert, there you are," the great man greeted him. "I had not seen you for several days and I want a report on what you've been doing. I would have sent for you before, but I've had to lay aside very im­portant work for God and Zion in order to clean up a nasty mess made by a few wicked and foolish boys in our kitchen. Disgusting thing, wasn't it?"

"I happen to know some of those boys, General

 

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Overseer, and I don't consider them either wicked or foolish in what they did."

"Do you not consider it wicked to write me lies about their food? To take my time and strength from the great work God has called me to do? To set this whole house by the ears with their chatter-chatter to everybody about their precious 'grievances'? To abuse my hospitality by a slap in the face from the back­stairs?"

"They did not write lies, General Overseer. They respectfully asked you to investigate."

"Well, I did investigate. You heard the testimony."

“General Overseer, that testimony wasn't worth the trouble of listening to it. You had discharged those boys without a hearing, which is unjust. Then you intimidated your witnesses by threatening to discharge anybody who sympathized with them. What could you expect? They're all afraid of you."

Dr. Dowie sat a moment looking at his young ac­cuser with a quizzical smile puckering his eyes, his mustache twitching.

"Are you afraid of me?"

“No."

"Well, now, what land have you seen? I want to hear about it."

“I’ve been down below Hammond and out south of Morgan Park," Herbert reported. "I've looked at several tracts, but none of 'em impress me. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I don't think Zion City should be set down in the midst of a lot of smokestacks and hunkies' shanties."

"I'm glad you think so, Herbert. I have long known

 

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that we must not go south of Chicago for the site of Zion City; but I wanted you to find it out for your­self-and I wanted to test your judgment."

Thus the two discussed the new city for hours, until the young man's enthusiasm burned higher than ever.

During the next few weeks Herbert drove many miles in the country round about Chicago. Early in the evening he was at work in his office. Several nights a week would come a ring at the telephone, and Murray would announce that the conference was about to begin.

In the General Overseer's library, where he had spent so many hours reading "Leaves of Healing," Herbert would find Samuel R. Halsey, the banker; Joseph Wade Endicott, the attorney; and St. John D. Worcester, a civil engineer. They waited in the li­brary rather than in Captain Erdman's office-­clipping-bureau-waiting-room-because these con­ferences were supposed to be secret ..

Halsey was a handsome man, rather below medium height, with clear blue eyes, well-groomed fine brown hair and short beard, well-kept hands, and quiet but elegant clothes. His skin was fair and bespoke keen sensibilities and good health. He had a pleasant voice, cultured manners, and spoke excellent English-al­together a charming gentleman, but a shade too ear­nest and emotional to suit Herbert's fastidious young taste.

Mr. Endicott was not a member of Zion, but seemed to be a whole-hearted convert to the plans for Zion City. Of the aristocracy of Lake Forest, a most

 

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aristocratic suburb, not a man of great wealth, he nevertheless had entre to the inner circle because of his fine old New England pedigree and high standing as a lawyer. His massive head was haloed with crinkly red-gold hair, which set off a rich, florid complexion, strong but well-cut features, alert blue eyes, and in­variable black Prince Albert and high white collar. He was intense, had a reputation for the limitless care with which he prepared his cases, and was, at times, rather tiresomely thorough in exposition. His manners were agreeable and free from ostentation, with more than a trace of New England drought of sentiment.

St. John D. Worcester, a lean, brown little man, with twinkling, humorous eyes, heavy mustache, and a heart-warming, whole-souled laugh, had made a good reputation and a modest competence in his pro­fession. Herbert had become fond of him, partly be­cause he was one of the few members of Zion who never talked religion, partly because they both en­joyed the same kind of jokes, and partly because he could talk science, invention, economics, and politics.

At this time the long night conferences dealt with legal and financial plans. The money for land, houses, hotels, stores, factories, a bank, and other enterprises must come from the people, but control must be wholly in Dr. Dowie's hands. How could it be ac­complished?

On a later evening, Attorney Endicott submitted the first rough sketches of his plan. It included "stock certificates," beautifully engraved, with "dividends" at 6 per cent and "contingent dividends" rising in

 

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some cases to 6 per cent more, but left all ownership and control in John Alexander Dowie. This was hailed as a great triumph. Everybody was happy and praised the attorney. Thus this plan became the basis for all the more important business activities of Zion City. Many smaller ones were financed and owned by the General Overseer himself. Dr. Dowie was to be sole legal owner of every enterprise in the city, and its absolute ruler.

 

For several days, ending on February 22, 1899, Zion celebrated the third anniversary of the organ­ization of the Christian Catholic Church. Members all over the world were invited to attend. Central Zion Tabernacle was crowded morning, afternoon, and evening. The General Overseer spoke for many hours every day, always full of fire, and seemed to thrive upon the exercise.

The General Overseer was dramatically mysterious about his announcement that the Zion City, about which he had so often spoken to them, beginning in 1895, was now "in sight." It would not be prudent for him to tell them all the stupendous prospects of this enterprise. But he had organized Zion City Bank and Zion Land and Investment Association. These would open their offices at once in Zion Printing and Publishing House building. All members and friends of Zion were ordered to visit them, to buy stock in Zion City Bank, which would pay regular "dividends" at the rate of 6 per cent and "contingent dividends," based upon earnings, of 3 per cent. They were told to deposit their money in Zion City Bank, which

 

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would operate both savings and checking accounts. All who could must buy stock in Zion Land and In­vestment Association, which would also pay regular and contingent "dividends." Stock in Zion Land and Investment Association could be exchanged for land in Zion City when lots in that city were placed on sale.

Attorney Endicott, introduced by the General Overseer with many encomiums and a great show of personal affection, explained the legal aspects of these "stocks. "

Samuel R. Halsey, also fulsomely presented as man­ager of Zion City Bank, told about the services the bank would render.

Herbert, put forth with flattering unction-and some good-natured persiflage about his unmarried state-as manager of Zion Land and Investment As­sociation, could not restrain his enthusiasm as he looked forward to the unsullied virtues and glories of the coming city.

Then the General Overseer summed up-and put on the pressure. It was a wonderful investment he offered them.

Think of it! Nine per cent and perfect safety!

Nowhere else in the world could his people find such magnificent returns. Government bonds, with which these securities were comparable in safety of principal and certainly of income, paid only 2 or 3 per cent. Then there was the glorious privilege of living in Zion City. Investment, therefore, was not only a financial El Dorado and a means of securing

 

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an unequaled place of residence, but a God-required duty.

Let every true Zion man and woman convert his property in the Devil's cities and in the country into cash, take his money out of Devil-cursed banks and securities, and put their all in Zion City Bank and Zion Land and Investment Association.

My good Lord, what profits they would make, with his inspired leadership and their own clean, godly minds and bodies consecrated to the work!

No worldly institution could compete with them, for were not the Devil's management and men be­fuddled by their many intemperances and other sins? And was not the whole business and industrial world wasting energy and money in the fight between cap­ital and labor?

He had great joy and confidence, therefore, in commanding them, as God's representative on earth, to make haste to get out of the world's sordid busi­ness and prepare to come to Zion City. The first step was to put all their funds into these investments. No fear about the swift and sure success of the whole plan; Zion had 35,000 members, yet if only 5,000 of them invested $5,000 each-which was a ridiculously conservative estimate-there would be $25,000,000 with which to buy the land and begin the building of Zion City!

“Now, all those who will obey God in this, all who will bring themselves, their families, their property, and their money into Zion as rapidly as possible, rise."

 

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Most of the audience rose.

"You will obey God? Then see these splendid helpers of mine in Zion's business. See Mr. Halsey at Zion City Bank, see Mr. Renbrush at Zion Land and Investment Association. They will help you. Now say with me:

"My God and Father, in Jesus' Name, I come to Thee. Take me as I am-make me what I ought to be. I consecrate to Thee myself, my property, the money with which Thou hast prospered me. I lend it back to Thee that Zion City may be built, a light to all the earth, a City of Refuge for Thy people, that Thy Name may be known and honored of all men, and Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven."

The people repeated this prayer of consecration, phrase by phrase, after their leader.

On the following Sunday afternoon, Herbert, Samuel R. Halsey, St. John D. Worcester, Captain Erdman, Private Secretary Murray, Fred Jeffords, John Harrow, and a number of others were solemnly ordained to the office of deacon. At the same time Nancy Harrow, Edith Brelin, and other women were ordained deaconesses. Mrs. Jeanie Dowie, Elder James Michael Darling, Elder Howard R. Jessup, head of Zion College, and Elder George A. Tobias, in charge of the outlying Chicago tabernacles, were or­dained to the newly created office of overseer.

At this time the General Overseer burgeoned forth in a full bishop's robe, with black silk gown, white lawn sleeves and front panel. Attached to the back was a gorgeously colored silken "doctor's hood."

Overseers, elders, evangelists, deacons, and deaconesses

 

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were garbed in black brilliantine academic caps and gowns. Thereafter they joined the opening pro­cession at all important meetings, marching in, two by two, behind Zion White-Robed Choir.