Planting the outposts, thirty-five years among the children of the plains

Front matter

i'ratarick Sulzer

Copyright N°

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.

Contents

RD vi.

■oRTRAI rS OF ROBER I I . SULZER

I H"v. Hj . His Service, by David James

Foreword

i at last yield to the many requests that have come to me for a number of years from personal friends and leading Sunday-school workers to write from memory a little of my life and experience. When the Lord called me to this work I thought 1 was not qualified for it. but he closed up every other avenue and compelled me to make the work of a pioneer Sunday-school missionary my life work. Whatever 1 have been able to accomplish has been possible only through the hearty ration of the workers whom the Lord has directed me to set at work.

While we all recognize that higher education is one of the most essential things in life, and especially in the ministry, yet the Lord can use men of limited education, but who are consecrated and

nnnon sense, to accomplish some of the

work that he has foreordained to be done in the

• work of saving the children. 1 hope this

little book will stimulate many young men and

women, who feel that they have not sufficient edum and training for God's service, to take up

the work, trust in God and go forward.

ril

PEN PORTRAITS

OF

ROBERT F. SULZER

I. How He Begax His Service

By David James Burrell, D.D., LL.D.,

Pastor of the Marble Collegiate Reformed Church, New York City

In the summer of 1887 I had charge of an Assembly at Clear Lake, Iowa. A good many questions were ably discussed, for the most part by ministers; but there was one layman whose words were particularly to the point. He was a missionary in the employ of the American Sunday School Union, a homespun sort of man, with a German burr on his tongue and a quaint way of putting things that never failed to interest us. I presently sought him out and invited him to my cottage, where we passed many pleasant hours together. This was the beginning of my acquaintance with Robert F. Sulzer; and among the many friends of these thirty-five years none has been more beloved than he.

At the close ol that Assembly I joined him in a hunting trip. On the evening of the first da\ pre came in sight of a schoolhouse with its win-low. lighted Up. He then confided to me that there

a meeting Cor the organisation of a Sunday school, h turned out later that he had can- ■ ! the whole neighborhood, lome dayi previously, and had invited the farmers and their families to come and hear me preach. I demurred, but there was no getting out of it. Robert F. Sulzer never gives up. He has mastered the art of ultimate arrival. I preached, accordingly, in my hunting clothes. The schoolhouse was literally packed with people and there were others looking in at the windows. At the conclusion of the sermon Mr. Sulzer rose quietly and locked the door. Then I witnessed an order of procedure not laid down in Cushing's Manual or anywhere else. It revealed to me the secret of the man's power and of his singular success. He spoke to the people, as nearly as I can remember, in about this way: "I have heard that this is a godless community and I am inclined to believe it. Some of you were brought up in Christian homes; but that was so long ago that you have almost forgotten it. You haven't a church within ten miles and you don't care. You haven't even a Sunday school; so that your boys and girls are growing up in sin and ignorance and are going straight to the Devil if you don't look out. It doesn't make so much difference for you gray-haired pagans; but you ought to be ashamed and sorry for your children. Are you going to keep right on living this way, or would you like a change? It's never too late to mend. You thought I invited you here to listen to a man preach; but that wasn't it. He has told you that you ought to be Christians, and that you must be if you expect to go to heaven; but I'm here to help you take the first step. We're going to have

PEN PORTRAITS 5

a Sunday school in this neck of the woods; and we're going to start in right now. You can't get out of the schoolhouse till you've organized it. At ten o'clock next Sunday be on hand with your children in your best Sunday clothes. The bell won't ring, because there isn't any bell.

"But first we must organize; and to begin with we want a superintendent. Go on and nominate somebody. (A pause; with evident amusement.) Any Christian man will do. Is there a Scotchman here, who once learned 'The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want' at his mother's knee? (Good-natured laughter, with side glancings and pointings at one and another of the older men.) What's that? (Nobody had said a word.) 'Mr. McDougall?' Just the man! Mr. McDougall is nominated. All in favor say aye. Mr. McDougall you are superintendent of the Sunday school. Be on hand next Sunday at ten. Now we want a secretary; some bright young man who knows his a, b, abs and can write a bit. Ah, 'Harry Landis' did I hear you say? (Glances at the embarrassed youth, with laughter at his expense.) Harry is nominated. Those in favor say aye. Harry, you're it. Next Sunday be here promptly at ten with a pencil and scratch-block. Now for an organist. What's that? You say 'there's no organ here'? Correct; but I'll see that there is one. (And he did.) Now name one of your sweet young ladies who knows a cabinet organ from a jews-harp. 'Mary Ellis/ Fine; Miss Ellis is nominated. Anybody vote against her? Mary, I congratulate you on your popularity. One thing more; we want a librarian; for there'll be a lot of picture papers to distribute here next Sunday and if the school lasts till Christmas I'll see that you have a library. Now, who'll take care of it? Better name one of the best mothers you have; a good housewife who knows how to take care of things. Thank you: 'Mrs. Elmendorff.' She's the elect lady. Now the Sunday school is organized and under way. Don't forget ; next Sunday at ten. Bring your luncheon if you want to. I'll not be here; but the Sunday after look out for me: and as like as not we'll have another sermon, if you say so. Do you say so? Hold up your hands. (Every hand up.) Now the Lord bless the new school and every one of you. . Let us pray."

The Sunday school thus founded presently developed into a church; and it is a well-equipped and self-sustaining church to-day. Since then I have seen much and heard more of Robert F. Sulzer's way of doing things. His methods are out of the ordinary, but I have never known them to offend. His sense of humor is contagious and always carries him through. He makes people smile, but he makes them cry. too. His handshake is an open sesame to the hearts of those who do not like his religion. His homely prayer breaks down prejudice. His frank address is captivating and his blood earnestness is proof of his sincerity. He has lived for many years in the neighborhood of a college, but he never went through it. He has earned his only titular degree

PEN PORTRAITS 7

in the University of Christian Work. I never knew a more tactful man: and I have seen him more than once at close quarters with the enemy. He conquers by the strategy of love.

I am reminded of a letter I received, more than twenty-five years ago, from a colporteur of the Presbyterian Board of Publication and Sabbath School Work, saying that he had been instructed to canvass my parish in Dubuque for the sale of the Board's books and tracts. It seemed to me a foolish thing to peddle the Board's publications in a city with a population of twenty-five thousand and full of bookstores. I wrote the secretary accordingly, asking him to head the man off. This was not done, however; and in due time the colporteur arrived with a raw-boned horse and wagon. He advised me that he was acting under instructions and must proceed to canvass the city; he thought this would require two or three weeks, adding that, as his salary was small, he would need to be entertained. Thereupon I gave him a letter to one of my elders, a bookseller by the way, asking him to find a suitable boarding house and have the bill sent to me. As the colporteur was leaving he read the note and, returning, said, "This is all right, as far as it goes; but how about my beast?" I added a postscript requesting my elder to find accommodations for his ramshackle horse — which looked as if it needed a whole crop of oats in about a minute — saying that I would foot the bill. The same night, after prayer meeting, I asked the elder whether he had made the desired provisions for man and beast and his answer was: "Indeed I did. I told him Dubuque was no place for him and that my pastor was a fool. He's gone."

That set me thinking; and before I was through with it I came to the conclusion that the method of carrying on frontier work was superannuated and ineffective. The whole colporteur system was behind the times; and unfortunately home missions were involved in it. We were planting churches without rime or reason, in places that appeared to be destitute; but without knowing whether those churches were really needed or were likely to live. And we had no satisfactory means of finding out. A good many of our western ministers had expressed themselves in like manner; but the Well-meaning, poorly equipped and ineffective colporteurs kept right on serving as the vanguard of home missions in the Presbyterian Church of the United States of America. And meanwhile the American Sunday School Union was doing splendid work throughout the West, supported most largely by Presbyterian contributions, planting Sunday schools which often developed into "union churches," but rarely enrolled under the Presbyterian name. The other denominations had all practically abandoned the colporteur method and were pursuing their work in other and more effective ways.

Shortly after the incident referred to, I was asked to make a home missionary address in connection with a meeting of the General Assembly at Saratoga; and I told the pathetic (for it was pathetic)

PEN PORTRAITS 9

story of the colporteur and his beast. It gave me an opportunity of freeing my mind with reference to current methods of home missionary work, and of expressing the sentiment of western pastors generally as to what seemed a better way. Why should not our Sunday-school Board put missionaries into the field under instructions to plant Sunday schools in destitute regions everywhere and let them develop naturally into churches? Many doubtless would die; but the fittest would survive and demonstrate their power of self-support. This suggestion had been made, over and over again, in our western presbyteries, but nothing had thus far come of it.

A few months later I received a letter from James A. Worden, D.D., LL.D., superintendent of Sabbath-School and Missionary Work, saying that the Board of Publication and Sabbath School Work was ready to act, and asking me to name the best possible man, in my judgment, for the position of synodical superintendent for Minnesota, to supervise the planting of schools. Of course I named Robert F. Sulzer, of Albert Lea, Minnesota. I did this by telegraph, saying, "He knows more about planting Sunday schools than any other man in America." My old friend Dr. Worden said that if Mr. Sulzer was the sort of man I said, he was just the man needed.

Presently Mr. Sulzer was offered the appointment of Synodical Superintendent of Sunday School Work — and declined it. I wrote him and he persisted in saying no. He came up from Albert Lea

IO PLANTING THE OUTPOSTS

to Minneapolis for a conference and was hard to persuade. The Board then offered him a larger salary ; which he declined, preferring at length to accept the original proposition. He at once entered on his office without fuss or feathers. His understanding was that he was to plant Sunday schools, here, there and everywhere, in every destitute place. To do this he would require a considerable force of summer helpers, whom he proposed to get from among the students of various theological seminaries. The first summer showed a net result of about two hundred schools ; a majority of which were, of course, frozen out in the ensuing winter. But the fittest survived ; and among these were a few that developed a desire for preaching services. A score or more were provided accordingly, and most of these ultimately grew to be self-sustaining churches.

In his book Mr. Sulzer presents the method and outcome of his work. Not having seen any advance pages of the volume, I am naturally curious to see what he will make of it. I have no misgivings as to its readableness and profitableness ; for whatever of euphuistic rhetoric it may lack, it is sure to be pervaded by sound common sense. And it will exalt the Master. He would not permit me to say these things about him if he knew it: for there is no more modest or self-sacrificing man than he. May his years be multiplied and his future work be greatly prospered, to the glory of our common Lord, who in all our service is first, last, midst and all in all.

I. Rev. Robert N.

Adams, D.D.

Rev. Alfred W. Wright

II. A Fellow Worker's Testimony

By R. N. Adams, D.D.

Field Secretary Emeritus of Home Missions, Northwestern District

From personal knowledge of the field work under the Sabbath-School Department of the Publication Board during the last quarter century by the author of this book I can unhesitatingly say to those who read it that the half is not told. This quarter century began with what is known as "The New Departure" in the plan of Sunday-school mission work of the Presbyterian Church, United States of America, which plan I may say was initiated in a large measure by Rev. James A. Worden, D.D., LL.D., and was successfully operated under his splendid leadership for most of the period named.

The first appointment made under this plan by Dr. Worden was Robert Frederick Sulzer, who, in 1887, was appointed synodical superintendent for the Synod of Minnesota.

Mr. Sulzer is a unique character. His remarkable success is due largely to the make-up of the man. It was not college and theological seminary training that brought him to the front in the Sunday-school branch of church work, but it was common sense, consecrated energy, rare German humor, 11 persistence, perseverance and loyalty to Cirist. His apt illustrations in presenting- the value of Sunday-school work lose but little of their freshness by repetition.

His efficiency and acceptability in public addresses are clearly shown by the fact that in the last twenty-five years he has addressed the General Assembly fifteen times. The secret of his remarkable success in this complicated work will not appear in the volume itself, but has been indicated to those familiar with him and his work by the wisdom he has ever manifested in the selection of his subordinates, and his tact in holding them for so many years in the same field, as, for example, Thomas Scotton, of St. Cloud Presbytery, who has been the Sunday-school missionary there for over twenty years, and S. A. Blair, who has held a similar position in Duluth Presbytery nearly as long, both of whom are widely known for their consecration and effective work.

I therefore predict that this little unpretentious volume will meet a hearty reception on the part of the many who are privileged to know the author personally and who will appreciate the opportunity of getting the stimulus of a live wire. Indeed, I believe that this simple story of the triumphs of Sunday-school work during a quarter of a century in Minnesota will receive a hearty welcome on the part of all those who believe that the saving and the training of the children of this land are at the foundation of civic righteousness and national development.

III

THE MAN WHO SAVED A COLLEGE By Rev. A. W. Wright

The church will never know how much it is indebted to Mr. Sulzer for its development and progress in the Northwest. A single instance, which in his modesty he never mentions, will verify this statement, that is the saving of Albert Lea College, not once or twice, but three different times. When nearly everyone else had abandoned the hope of continuing it, he came to the rescue with singular tact and rare ability, and at one time he caught the arm of the sheriff before the hammer fell. Then he rallied the financial forces which put the college on its feet.

His little book tells a wonderful story, of the discovery of desert regions and of rich blessings which came to them after his "planting" and causing them to "blossom as the rose." By his faithfulness he has often, in feeble home mission churches, "strengthened the things that were ready to die." The book, with all its excellencies, does not tell the whole story, nor could anyone write it all, but those who know the author can read between the lines and gather much more from it than can others. But it is an inspiration to all.

Mr. Sulzer's institute work has been an inesti- 13

T4 mable benefit to large numbers of Qiristian workers. His kindness to the children and his sincere interest for them generally and individually has gained for him their confidence and entitles him to be called "The Giildren's Friend." His wellchosen words, often quietly spoken at a judicious moment, have caused sinners to yield promptly to the call of the Master and become his followers, and when strenuous measures were necessary to capture the more obstinate ones, he found such measures in his possession and used them effectively. It makes me think, as I recall so many of these incidents, of the fitness of the little verse Dr. S. R. Ferguson dedicated to Mr. Sulzer :

The mountain stream with rush and roar, The dash of wave upon the shore, The cyclone with its power and might, The gentle morn with love and light, The quiet eve with peace and rest — All these are SULZER at his best.

Mr. Sulzer's work, together with that of his colaborers, has settled beyond controversy the question of the value of denominational Sunday-school work. It is a distinctive work and yet the greatest assistant to home missions we have. May he long be preserved to lead the hosts in this grand division of the Lord's army in the Northwest, and when he comes to cast his troubles at the Master's feet, may we who here witnessed his labors also witness his unspeakable reward when it is bestowed upon him.

EARLY LIFE

Chapter I Early Life

I was born in Koenigsbach, Baden-Baden, Germany, on January 16, 1845. This was a Lutheran village of about a thousand people. My mother's home had been in Heidelberg, my father's in a little Catholic village near there, and when they were married they had come to Koenigsbach to make it their home.

In these little German villages there is either a Catholic or a Lutheran church, but not both, and everyone in the village belongs to the church that is there. So my father had been brought up a Catholic, while my mother was a Lutheran. I was baptized in the Lutheran church of our village, but as I grew older I went with my father to a Catholic church in a neighboring village nearly every other Sunday.

There were two sisters and my three brothers in the home, and my old grandmother lived with us until we came to America. She was blind, and so could not read the Bible she loved, and after I learned to read I had to read it to her and commit some to memory. I did it because I had to. Sometimes she would pull me out of bed half asleep to say my prayers. I used to lead her to prayer meeting, and many a time there was nobody there but the preacher, my grandmother and 17 myself. It gave me a queer impression of Christianity. I used to think that when I grew old like grandmother I would be a Christian; that Christianity was only for the old folks.

We all had to go to church every Sunday morning, as the custom was. The boys sat under the organ loft, and our school-teacher sat on a high chair so he could watch the boys as the guard watches the prisoners in the chapel during service. In case any of us did not sit up as straight as a gopher or looked over the left shoulder we had our names read out in school the next morning and education put into us with a hickory cane.

The church on the hill was a large stone building, even the floor being of stone. There was no heating stove.

Easter and Christmas were great days. The preachers and teachers were very dignified and seldom recognized the boys and girls on the street. In addition to the other school days, school was held every Saturday for half a day, when we studied hymns, the Bible and the Catechism.

My brother and my uncle had come to America a few years before and settled at Easton, Pennsylvania. They were doing well and kept writing us what a wonderful country this was, and urging my father to come over. So in March, 1858, we left Germany in a sailing vessel bound for America. The voyage lasted for thirty-nine days.

I had learned a few words of English while I was on the ship. They were not good words, but I did not know this. I used these. We lived on

EARLY LIFE the East Side in New York City. My father sent me to the German school for some time. My schooling - in the English language was only about three or four months in all.

One day when I was playing marbles on the street, one of the workers from Dr. Crosby's mission, which was located over a liquor store, asked me to come to the Sunday school there. Hope Chapel now stands near the site of this mission. The first Sunday I attended, two or three people offered me a hymn book. I couldn't read it, for it was English, but the spirit of the whole meeting made a deep impression on me; they acted as though they loved a fellow there, and boys like to be loved, as well as girls.

The next year I also attended the German Lutheran Church, of which my mother was a member, to prepare for confirmation. When fourteen years old I was confirmed (though not converted) in a class of thirty-eight. In the afternoon of the day I was confirmed I went with two or three of the boys in the class to the home of one of the officers of the church who kept a store, and we all played cards for the cider. Later that day we went down to the Bowery and had another good time. Soon after confirmation I taught a class of boys in that Sunday school and sang in the boys' choir.

At the close of the hard times, in 1858, my father was out of work for seven months and I had a chance to work in the first hoop-skirt factory started in New York by a Mr. Wagner of Paris. At first I worked for fifty cents a week, and then my pay was raised to seventy-five cents. Later I worked in a confectionery store and had to go to Wall Street once a week with a load of fancy cakes to sell on the street. In i860 I worked at the tinner's trade in connection with a hardware store.

When the Civil War broke out I enlisted in the Garabaldi Zouaves. When I offered myself for service the captain said, "You are not big- enough to carry a musket." I told him I was big enough to carry a snare drum, and the bystanders told the captain to "take the boy." In my estimation I was the richest, greatest man in New York City on my way to the barracks. In a day or so I went back home to get a change of garments and told mother where I was. I said:

"Mother, I am a soldier. I am on a furlough of two hours, and I am going right back. I just came home to get some clean clothes."

But she replied:

"If you say anything more about being a soldier, I will spank you."

As I had not been sworn in — I was too young — she was able to keep me from going to the war.

When President Lincoln was in New York on his way to Washington for his inauguration I ran ahead of the procession and climbed a tree, where I waited for three hours to see him. Fortunately I was just in front of the Astor House, where he was stopping and so could see him and hear his address to the people.

My father — who was a tailor — wanted me to

EARLY LIFE 21

work with him, but as I didn't like the trade I made up my mind to leave New York to make my way in the world. I was then seventeen years of age. As my mother kissed me good-by she said:

"Now, Robert, when you get into trouble any time, go to Jesus ; he will help you out."

And in the days that followed, when I was at the card table or in the dance hall, these words would come back to me and make me think.

With eleven cents in my pocket I went to Passaic, New Jersey, where I worked for a tailor for a little over a day. From there I walked to Paterson, New Jersey. The town clock was striking twelve as I entered the city, and by one o'clock I had found employment and was at work. My pay was three dollars a week; out of this I paid two dollars and seventy-five cents for board and lodging, without washing. My employer promised to give me all the overtime I wanted at ten cents an hour. Some weeks I worked as much as ninety hours in all, and occasionally even more. Besides that I took care of two horses before seven in the morning and after six at night, for fifty cents a week. They had to be groomed and harnessed and the wagon put in front of the office before seven o'clock.

I didn't write home for a long time, and my father and mother were very much worried over it. My mother went to a fortune teller to find out where I was, and this fortune teller told her T had enlisted and that I was down South with the army; that I had just been in quite a battle and that another battle was coming off in the near future. If I went safely through that I would return again. The battle came off; they never heard from me, and my mother went temporarily insane. When I finally wrote to mother, father came to see me and brought me a suit of new clothes. This was the only time he was ever out of New York City.

WESTWARD BOUND

Chapter II Westward Bound

In 1863 I started for the West and worked my way to Port Jervis, New York. From there I worked my way on the canal boat to Dunkirk. In Dunkirk I could not find work, so I went on further west to Elmira. I rode part of the way on the top of the cars till the brakeman drove me off; then I went into the immigrant car and stretched out on a bench. When the conductor passed through the car I had my big slouch hat over my eyes and was snoring, and consequently he supposed I was one of the immigrants and passed me by.

Again at Elmira there was no work, so I took the train to the next station, where I stopped for half a day and helped plant tobacco. In that half day I had all the farming I wanted. I started on foot for Corning, New York, where I landed about dark, and at once was engaged to begin work in a hardware and tin store next morning at seven o'clock.

One Sunday morning — after being there for some months — I came to four churches in a row and decided to go into one, which turned out to be the Presbyterian Church. After the benediction I hurried out from the back seat, but the old janitor was too quick for me. He followed close 3 2 5 behind me, laid his gentle hand on my shoulder and urged me to stay to Sunday school. I stayed just to please him. The teacher was Rev. Wm. A. Niles, D.D. At the close of the lesson he asked me to come again.

The next day Dr. Niles called on me in the old dirty tin shop. This was the first ministerial call I ever had — and I was much pleased over it. The following winter an evangelist from Rochester held a series of meetings in Dr. Niles's church, and at this happy time I found Christ as my personal Saviour, uniting with the church on confession of faith.