Reclaimed Memories

roy and I talked at length about our return to the West Virginia Conference of the United Brethren Church, after he had received his Master's degree from Ohio State University, in Columbus, Ohio. He had held two very successful revivals in the Elkins Church and felt he could do good work there. The church was on a side street in that small city and was without sufficient parking space for it to grow. We knew that Rev. Koontz was moving for his last three years before retirement and that the church was hoping that we would be willing to take his place. This was one time that we were right sure of our assignment before the time for the conference to meet.

The parsonage was at 20 Buffalo Street, directly across the road from a service station. There were three nice bedrooms and, glory be, a bathroom upstairs! This was the first time since leaving the home we were buying, before going to the seminary, that we had a bathroom or even running water. The house needed a lot of "sprucing up" inside. The walls were papered, but were dingy and unattractive. Nothing had been done to improve its appearance for years. I remarked to Mrs. Koontz that a lot of work needed to be done. She replied "Well Dearie, I hope you will be able to get them to fix it up, but we have never been able to." That rather intimidated me, but I knew we were not going to live in that house for any length of time, the way it was.

Troy called the parsonage trustees together, and we took them through the house, explaining what we would like to do. We told them that if the church would bear the expense of the materials needed for the 'beautification" of the house, that we would do the work ourselves, with the help of volunteers.

The trustees agreed to that and, without even straightening up the downstairs, we began. The plan of the house was a rather odd one. In the front was a large, square front porch, measuring about twelve by twelve feet. The front door led into a rather large reception room; from it the stairs lead to the upstairs hall. The living room and the dining room were opposite each other, on either side of the reception hall. Neither were very large. A door from the dining room led into the kitchen, which was big enough for family eating. Directly opposite the kitchen door was a door leading to the largest room in the house, probably about twelve by fifteen feet. This room later became Troy's study, but when we moved in the fall of 1945 it was the storage room for most of the downstairs furniture, while we did some remodeling.

We took out the partition between the reception hall making a large living room. The biggest job was moving the stairs to the back wall of this room. We repapered every room in the house and refinished all woodwork. It took about six months to complete the work, but we were happy with the results.

Our parsonage was the closest one to the courthouse and we had a lot of weddings in that living room. The boys were coming back from the war and many of them were ready for marriage. Troy's pastor's record shows that he married seventeen couples between the 21st of September and December 15th that year. All the moneys received from that source went into a special vacation fund.

Some funny incidents happened in connection with some of the weddings. The young couples were usually quite nervous. Forty-six years ago not too many of them had even a high school education. They came from miles around Elkins, which was the county seat of Randolph County. It was the center of a large mountain area, with small villages or settlements within its shopping area. One young man was so excited that as soon as Troy said, "I now pronounce you man and wife," he bolted for the front door ahead of his bride, opened the cloak room door near the front door and stuck his head in among the coats hanging there. He was not going to wait for the prayer or any congratulations, which would have followed. We wondered if it was a "shot-gun" wedding.

That phrase, "I now pronounce you man and wife," always irritated me! Why not "husband and wife?" In those days one did not change the vows ordained by the church discipline, as is being done today. That would almost have seemed as irreligious as trying to change "The Ten Commandments."

One day Troy received a message to come to the court house to marry a couple. It was very evident that this was indeed a forced marriage. The girl's father was with the couple as they stood for the ceremony. The girl was "large with child" as was the common expression for her condition. The young man was sullen and silent. Troy thought how sad it was for the couple to be in such a gloomy mood, at the beginning of their life together. As they walked to their car Troy tried to lighten the atmosphere by telling a joke and the groom warmed up a little. When they reached the car the young man opened the door and inside were two small children. He said, "Preacher, these are our kids." The girl's father spoke up, "I did not mind supporting one extra one, but by God, I made up my mind that I was not going to support three!" It was indeed a "shotgun" wedding, but the gun should have been used earlier!

As far as I know, no minister ever sets a certain fee to perform a wedding. Five dollars was considered a good amount in those days. Troy has married many couples for, from $1.00 to $5.00. The usual conversation went: "Preacher, what do I owe you?" Troy usually said, with a grin, "Whatever you think she's worth." The largest amount he ever received for this service was $50.00. That was in the little church he served after our retirement.

Troy talked to one couple who were living together near Elkins, without having the benefit of the clergy. That was unusual in those days and considered a disgrace. They already had three or four children and seemed committed to each other, but were poverty stricken. Troy told them that for sake of the children they should be married. One of them said "We do not have enough money to get married." A marriage license at that time cost $2.00. Troy said "Surely you can scrape up enough money to buy the license and if you will come to Elkins I will marry you for nothing." A few days later they appeared at the parsonage door. But they did not come empty-handed! They brought a live chicken! I remember that we penned her up in the garage. I do not remember how we managed to slay her, but she became the basis for our next Sunday's dinner!

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