IN THE HEART OF THE LOGGING DISTRICT.
In the spring of 1899, Frank E. Higgins began his work in Bemidji. The
Home Missions Committee of Duluth Presbytery had invited him to assist
the little group of Christians in the new town, where assistance was
badly needed, for the place was in the heart of the logging district,
and was infamous for its traffic in evil. The hosts of sin were well
organized, but righteousness needed the encouragement of a strong man.
The Bemidji field was first opened to Christian work by Mr. S. A.
Blair, the Sabbath School missionary of Duluth Presbytery, in 1896. In
those days no railway reached the place, but the pine forest beckoned
to the logging companies and the Mississippi river offered an outlet
for the logs. Bemidji could only be reached by following the rough
trails through the swamps and around the hills from Walker, Minnesota,
thirty-five miles away. Most of the supplies were carried up the lakes
and rivers and toted over the portages to the new village.
When Mr. Blair started on his thirty-five mile tramp to Bemidji,
the Baptist denomination also decided to send a man to organize for
them. But the rains descended and the floods came, until the poorly
made roads were more impassable than ever. Not relishing the flooded
condition, the immersionist gave up the task--for once water interfered
with the Baptist growth. But Mr. Blair, prior to his conversion, had
been a lumberjack, and none of these things moved him. Wading the
depths and fording the streams, he at last arrived at the hamlet on
Lake Bemidji, and organized the work. Later a church was partly built
by Mr. Blair, and occasional services were held. It was to take charge
of this field that Mr. Higgins turned his steps to the north. He had
seen the conditions of the woodsmen in Barnum and other towns, yet
he needed the Bemidji experience to show him their real poverty of
soul, and their utter helplessness in the face of open, alluring vice.
Here he saw them at their worst, given over to shame, encouraged in
degradation. They were as sheep without a shepherd, a prey to every
spoiler and evil designer.
It would require one whose ability is far above mine to pen a picture
that would adequately set forth the low plane of life found in the
early days of Bemidji. Since that time it has changed for the better,
but it is still influenced by the past and is far from a moral Utopia.
Nature has done everything to make the place attractive and restful.
Lake Bemidji and Lake Irving are inviting sheets of water with a shore
line of nearly fifty miles. The great Father of Waters joins their
crystal bodies, and at the point of meeting the little city of Bemidji
is built. Every part of the city is pine-covered. Those who platted the
place removed only the larger trees, and the homes rest in the shelter
of the constant green. Like a huge emerald in a setting of purest
silver is the green sheltered city with its rippling lakes and flowing
river.
Nature had contributed lavishly, but when man came he brought with
him the defects of humanity and painted the fair location with the
blackness of unlicensed vice, filling the Eden of beauty with the
blight of Sodom. It was a town with a wide open policy, in which
saloons abounded, brothels flourished and gamblers worked unmolested.
It was known as one of the most shameless places in the state, and in
those days seemingly lived up to its reputation. The police force was
little more than a name, for the saloon men were "the powers that be."
It was to the interest of the liquor men that the town be run as wide
open as possible, and the business interests as represented by the
liquor sellers were far from the Puritan mould. A convenient double
blind was on Justice. The Law was roped and thrown. Rum was the real
owner of the town. It was above the Law. It was master.
Gambling was connected with most of the saloons and numerous devices
were in sight to attract the indifferent. Not satisfied with what
came to them, the runners of the saloons and dens went into the camps
to drum up trade for their respective places of business--creating a
sentiment that would induce the boys to visit their dens of vice.
The brothels were large and accessible, being near the center of the
town. In one of the places a large number of negresses was kept to
pander to the bestial instincts of the men.
It would be difficult to give a description of those early day
conditions. A citizen of the town remarked, "You can't put enough black
in the picture when you try to paint the early Bemidji." In justice
to the moral element of the place we must add that there were always
those who strove for better conditions, and the efforts they made have
met with some success, for the moral conditions of Bemidji in 1907 are
vastly superior to the conditions at the time of which we write.
It was early in 1899 when Mr. Higgins became a resident of Bemidji.
The Presbyterian church had been organized but a short time, yet it
was in a state of coma that was rapidly passing into death. Only
two members could be found. A church building had been erected, but
because of financial difficulties it had not been finished and was far
from attractive or comfortable. Frank Higgins' task was to find the
scattered adherents, then complete the building.
For want of a more suitable place of residence, the unfinished edifice
became the meeting place and manse combined. The few houses obtainable
were mostly rude shacks whose exteriors were covered with tar paper,
instead of weather boards, and even these temporary structures, poor
and inadequate, were hard to obtain.
During the early part of the Bemidji ministry, Marguerite, the only
child of Mr. and Mrs. Higgins, came to bless the parents' hearts and
add joy to the missionary home.
The years at Bemidji were strenuous, but successful. The unfinished
edifice was enlarged and completed during the first year of the
layman's work. The year following found him building the cozy manse,
while the membership grew with increasing steadiness. In connection
with the church at Bemidji was a station at Farley, and during the
third year a little chapel was erected there. By this time the Bemidji
congregation had outgrown the capacity of the building and in the
fourth year a more commodious and suitable church was built.
In these full years the camps had not been neglected. With the erection
of the numerous buildings, to which he had contributed manual labor
as well as superintendence, Mr. Higgins' hands were seemingly well
filled. In addition to these duties, however, he every winter gave his
personal attention to nine camps and regularly visited three of them
each week. The seven addresses a week, the miles between the camps, and
the pastoral calls consumed the hours, leaving no time for leisure and
idleness, while from all sides came the demands of the foresters for
religious instruction and services.
One morning when he returned from the camps, Mrs. Higgins told him of
an urgent call from the Sisters' Hospital. Hastily he went to the ward
and there found Will McDonald, a Highland Scotchman, at the point of
death. McDonald had met with a serious accident in the camps. The Sky
Pilot and the teamster were well acquainted. McDonald's boyhood days
were spent among the bonny hills of the homeland, in a quiet Christian
home. In early manhood he came to Minnesota and followed the winter
woods. There, amidst the rough life he forgot his early instruction and
traveled the ways to which temptation so readily pointed.
On entering the ward the preacher tried to cheer the dying man, but the
woodsman turned to him and said:
"It's no use, Frank, the jig is up. I've got to go. I'm nearing the
landing with a heavy load. Do you think I'll make the grade?"
He was a teamster and had hauled many heavy loads up the grade, and
now he was thinking of the unknown way he was traveling and the
possibilities of the journey.
"Yes, you can make the grade, Will, but you will have to look for
help," said the preacher.
"You mean I'll have to get another team of leaders to help me up the
grade?" he asked.
"That is it," said Mr. Higgins, "but thank God, McDonald, you have
the greatest Leader to give you a lift--the Lord Jesus Christ. Every
man he has helped has made the grade. Listen, Will, while I read you
something." Taking out his pocket testament, he read the story of the
prodigal, and how by the Father's help he made the grade. Then came the
strengthening text setting forth God's love for a lost world and the
needlessness of perishing. "Turn to him, Will, and the grade will be
easy."
Kneeling by the bed, the missionary prayed to the loving God for help,
asking that the poor broken prodigal might make the grade and safely
arrive at the heavenly landing. In the ward the other lumberjacks heard
the prayer, and while the tears fell over faces unaccustomed to them,
the boys uttered in silence a sympathetic prayer that Will McDonald
might reach the hill-top.
A few hours later Mr. Higgins called again at the hospital. The screen
was around the bed and by the side sat the sister of charity with book
and beads. The Sky Pilot knelt by the Scotchman's side, and when the
dying man saw the visitor a smile came upon his face.
"You're right, Frank, a great Leader is Jesus Christ. I couldn't have
made the grade without him. I needed his help, and he is strong. I'm
going up the grade easily, we're going to make it sure."
A moment more--the missionary bent close to catch the words, for
McDonald was passing rapidly away. "Tell the boys I've made the grade,"
he whispered, and with a smile was gone. He had left the valley; the
unfading green of heavenly plains was before him. He was with the great
Leader, through whose divine strength many a poor prodigal has made the
grade.
The Presbyterian church has always stood for an educated ministry.
The demands it makes of its candidates for ordination are of the
highest order, and it is well that this should continue. The system of
doctrine taught by it demands thorough preparation for the effort of
Presbyterianism has ever been directed to the intellect rather than to
the emotions. It believes that men should be educated into the Kingdom
rather than persuaded into it.
Ever since the night of consecration in St. Luke's Hospital, where the
dying man pleaded with him to "go back to the camps and tell the boys
of Jesus Christ," Frank Higgins had desired to devote all his efforts
to missionary work among the lumberjacks. He felt that he could labor
more successfully if he went into the camps as an ordained minister
rather than as a layman. There were many who felt that a layman could
do the work as effectively as an ordained man, and some even claimed
that a layman could do better work in such a field. Frank Higgins did
not agree with the latter, and results have proven the correctness of
his judgment. "The lumberjacks want no flunkey, but the real thing,"
as one expressed it. "We don't want a Sunday school teacher, but a
full baked Sky Pilot who has got all the degrees agoin'." Mr. Higgins
knew this, and wished to go to them as an ordained man, hence his
persistence in the pursuit of ordination.
Systematic Theology has its difficulties to the seminarian, but more
for him who attempts to master it alone. This and other studies
composed the task that Presbytery had placed before Frank Higgins,
and it was necessary that a knowledge of these be obtained before the
coveted "laying-on-of-hands" be granted. In the presence of his studies
he saw the handicap in which he was placed through lack of scholastic
training, and with the multitudinous demands of his large field he
lacked the time for mental attainments. The nearest Presbyterian pastor
was ninety miles away, so he could look for little assistance from that
quarter. He could not get advice and instruction from others, he must
labor alone.
For seven long years he struggled with his studies, often with
disappointing results and with the feeling that it would never be
said of him as of Paul, "much learning doth make thee mad,"--although
his unsuccessful attempts to acquire the desired learning threatened
to this end. Time and again the Presbytery refused to grant the
petitioner's request for ordination. Meeting after meeting he came
before them for examination, but still they did not feel that they
could solemnly set him aside to the work of the Christian ministry.
The action of the Presbytery must not be misunderstood. The members
saw the lack of training, the mental defects of the man, the rough
exterior of the petitioner--for there was little about him to suggest
the pulpit--and while they loved and admired the hearty, consecrated
missionary, they hesitated to confer the rite of ordination upon him.
They were men who knew the standards of the church and felt that,
measured by the plumb-line of Presbyterian custom, he did not meet
all its requirements. They were only men, and as such were compelled
to judge by exteriors. It was not strange that they hesitated, for
the sentiment of the church is against the ordination of men who have
not qualified in the full course. Stones there are, however, that no
contrivance of man can make to shine, yet they fill a niche in the
building where a glazed surface would be a conspicuous defect. Such is
Frank Higgins. Try to polish him and he is still the same, but a rough
ashler is as necessary to the building as a smooth and perfect one.
One of his examiners asked him, "What seminary did you attend?"
"I never saw a seminary," he answered.
"What is your college?" was asked.
"My college is the Bible and yonder forest, as I believe God intended,"
he replied. "I do not ask for ordination because I am qualified by the
schools, but because God calls me, and there is a work waiting for me."
According to custom, the candidate was asked to withdraw while the
discussion was held. For three hours the presbyters discussed his case
and when the vote was taken the desired privilege was withheld.
Later in the session, in his remarks before the gathering, Mr.
Higgins said: "I need not tell you that the decision of this body
is disappointing, for I have long desired the boon of ordination.
During the last seven years I have appeared before you many times,
and asked to be set aside to the ministry. I know my insufficiencies;
no man can know them better. I do not blame you for with-holding
"the-laying-on-of-hands," but I was ordained of God long years ago to
preach the unsearchable riches of Christ, and although unsanctioned by
man, I shall still preach the message with which he has provided me. I
have asked ordination for the last time. I am satisfied with the call
of God. It is sufficient for me. I ask no more." While he spoke, the
spirit of God told of the inner life of the candidate and the brethren
saw the consecrated heart.
At a special meeting held shortly afterwards, the Presbytery
reconsidered its action, and Frank E. Higgins was ordained. While the
Presbytery had hesitated, it has never regretted its final action.
It has never ceased to rejoice in the labors of the determined,
undiscouraged man who amidst manifold labors and difficulties, worked,
waited and prayed seven years, like Jacob of old.
His oft-repeated prayer for ordination having been answered, he
looked to the camps as the field of his future endeavor. "Lord, open
the door," he had asked, and the door was opened. At the time of his
ordination the Bemidji congregation was building the new church. Mr.
Higgins helped in the manual labor. One day while he was shingling the
tower a boy brought him a letter requesting him to come to Winona Lake,
Indiana, and consult with the Evangelistic Committee relative to the
conditions in the logging camps. As a result of the conference Frank
Higgins was commissioned to take charge of this work in Minnesota.
The appointment was made in August, 1902, and with it came the real
opportunity for which he had waited since the night in the hospital.
He was going "to tell the boys of Jesus Christ."
Shortly after his return to Bemidji the Rev. Frank Higgins took a
strange ministerial, or rather, unministerial vacation. The woodsmen
of winter are farm hands, railroad constructionists and wanderers in
summer, and Mr. Higgins decided that he would acquaint himself with the
summer life of the men. His visits to the camps during the past seven
years had already given him a knowledge of their winter conditions.
Donning the clothes of a laboring man, he mounted a freight train and
started on a long western trip of quiet investigation. In western North
Dakota he labored for several days as a harvest hand, meeting many of
the men he had preached to in the Minnesota camps. From this place he
shipped with a gang of laborers and worked as a scraperman on a new
railway in Montana. Shortly afterwards he was with the pick and shovel
gang at The Dalles in Oregon, only to leave and work as a deck hand
on a boat going down the Columbia river. Portland, Oregon, ended his
western trip.
In all parts of his hobo trip he found the winter woodsmen, some
laboring, some leisurely passing the warm and sunny days in idleness.
Mr. Higgins visited the larger churches wherever he stopped and as a
workingman entered their doors to see the reception they would tender
to a man who apparently belonged to the wanderers. The trip broadened
his experience and gave an insight into the life of the nomads among
whom he was shortly to take up permanent work. He saw the life as
one who had lived and experienced a portion of it. He felt the pangs
of hunger, encountered the slights and rejections, the hardships and
lovelessness to which their lives were subjected, and out of the
knowledge came a broader sympathy, a more ready ability to help.
When he returned to Bemidji the new church was ready for dedication and
after a few weeks he left the pastorate to give himself wholly to the
twenty thousand men of Minnesota's camps. The field was ready and he
now became in reality, "The Lumberjack Sky Pilot."
[Illustration: FILLING THE WATER-TANK--THE STREET SPRINKLER OF THE
FOREST]