Pilgrimage of Joy . . .

ON BOARD THE QUEEN ELIZABETH
W. Carl Ketcherside

In these days of almost casual tourist travel it is difficult to explain the problems incurred in going to Great Britain in the early part of 1947. We had been in close contact for three years with Albert Winstanley, an outstanding young preacher of the gospel from Lancashire, who was by this time in Newtongrange, near Edinburgh, working with the Scots brethren. He contacted the various districts and we had drawn up an itinerary which would keep me occupied almost every day while we were in Great Britain. Since the first contact with Adam and George Bruce in Windsor, Ontario, in 1929, correspondence had been exchanged with saints abroad, and now sixteen years had elapsed, and we were waiting for a frightful war to cease.

On May 7, 1945, at a ceremony in the headquarters of General Dwight Eisenhower, at Reims, General Alfred Jodi signed an unconditional surrender of Germany's armed forces to the Allies. On September 2, just four months later, General MacArthur and Admiral Nimitz accepted the formal surrender of Japan aboard the battleship Missouri in Tokyo Bay. Vast areas of the cities in England lay in ruins. The task of cleaning up the rubble and restoring order from chaos would take many months.

I contacted a steamship company representative who said there were no sailings yet and even if there were I would have to secure a priority from the State Department. The State Department informed me there was a doubt the English Government would approve travel at the time. I went to the British Consul who asked me to make application to His Majesty's Passport Approval Bureau. The bureau notified us they would grant a visa for travel in the United Kingdom. The Cunard Lines told us they had a waiting list "a mile long" when passenger traffic was resumed. We wired New York and found that the Queen Elizabeth was scheduled for her first eastward trip, after converting from a troop-carrying vessel, at the very time we wanted to go.

After our reservation was confirmed we set about getting a passport. It was not easy because of the war restrictions still in vogue and it was necessary to file three notarized letters from the Manchester Avenue congregation before we were granted permission to go. When all of the legal requirements had been met other details had to be arranged. The children were in high school but Nell's father and mother agreed to come to Saint Louis to look after them during our absence. It was not easy for them because her father was the mayor of Flat River, as well as an elder in the local congregation.

Because of severe food rationing in the United Kingdom we arranged for congregations to send food parcels to help out. Some items were in shorter supply than during the war, among them fats, sweets, fruits and soap. Regulations permitted the sending of only one parcel per week by any person or firm, and the weight of each parcel was limited to 22 pounds. We assigned various areas in Great Britain to congregations which wanted to help, and each congregation sent one parcel per week for three weeks, making a total of 66 pounds sent to each place. Manchester Avenue congregation sent to the Lancashire District; Hartford, Illinois to Birmingham; Anderson, Indiana to Belfast, North Ireland; while other brethren sent to Kircaldy, Glasgow, London, etc.

When it was announced publicly that I planned to make the visit to the United Kingdom at the invitation of the brethren, it apparently created consternation in the ranks of the "mainline" Churches of Christ in the United States. They resolved to thwart it at all costs. The political propaganda machines were turned on full blast. All who had any relationship with congregations in Great Britain, especially American servicemen who had been stationed there, were urged to write and insist that my visit be cancelled. It was decided that the one person best qualified to offset any influence I might exert was John Allan Hudson.

Brother Hudson, who is best known as the originator of the Old Paths Book Club, had served as the minister of Southwest Church in Los Angeles, where he assisted the George Pepperdine Foundation, but was currently with the congregation at 39th and Flora Avenues, in Kansas City. He was well-known to the British brethren because of his work in Birmingham, as well as in Australia and New Zealand. With their characteristic zeal for local autonomy, a group of preachers met together to plan the strategy for stopping my work in Britain before it began. It was decided the best way to do it would be to support a "faithful preacher" in England for a whole year, preferably Brother Hudson. His chief objective would be to keep the British brethren from hearing me. A few weeks before I left home I received this letter from a brother in Britain:

Brother John Allan Hudson has written to say he is flying over here to be in Britain before you arrive. I thought I ought to tell you this, so that you should be prepared. Yesterday I learned that he had decided to come to Britain (supported by churches in the U.S.) for twelve months. This was to be from April onwards, but apparently, on hearing of your proposed visit, he decided to come earlier. You may draw your own conclusions from this. But I do want you to know it will in no way interfere with your visit, or upset the arrangements in hand. There is much I want to discuss with you regarding Brother Hudson's visit, and we shall be able to talk it over thoroughly while you are here.

The "Central Intelligence Agency" of the American Churches of Christ did its work well. Form letters were sent to the elders of many of the congregations where I was to speak. Later on, after Nell and I had been guests for several days in the homes of such brethren they would bring out the letters and we would read them and have a good laugh about them. They uniformly classified me as dangerous, divisive and destructive of the peace and welfare of the body of Christ. All of them made dire predictions of what would happen to the British churches as a result of my coming. One of them concluded with the frightening admonition, "You have been warned!"

Our American brethren who are accustomed to seeing elders "roll over and play dead" or "jump through a theological hoop" when certain preachers issued an ultimatum reckoned without the British brethren. They did not understand the innate sense of fairness which caused them to hear a man out before assessing him as guilty. They did not take into account the quiet stubbornness which resented interference from across the Atlantic. I am afraid some of the Scots had stereotyped Americans, perhaps from the movies, and thought they all wore wide-brimmed hats and cowboy boots, and slapped strangers between the shoulder blades and said too loudly, "How you doin' podner?"

I went one day to visit a precious aged sister who lived in a tiny stone cottage in a colliery village. She spoke with a brogue as thick as porridge. You could have sliced it with a knife. If her daughter had not been there to interpret neither of us would have known much about what the other was saying. But it was apparent she liked me from the start and I loved her and the cozy little "hoose" in which she lived. When I led a little prayer and was preparing to leave she said she was pleased I had not shown up wearing a big "bonnet" and "yelling like a cooboy."

One day at Ulverston, I was sitting before the grate with Brother Walter Crosthwaite, the sage of the Old Paths movement, and one of the saintliest men I have ever met. He was preparing tea in a soot-blackened kettle. Neither of us had said anything for several minutes. Then he spoke, almost as if in reverie and to himself. "All of the real problems which have plagued the churches in Britain in the past have come from America." After a pause he added, "Most of them from Texas." That day he paid me the highest compliment I received in his country. "I thank the Father for allowing Nell and you to come, and for making it possible for you to stay in our humble abode." He did not realize, in his unsurpassable humility, that to be with him was a mountain-top experience I could never forget.

Now we will get back to our trip. On Tuesday morning, February 18, a group of thirty brothers and sisters gathered with us for breakfast at the Fred Harvey Lunch Room in the Saint Louis Union Station. After we had eaten together, Nell and I bade our children and the others a rather tearful farewell, and boarded the famous Sunshine Special pulled on its eastern journey over the Pennsylvania Lines track. Twenty-four hours later, at 7:30 a.m., we arrived in New York City with thirteen hours to spend before boarding the huge ship which was scheduled to sail in the early morning hours.

Since neither of us had ever been in New York City we were like "babes in the woods," gaping and gawking at soaring skyscrapers, and "sunburning our tonsils" gazing upward in open-mouthed amazement. Fortunately, no city slicker buttonholed us to try and sell us the Brooklyn Bridge. We had heard about Automats but had never seen one, so we ate a late breakfast at one and then went on a walking tour of Rockefeller Center. From the 70th floor of the RCA Building we could see the Queen Elizabeth lying in dock at pier 90. Further on we could make out the Statue of Liberty which we would pass next morning.

At 8:30 o'clock that evening we joined the throng milling about and boarded the greatest vessel of her day. Since that type of transoceanic travel has now passed away, supplanted by air transportation, I would like to describe one of the queens. The other was the sister ship the Queen Mary. The Queen Elizabeth was rated at 83,673 gross tons, with 14 decks. The vessel was more than five city blocks long, 118 feet wide and 234 feet from keel to masthead. The total space available to passengers for deck games and strolling exceeded in area 2½ football fields. There was even a special exercise area for dogs and each day the pampered pets were brought from the ship's kennels to be paraded around.

There were three anchors, each of which weighed 16 tons, and 2,000 portholes containing 2500 square feet of glass. There were 30,000 electric lights and 4000 miles of wiring. In all there were 35 public rooms—lounges, smoking rooms, dance halls, restaurants, children's playrooms, libraries, swimming pools, gymnasia, and three theaters. One of these seated 338 persons. The area of the First Class Restaurant was 13,133 square feet. On the main deck was located the winter garden with a profusion of fresh flowers. Here the ship's orchestra played classical selections at afternoon tea and again at night. Here also one could obtain free a copy of the "Ocean Times", a newspaper published on board each night.

On "A" Deck there was a large shop retailing everything from safety pins to men's shirts. On the same level was a barber shop for men and a beauty shop for women, as well as a smoking lounge with comfortable seats for several hundred. "B" Deck contained the nursery, a tourist gymnasium, a cinema and a large library. I checked out a copy of "This Man Truman"; written by an Englishman. I got a bang out of some of the expressions such as "biscuit-barrel politics", which is as close as the British can get to our "cracker-barrel politics." Winston Churchill was right. We are a single people separated only by a common language.

We traveled "tourist" which was cheapest. Our stateroom had a lower and upper bunk-style bed, wardrobe, dressing table, chair and wash basin with hot and cold water. The space was restricted and while one did not actually need to back out into the corridor to turn around it would have helped. It was our home for six nights, the last at the expense of Cunard Lines. We warped into the dock at Southampton promptly at 2:00 p.m. on Tuesday, February 25. Tourist passengers were to disembark at 4:00 p.m. Then it happened! After part of our luggage was already off, a dock strike was called and none of us could leave the vessel.

Passengers became infuriated. They besieged the Purser's staff. There was cursing, shoving and yelling, but all to no avail. Staterooms had to be made up with clean linens and the chefs had to serve an extra dinner and breakfast. Although we were sorry to disappoint the brethren waiting for us at Waterloo Station in London there was nothing we could do. After dinner the Winter Garden was crowded but there was no orchestra. Without asking permission I mounted the platform, took over the microphone, and called for attention. I pointed out what an extraordinary opportunity this was to become acquainted and to hold an open forum on world conditions. We had people present from many nations, we had just seen the end of a disastrous World War, and I felt we should quit talking about our own temporary inconvenience and discuss openly our divergent views of world problems.

I suggested we stay on each subject exactly one hour and allow any man or woman to speak. We discussed marriage and divorce, then family responsibility and authority, and last of all the changes taking place in moral and ethical values. I adjourned the meeting at midnight over the shouted protests of many who wanted to continue. It was interesting to see how quickly order had developed out of chaos. The meeting was made to order for me. As the self-appointed chairman I injected the teaching of the Bible into the discussion at the end of every speech. If anyone asked a question of the chair, I answered it with the words, "Of course, the Bible says..."

The next morning we abandoned ship at 9:00 o'clock, and exactly an hour later the boat train pulled out for London. Immediately evident were the signs of the bombing raids made on this great harbor city. Whole blocks were wiped out. Fire-gutted buildings were everywhere. Our train arrived in London promptly at noon. We stepped into a new world. At home we always "checked our baggage" but in London we "registered our luggage." The station was huge and there were several large restaurants. We chose one and ordered our luncheon. It consisted of pork and peas cooked together, mashed potatoes, spinach, roast potatoes, and coffee. If that sounds like a lot of potatoes, it is because this was one of the few items not rationed.

After we had eaten we boarded a taxi and went madly dashing down the wrong side of the street toward the friendly home of Brother R. B. Scott.