This section of our web site honors the history of Unitarians and Universalists in the MidAmerica Region.
Here you will find a series of History Vignettes written by members of the History and Heritage Committee and other contributors. New vignettes will appear several times a year.
If you have a story to suggest, please contact Victor Urbanowicz at firstname.lastname@example.org.
On a Sunday in April 2008, I attended the service at the First Unitarian Church of Orlando, Florida, wondering if this was the congregation founded in 1912 by Eleanor Gordon (1852-1942), co-leader with Mary Safford of the Iowa Sisterhood. I did not wonder long. In a chronological display of portraits of the congregation’s ministers, Eleanor Gordon’s was the first.
The portrait could easily have been Mary Safford’s. In 1912 both women were in Orlando, not planning to start new churches at their stage of life, when friends who had moved there from Iowa asked Gordon to organize a church in town. Gordon suggested Safford as the minister, but Safford declined, being occupied with her retirement project of growing citrus, and yielded the field to Gordon.
By 1860, the vigorous growth of Universalist churches in the Midwest was slowing; congregations in the region experienced stability at best, decline at worst. Over the next century this did not improve, and the 1961 merger was sometimes seen as a matter of thriving Unitarians offering shelter to faltering Universalists.
One congregation did not follow that pattern. Today, of the eleven Unitarian Universalist congregations of the Minneapolis-St. Paul area, First Universalist is the largest, with 951 members. From its founding meeting in October 1859, chaired by flour milling magnate William Drew Washburn, First Universalist has been for most of its existence a robust congregation and an effective force for progressive social values.
Like Washburn, other early members guided development of the region and helped found Minneapolis institutions such as the public library and school systems, the parks, the fire department, the Institute of Arts, Lakewood Cemetery, and the first settlement house. Thomas Lowry created the city’s street railway system. Dorilus Morrison was first mayor of Minneapolis, first editor of the Tribune, developer of St. Anthony Falls for water power and transportation, and a lumber and flour mill magnate. Flour mill entrepreneurs like the Crosbys and Pillsburys were also early members.
Editor’s note: After I posted the piece by Patrick Murfin, Judy Thornber, who had first told me about Preston Bradley, thought that another perspective was needed. Why have two entries on Bradley? One of the few ministers in our tradition who drew a mass following, he warrants more research for that reason alone. In the Dictionary of UU Biography, the entry on Bradley is empty and has not been assigned. Perhaps this second vignette will prod someone to fill that entry.
|Mural by Louis Grell in the sanctuary of Peoples Church|
As a true admirer who heard Preston Bradley on the radio and in person at his church, I saw no sign of megachurch techniques. Bradley did not “orate.” He spoke in a personal, conversational way, revealing his own feelings and thoughts and his high aspirations for what people could do. He acknowledged that times were difficult and many people had enormous problems. It was, after all, the Depression. He did his best to provide hope to his following, without mention of God or Jesus, and to engage in citywide social action with various civic organizations. This man was not an Elmer Gantry type egoist. He was passionate about empathy and support for those with troubles, but not in a "theatrical" way. His true genius was that he simply talked directly to his congregation, both on the radio and in the church, as if they were intelligent people who wanted to lead good lives. He tried to encourage them and keep their hope alive.
Since few of today’s UU ministers can grow membership the way Bradley did, we should seriously study his sermons to understand why they spoke so clearly to people and were so well received by the public. When Bradley spoke, you felt he was speaking to you one on one. He shared himself. He did not pretend to have all the answers. He did preach that hope could be nurtured by persevering and by focusing on leading a good life according to our own best lights.
Where present and past UU preachers have appealed most effectively to the educated and affluent, Bradley uniquely touched the hearts of rich and poor, schooled and unschooled alike. Most of his radio audience and much of the church audience were ordinary folks. The church in its heyday also included many of the rich and notable in Chicago. I was there one morning when Clement Stone, owner of a major insurance company, drove to the church alone in his Cadillac to meet with Bradley on the stage with a special program featuring the Boys Clubs of Chicago, one of Stone's favorite personal charities.
Editor’s note: After learning a little about Preston Bradley, I decided he was a good subject for a vignette. Then I saw the following piece by Patrick Murfin on the Harvard Square Library website. I found it substantial and readable, and reproduce it here with the author’s permission.
By Patrick Murfin
Vintage postcard of Preston Bradley and The Peoples Church of Chicago. Image courtesy of CRCC collection.
No mid-twentieth-century Unitarian minister, save perhaps A. Powell Davies, reached more hearts and minds than did Preston Bradley (1888-1983). Among our contemporaries only Forrest Church — albeit in a more scholarly way — comes even close. Yet outside of Chicago, Bradley has been largely forgotten when he is not scorned.
Years ago, when the list was being compiled for eventual inclusion in the Dictionary of Unitarian Universalist Biography, I noted his name was omitted. Some of our leading scholars — concentrating mostly on either New England-centered Unitarianism or on Universalism — only dimly recognized the name.
Some that are aware of him hardly hold him in high regard. They reflect a deep disdain felt by many of his contemporaries, particularly in the East. Bradley was regarded as something of a huckster, charlatan and egotist — sort of a Unitarian Elmer Gantry. And I suppose it's true as far as it goes. A man of supreme self-confidence with a showman's flair, Bradley took everything he learned at Moody Bible Institute, threw away the conservative dogma, and applied the techniques to liberal religion. Some regard his Peoples Church as the first true megachurch — drawing from a wide geographic area, centered on a charismatic preacher, rich in programming, and availing itself of every modern tool of mass communication available to it. Nothing could have been more shocking to the learned, rational, and subdued ministers back East who presided over cozy white churches on the village green.