Omaha
PART TWO
EDITORIAL
PAGES OXE TO FOURTEEN
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unday
PART TWO
SOCIETY
PAGES ONE TO FOURTEEN
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VOL. XLVXO. 17.
OMAHA, SUNDAY MOKXIXG, OCTOHKK 10, UU 5.
S1XOLE COPY F1VK CENTS.
to the Out
How
Looks
How the "Billy" Sunday Campaign in Omaha Strikes the Man Who Takes
a Bird's-Eye View Without Getting Into It Will Interest Our Readers.
A Week Ago, the Kansas City Star Sent A. B. McDonald
of Its Staff to Size up the Tabernacle Doings, and Here
is the Story that He Turned Into His Paper:
A GOOD many book9, and thousands of col
umns and pages in newspapers and mag
azines have been written about' "Billy"
Sunday, and one may read it all and then
fall to have a true impression of him.
To get that you must see him at work, and sit
uuder the spell of his cyclonic preaching.
The one outstanding impression he gives is that
he is sincere, that he believes himself consecrated
by God to carry on the work he is doing; that he
la "God's man," with a message for mankind, drlfW
ing away from God. You hear him preach and you
know for a surety that "Billy" Sunday "knows"
that he has been commissioned of God to go out
into the highways and byways and shout to hu
manity. "Stop! Stop! You're on the way to hell."
No one who hears "Billy" Sunday doubts hft
sincerity. People who scoff at religion, and at the
personal devil and the brimstone hell preached by
Billy" Sunday, admit that he believes it.
"He's sincere, all right; he believes it," they say.
He calls himself "God's messenger." When he
lays he talks with God as you would talk with
a very dear friend; no "theeing" nor tboulng."
Those "Billy" Sunday Prayers
Those prayers.
At first they shocked the church-going people
(.1' Omaha, but they made a great hit with the un
churched throng. It suited them. If Jesus was a
nan's best friend, and had saved him from death
and bell, why shouldn't he talk with him inform
illy? And now all Omaha delights in "Billy's"
prayers.
- He has been preaching for nearly an hour, the
wcat spattering from his face and neck like drops
if water from the back of a wet dog when he shakes
himself. His clothing 1b soaked, wet as a rag held
under a pump nozzle. He has been on top of the
,ulplt and down again, on a chair and off again a
half-doeen times. He has thrown himself prone,
and leaped up again, agile as a cat. He has raced
snd whirled and leaped and gyrated, and shouted.
I own in the great audience women are sobbing
. ftly, and you see a man here -and there. lift a
Land and brush the tears from his eyes, and as
ycu peer from the platform down into' that level
loa of JO, 000 faces under the glaring electric lights
the expression and the attitude of each is the same,
"he 10.000 faces seem to merge into one great
tae, and one great pair of eyes fastened upon the
preacher, solemnly listening, filled with tense mo
tion, hanging upon each word.
And suddenly, without a pause, "Billy" shuts
liia eyes and says:
"Well, Jesus, when I came here tonight I didn't
know whether I'd be able to pull through or not.
" his cold I caught in Lincoln, Jesus, it's bothering
r.e some. But you helped me, dear Lord, just like
you always have. You never failed me yet.
"Help old Omaha, God, throw your arms around
her, Lord, and help her. Go into the barber shops,
Lord, into the court house and city hall, Into hotels
and stores, factories and saloons, Lord. Help the
down-and-out, Lord. Help the man in the street,
the floater and drunkard. He's on the ropes, and
groggy. Lord. The devil has him almost out; one
more stiff uppercut would finish him. Help him,
Lord, to square his shoulders, raise his dukes and
cry: 'Come on, old devil, there's one more good
punch in me yet.'
"Bllly'i rolce trembles with feeling. He leans
oer, his eyes still shut tight, his wet face gleaming
' i the electric light, and slaps the side of his pine
desk with the flat of his hand, and he shouts:
But No One Laughs
"Help me, oh Jesus, help me to save all in
Cmaha that are rushing pell-mell to hell so fast
you can't see them for the dust."
No one laughs. It does not sound irreverant.
Not when "Billy" Sunday says it. There is a
woleran hush on the great audience.
"Help me, Lord, and give me strength to do
our work. And you know, Lord, that as long as
I can stand on two feet, and as long as I have voice
enough to be heard, I'm going to do your work, and
hen you see fit to call: 'Three strikes and out,
P1I, go to bed,' I'll keep at it.
"Help me, Lord, to make the people see the
remaphore of danger. Help them to hear me cry
ing: Stop! Stop!! Stop!!! Help us all."
Suddenly his tone changes to one of defiance.
"Say, you old devil! You old reprobate! Haven't
jru done enough harm? Aren't you satisfied?
You've had your heel on the' neck of Omaha for
many years, you've sent tbpusands to drunkards'
t raves. You miserable whelp, you've sent young
r.ien to hell, to the penitentiary dawn here at Lin
i iln; young women to bell. Aren't you ready to
s:op?" This at the top of his voice.
"With the help of God and the church, I defy
you. I am going to lick you, right here in Omaha.
I'm going to whip you to a frazzle,' with the help
of the Lord, hallelujah."
It may read Irreverent in cold type. But not
from the lips of "Billy" Sunday.'
'Heart to Heart" with God
One night he finished preaching and then shut
ii.-s eyes and prayed:
"Well, Jesus, I don't know if there's any need
of me saying any more tonight. I've tried as well
o I could to point the way " and so on.
Another time he prays:
"I wonder. Lord, that you're so patient. Lord,
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.
1 try to preach the truth the best I know how.
tiy to do what you want me to. You Just give me.
tiie strength, Lord, and lead me, that's what I want,
lead me, and I'll follow you Into a graveyard. I'll
crawl into my coffin when you give me the word,
Lord. Anywhere you lead me." "
One night there was a great delegation of Union
1 aclfic men at the meeting and, when Sunday came
to pray he said:
"Lord, you bless Charlie Ware for sending all
Ihese men up here from the Union Pacific shops.
1 don't know, Lord, whether Charlie Is a Christian
or not, but his heart's in the right place, and If
he Isn't a Christian he ought to be."
Suddenly he turns to where Homer Rodeheaver,
lila singer, is sitting, and says: "
" 'Rody, you send a season pass to Charlie Ware,
bring him up here and let him hear a message from
God. Dp that tomorrow, 'Rody. And Bow, Lord,
1 11 think better of the Union Pacific. I used to
think of It only asa two-track road going out here
a ways and then branching off. Now I'll always
think of it as a flesh-and-blood road because of
this gathering of Union Pacific men here tonight."
'Billy" Sunday's Acrobatics
A good deal has been written about "Billy"
funday's acrobatics. Many have said he affects all
that. He is never still one moment while he Is
I leaching. His platform Is fifteen feet long and
eight or ten feet wide, covered with green carpet.
Ju the middle of the front edge is a plno box that
serves as a desk. But it and the platforms are
doubly re-enforced with braces and stays. If they
eren't, "Billy" would knock and stamp and shake
them down.
His knuckles and the palms of hib hands art
: Y---V.: .
"
JO: , : : V
i
Photo for
The Bee
by Our Own
Staff Artist
, energy and fire, because his soul U on fire and his
face Is aglow with it, and every fiber of his, being
is quivering. He had to leap up there to give vent'
.to' his exploding energy. '
And there's nothing irreverent In all of that,
either, for Sunday Is an athlete, muscled like
vild cat, graceful as an antelope, and bis leaps and
bounds, Ms 'lyings down and gettlngs up seem to
fit into the argument as needfully as do the words.
n'hey simply emphasize.
covered with thick callouses from pounding and
thumping that pine desk. It resounds like a sound
ing board with the whacks he gives it. Once in
a while he leans over and slaps the side of it with
his palm. You wonder he doesn't break the bones
i f his hand. v
The people of Omaha have been wondering for
tnree weeks when he is going to lose his balance
and fall from the platform. He rushes at it, slides
three feet across the carpet, brings up on the edge,
leans over it, one leg behind him In the air, and
you feel sure he is gone. But he never falls. He
"What did Farmer Burns have to say, Mr. Sun
day?" one of his party asked.
, "Billy" sprang to his feet, all animation. His
face lighted up as 'he began to tell how Farmer
Turns had showed him the way he trained Gotch.
"8ay," says "Billy," "that roan Burns is a won
der. He showed me the toe hold, like this, the
thmmerock. He taught Gotch to use his
w hen be wrestled."
A Past Master at Slang
And so with his slang that so much has been
vrltten about, you listen to a sermon in rapt at
tention, catching his enthusiast keyed up to an
Intense pitch, leaning forward, watching every
Move hearing every word, your heart beating
faster, gasping for breath, swallowing back that
lump that rises in your throat, sneaklngly wiping
the tears from your eyes so no one will see them,
and w hen It is all over you don't remember to have
head J eard any slang. ' ;
You do know that what he said was all true.
And be went on telling all about it, crouching every word of it, and1 that he put it up to you In
is Gotch crouched, pounding the table, lying down a way you understood. You caught yourself nudg
on his back to show how Gotch put Hackenschmidt lug your neighbor and saying:
,-)s.
gyrates, spina like a top, leaps, stamps, his arms o the m.at.
Mblrl, the cords of his neck stand out like hard
tralded whip thongs, his face purples, the sweat
r ins down, he shucks his coat and flings it far from
him, and all the time he is talking rapidly, the
words coming like volleys from a machine gun.
He Is Never Quiet
And many have said this was acting, all "put
tn" for effect, all carefully studied out and re
Ifarsed, as an actor rehearses his part.
That was "Billy" Sunday natural, not posing,
and he actea Just as he does on the platform. When
he is earnest be talks with his hands, his feet, his
arms. Kvery muscle in his body talke in unison
with his voice. You condemn "Billy" Sunday to
stand still at a desk and talk and he could not talk
at all. " When he shouts:
"If I had my way about it I'd burn every pack
of cards and every drop of whisky In bell before
"Isn't It the truth?"
And yet, when you read the sermon In the
I aper next morning, some parts seem a little slangy.
For instance, when he Is defying the vice element
of Omaha:
"Come on, you forces of hell. Come, you hog
Jowlcd, weasel-eyed, peanut-brained gang of In
futnous thugs. Come on. you sponsors of harlotry.
Come on, you black-hearted liars, come on."
But when you heard It you were not shocked;
nut at all; it was fitting to be said, and all true and
midnight." he has to leaD upon bis desk. and.
One afternoon I went Into his room to see him. ho alights there squarely upon both feet, be has to applicable, and you were clad h aM it.
Farmer" Burns, an old wrestler who trained Hwing his right arm and sink his clenched right fist You know, after you have heard him, that he
Frank Gotch, the world'a champion, had Just left, into the palm of bis left, the very symbol of living can't preach any other way. It'a natural. His
A-
eccentricities are "Billy Sundayisms." And so they
all fit in, and are pleasing.
He is talking about the evil Influence of bad
ctropany and he leaps to a chair, puts his open
palms each sido of bis mouth, forming a maga
fhone, and shouts: '
"If you turn a polecat loose in a parlor yon
know which will change first, the polecat or the
parlor," and It doesn't sound out of place. It is
good, sensible argument, and It goes home to the
hearts of that vast audience like a rip-hammer
Mow on red-hot iron. They get hts meaning like
a ball hot off the bat right Into t'aa lianda of the.
uaa on first
