Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto

In the Beginning …

Reverend F. Danford Lion
April 15, 2007
Palo Alto, CA

Is there anyone here who was present 60 years ago on Easter Sunday? Is there anyone who was present 57 1/2 years ago when Eva and I first appeared? Who can remember September 1975, when we moved into our new home? Not many, for that is already nearly 35 years ago, more than half your existence as a church, during which time you’ve had 2 long pastorates and are well into a third, all interspersed with interims designed to break up old habits and connections.

Sometimes, but rarely, a church and minister enjoy a perfect fit. It’s easier when the church is small and hasn’t much sense of history, or when the minister is young and pliable and the church has centuries of history behind it, so that one party is noticeably dominant. Before coming to Palo Alto I had experience in a number of UU Churches, most of them well-settled and rarely inclined to depart from habitual routines; but I took care not to let you know how difficult it normally is to move a church from set patterns. Not knowing any better we soon were trying something new almost every week. Little changes, big changes — almost every change brought a 10% gain. Change the time of service — attendance up 10%. Refuse signing the Loyalty Oath — attendance up 15%. Hold forum on recognizing Red China (then a dangerous topic) — attendance up 20%. Go on to double services &mdash attendance up another 20%. All we needed was an excellent publicist to get the word out, which we had in Natalye Hall, and we were rolling.

Those post World War II years were a great time to be a minister, particularly in California, particularly in a Unitarian Church. Many military men had spent service time or leave time in California. Jobs were opening up there and many communities looked more interesting than home towns in Kansas or Ohio. Young women, too, were ready to go West. Here was opportunity to get out from under family oversight, to try a new church perhaps more compatible than that in the old home town. Bright young scientists and their children wanted fresh answers. Stanford freshmen who had to take a course in the History of Western Civilization found that the familiar Bible story didn’t measure up. McCarthyism was running rampant in many sectors of American public life, and it was easy and natural for Unitarians to raise a standard to which the democratic and just could repair.

In 1952 the California Legislature ordered all churches, and most similar groups as well, to sign a loyalty oath that they would not try to overthrow the State of California by force and violence. This oath had to be signed by a certain time else the church must pay a tax. Since at that early time we owned no property, the tax in our case amounted to only a corporation tax of $25; it was moved and seconded that we refuse to sign the Oath and pay the money. Up popped Sylvan Rubin with a counter proposal: that we do the Christian Sermon-on-the-Mount, turn-the-other-cheek thing and send double, “thus no doubt messing up the State bookkeeping system for years.” I felt we should have done just that. We actually did pay the $25 for 4 or 5 years until the State of California Supreme Court, in a case brought by our neighbor, First Unitarian Church of San Jose, found the Loyalty Oath unconstitutional. Our payments were returned with 8% interest. Meanwhile we twice had front page major articles in the Palo Alto Times.

A public forum regarding the recognition of Red China brought us excellent pre-meeting publicity beforehand and even better after when 8 or 9 Christian-rightists started to break up our meeting even though there were several clearly marked police cars on the grounds, which quickly carted them off to jail. We were part of the culture of our times, impatient with the way the world was creeping along. In 1970 some of us were surprised to discover that our own youth no more wanted to be “folded, stapled or mutilated” than we. Hence Lothlorien alternative high school was started and served the area well. One of my favorite definitions of a church is that of Josiah Royce. Church: “a beloved community of memory and hope.” We liked each other and enjoyed working together. We were faced with many challenges, some of them quite severe, but still we managed to deal with them. We had able and devoted and creative members, and we were not burdened with much history, so we tackled each problem with fresh attention. No problem was ever insoluble to Major Todd, nor to Bob and Rowena Hasrrison. Natalye Hall worked day and night to get us excellent publicity. Often, I fear, she also distributed chocolates and cigars in news rooms.

Doris Jacobsen knew her way around campus. Mildred Corcoran Justesen knew City Hall. Opal Ralston and Frank Hawkes knew money and seemed to make it multiply. Col. Luke always kept us focussed on the problems at hand, as did Clyde Cook, especially when chairing forums. Colby Howe had bankers competing for the privilege of lending us building funds. Don Borthwick, working with architect Joe Escherik, got the most possible space for our $90,000 and many worked to paint and pipe and plant. Other names must be mentioned: Evalyn Borthwick kept us dancing and camping. Timmie and DIck Allen kept us laughing and singing, and she called together and led our choir. Religious Education and Sunday School families included Paul & Jinny Reinhardt, Sam & Joan Untermyer. Milt & Olive Silverstein, Lee & Elizabeth Winder, Glenn & Kitty Taylor, Elton & Rae Bell, Bill & Peg Capron, Bill & Lee Perry, Dave & Mary Lewis. Emmy Van Patton, Joe & Patsy Whitely, Scotchy Henderson, Calvin & Misao Sakamoto, Stacey & Helen French, Frank & Gail Hamaker. And there were people who raised money, and ran rummage sales, and created art and talked and taught and danced and baked and entertained and advised, among them Alfred S. Niles & Lydek Jacobsen & Harold Kay & Mrs. Fortenbaugh & Adelaide Hawkes & Adeline Sedgeley & Robert Collyer. While ours has always been largely a church of volunteers, I feel myself particularly fortunate to have enjoyed, from 1954, the part-time secretarial help of Muriel Nevin, and, from the time in 1957 when we moved into the new building, when June Ida came to run the office.

From the first we were a missionary church. At our beginning the San Jose Unitarians had lent us their minister, so it seemed only fitting that soon I was going Sunday evenings to San Mateo to help them get going. Then, soon after we had our own building, we we found that those living to the north wanted to start their own group in Redwood City. Soon after that we had another offspring to the south in Sunnyvale. Sometimes I worried that my outspokenness against the Korean War and more outspokenly against the war in Viet Nam might hurt the Unitarian Cause on the Peninsula and Silicon Valley, but I look back now and think it all worked out okay. Thank you for some of the best years of my life.

Felix Danford Lion

 

Closing Words: Wishes and Hopes for the Future by the Red Class (preschool–Kindergarten)