Billy Sunday, Some Personal Notes
Title: Billy Sunday, Some Personal Notes
Subject: Billy Sunday
Personal Notes on Evangelist Billy Sunday
Gene L. Jeffries, Th.D.
During my university and seminary days, a friend of mine and I conducted youth revivals in Midwest churches. One of our meetings took us to Ottumwa, Iowa. We were staying with the pastor and his wife in their home, and one night he asked me, "Did you notice that rather distinguished man in the gray suit who was in the meeting tonight?"
"I did indeed," I replied. "Who is he?"
"His name is Albert Peterson," the pastor said. "For fifteen years he was the advance man for the evangelist, Billy Sunday."
I was astounded! For Billy Sunday? In my meeting? "Can we meet him?" I gushed with delight.
"Yes, tomorrow," said the pastor.
The next day we eagerly made our way to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. It was a modest home, but adorned with the memorabilia of Billy Sunday and the days of the "Sawdust Trail" campaigns.
We viewed a chair, the underside of the bottom bearing the signature of "W. A. Sunday." He never referred to himself as "Billy"; that was an assigned designation of others. It was there in the Peterson home that I held in my hands the Scofield Bibles Billy Sunday used in his Chicago and New York City campaign. The Bibles were similar in size, both with black leather covers, and mysteriously blackened pages at Isaiah 62 and 63. For it was upon this page that Mr. Sunday (Mr. Peterson always referred to him as "Mr. Sunday.") placed his sermon notebook. In the heat and over many campaigns, the leather notebook had left its mark on those Scofield Bibles.
"Before every message," Mr. Peterson told us, "Mr. Sunday read to himself the words of Isaiah 61:1 from the King James Version of the Bible":
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound.
Then he commenced to preach with what he perceived to be the All-authoritative backing and power of the passage he had just read. "He was so powerful and preached with such energy," Mr. Peterson said, "that I have literally rung sweat out of his socks."
Preaching like that wears on the throat; thus, when Mr. Sunday''s voice began to tire, he would stand on something -a chair, even the pulpit itself- in order to raise himself to the level of a huge sounding board that amplified his voice. "Never," said Peterson, "did Mr. Sunday engage in antics for antics sake. He was accused of such; but what he did, he did out of practical necessity."
One of the practical necessities to the Billy Sunday was rest. Preaching five times a day with all the fibre of his existence, required great rest. "No one ever dressed and undressed as often as Mr. Sunday," we were told. In fact, Albert Peterson had been schooled in massage techniques which he applied to Mr. Sunday numerous times a day. "''Never stand up when you can sit down,''" Peterson quoted Sunday; "''and never sit down when you can lie down.''" In this, as in all things, Billy Sunday practiced what he preached.
Burdened as he was for the lost, Albert Peterson noticed Billy Sunday weeping as he was giving the evangelist his nightly massage. "Why didn't more of ''em come tonight, Pete?" he asked. "Why, Mr. Sunday," Peterson replied, "more than 500 came forward tonight." "Oh, I know," Sunday replied, "but look at the hundreds who didn''t come! Why didn't more of ''em come?"
Another practical necessity to the "Sawdust Trail" campaigns was scheduling. Many of the campaigns were scheduled just prior to prohibition elections -elections that would decide whether the city or county would allow the sale of liquor. "Old Man Booze," -booze, being a word coined by Billy Sunday-- was the centerpiece of the message on the night before each election. "Mr. Sunday would have a beautiful little girl with long, blond curls with him on the platform," Mr. Peterson told us. He would stroke the curls and ask the crowd, " ''Would you like to see this girl without proper food and clothing?''"
"NO!" was the cry from the congregation.
"Would you like to see her without shoes for her feet and walking in the cold, Iowa snow?"
"NO!" was again the resounding cry from the crowd.
"Then go out tomorrow and vote down ''Old Man Booze!''" Billy Sunday would shout! The crowds left with an enthusiastic motivation to do just that; and Billy Sunday is credited with having closed the doors to the liquor in 13 states.
When Billy Sunday arrived by train for his meeting in Ottumwa, Iowa, the banker met him with his carriage. The local liquor merchants were there as well, Mr. Sunday''s reputation having long preceded him. One of the merchants approached him saying, "So you''re Billy Sunday; and you've come to make Ottumwa dry, have you?"
Sunday was prime for the occasion. He gripped the lapels of his overcoat and said, "Yes, I'm W. A. Sunday, and I''ve got my fightin'' clothes on right now!" Ottumwa voted "dry." The New York City campaign occurred in 1917, during the World War I. Mr. Peterson said, "I personally witnessed the campaign committee hand Mr. Sunday a check for $100,000.00. I saw him turn it over, endorse it, and hand it to an official of the Red Cross."
The fastest man in baseball came to know the LORD through the efforts of a woman at Pacific Garden Mission. Billy Sunday and some of his team mates were sitting on the curbstone across from the mission. A woman walked by the men and said, "Boys, why don't you come over to the mission tonight and hear about your mothers'' Christ?" Without another word, she disappeared from sight. The young men sat in silence for a time; then, Billy said, "Fellas, I don''t know about you, but I'm goin''." Billy Sunday was not saved that night, but he returned; and a woman in the mission led him to faith in Christ. Shortly, thereafter, Billy Sunday hung up his cleats and his glove and picked up the Sword of the LORD -a weapon unlike any other.
At Albert Peterson's request, we all sang hymns that day and prayed before we left. My heart was so full that it was a considerable time before I could even speak. Even now, as I write of what I witnessed nearly 50 years ago, tears fill my eyes and a lump clouds my throat. So close was I to such spiritual greatness! Yet, my muffled joy turns to sorrow when I think of the handkerchief I saw, filled with the tears of the great evangelist himself as he wept for his own children, none of whom ever came to know the Christ, Whom their father so fervently urged men to receive.
What a blessing we received that day! What a blessing our LORD bestowed upon Albert Peterson, allowing him to work so close to Billy Sunday! What a blessing for Billy Sunday, being allowed to minister the Word of God to so many and see one million persons come to faith in Jesus Christ under his ministry! Yet, a still greater blessing for all lies in the near future when Jesus Christ Himself breaks forth from Heaven and returns to call His Church unto Himself! Oh, what a Day that will be.
Gene L. Jeffries, Th.D.
During my university and seminary days, a friend of mine and I conducted youth revivals in Midwest churches. One of our meetings took us to Ottumwa, Iowa. We were staying with the pastor and his wife in their home, and one night he asked me, "Did you notice that rather distinguished man in the gray suit who was in the meeting tonight?"
"I did indeed," I replied. "Who is he?"
"His name is Albert Peterson," the pastor said. "For fifteen years he was the advance man for the evangelist, Billy Sunday."
I was astounded! For Billy Sunday? In my meeting? "Can we meet him?" I gushed with delight.
"Yes, tomorrow," said the pastor.
The next day we eagerly made our way to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. It was a modest home, but adorned with the memorabilia of Billy Sunday and the days of the "Sawdust Trail" campaigns.
We viewed a chair, the underside of the bottom bearing the signature of "W. A. Sunday." He never referred to himself as "Billy"; that was an assigned designation of others. It was there in the Peterson home that I held in my hands the Scofield Bibles Billy Sunday used in his Chicago and New York City campaign. The Bibles were similar in size, both with black leather covers, and mysteriously blackened pages at Isaiah 62 and 63. For it was upon this page that Mr. Sunday (Mr. Peterson always referred to him as "Mr. Sunday.") placed his sermon notebook. In the heat and over many campaigns, the leather notebook had left its mark on those Scofield Bibles.
"Before every message," Mr. Peterson told us, "Mr. Sunday read to himself the words of Isaiah 61:1 from the King James Version of the Bible":
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound.
Then he commenced to preach with what he perceived to be the All-authoritative backing and power of the passage he had just read. "He was so powerful and preached with such energy," Mr. Peterson said, "that I have literally rung sweat out of his socks."
Preaching like that wears on the throat; thus, when Mr. Sunday''s voice began to tire, he would stand on something -a chair, even the pulpit itself- in order to raise himself to the level of a huge sounding board that amplified his voice. "Never," said Peterson, "did Mr. Sunday engage in antics for antics sake. He was accused of such; but what he did, he did out of practical necessity."
One of the practical necessities to the Billy Sunday was rest. Preaching five times a day with all the fibre of his existence, required great rest. "No one ever dressed and undressed as often as Mr. Sunday," we were told. In fact, Albert Peterson had been schooled in massage techniques which he applied to Mr. Sunday numerous times a day. "''Never stand up when you can sit down,''" Peterson quoted Sunday; "''and never sit down when you can lie down.''" In this, as in all things, Billy Sunday practiced what he preached.
Burdened as he was for the lost, Albert Peterson noticed Billy Sunday weeping as he was giving the evangelist his nightly massage. "Why didn't more of ''em come tonight, Pete?" he asked. "Why, Mr. Sunday," Peterson replied, "more than 500 came forward tonight." "Oh, I know," Sunday replied, "but look at the hundreds who didn''t come! Why didn't more of ''em come?"
Another practical necessity to the "Sawdust Trail" campaigns was scheduling. Many of the campaigns were scheduled just prior to prohibition elections -elections that would decide whether the city or county would allow the sale of liquor. "Old Man Booze," -booze, being a word coined by Billy Sunday-- was the centerpiece of the message on the night before each election. "Mr. Sunday would have a beautiful little girl with long, blond curls with him on the platform," Mr. Peterson told us. He would stroke the curls and ask the crowd, " ''Would you like to see this girl without proper food and clothing?''"
"NO!" was the cry from the congregation.
"Would you like to see her without shoes for her feet and walking in the cold, Iowa snow?"
"NO!" was again the resounding cry from the crowd.
"Then go out tomorrow and vote down ''Old Man Booze!''" Billy Sunday would shout! The crowds left with an enthusiastic motivation to do just that; and Billy Sunday is credited with having closed the doors to the liquor in 13 states.
When Billy Sunday arrived by train for his meeting in Ottumwa, Iowa, the banker met him with his carriage. The local liquor merchants were there as well, Mr. Sunday''s reputation having long preceded him. One of the merchants approached him saying, "So you''re Billy Sunday; and you've come to make Ottumwa dry, have you?"
Sunday was prime for the occasion. He gripped the lapels of his overcoat and said, "Yes, I'm W. A. Sunday, and I''ve got my fightin'' clothes on right now!" Ottumwa voted "dry." The New York City campaign occurred in 1917, during the World War I. Mr. Peterson said, "I personally witnessed the campaign committee hand Mr. Sunday a check for $100,000.00. I saw him turn it over, endorse it, and hand it to an official of the Red Cross."
The fastest man in baseball came to know the LORD through the efforts of a woman at Pacific Garden Mission. Billy Sunday and some of his team mates were sitting on the curbstone across from the mission. A woman walked by the men and said, "Boys, why don't you come over to the mission tonight and hear about your mothers'' Christ?" Without another word, she disappeared from sight. The young men sat in silence for a time; then, Billy said, "Fellas, I don''t know about you, but I'm goin''." Billy Sunday was not saved that night, but he returned; and a woman in the mission led him to faith in Christ. Shortly, thereafter, Billy Sunday hung up his cleats and his glove and picked up the Sword of the LORD -a weapon unlike any other.
At Albert Peterson's request, we all sang hymns that day and prayed before we left. My heart was so full that it was a considerable time before I could even speak. Even now, as I write of what I witnessed nearly 50 years ago, tears fill my eyes and a lump clouds my throat. So close was I to such spiritual greatness! Yet, my muffled joy turns to sorrow when I think of the handkerchief I saw, filled with the tears of the great evangelist himself as he wept for his own children, none of whom ever came to know the Christ, Whom their father so fervently urged men to receive.
What a blessing we received that day! What a blessing our LORD bestowed upon Albert Peterson, allowing him to work so close to Billy Sunday! What a blessing for Billy Sunday, being allowed to minister the Word of God to so many and see one million persons come to faith in Jesus Christ under his ministry! Yet, a still greater blessing for all lies in the near future when Jesus Christ Himself breaks forth from Heaven and returns to call His Church unto Himself! Oh, what a Day that will be.
