Martha Ruth, Preacher's Daughter: Her Journey Through Religion, Sex and Love

By Marti Eicholz

This is the story of a child born into a conservative fundamentalist preacher's family in Indiana.

Her journey through thirty tumultuous years was:
*within the strict regulations of the church community
*within the confines of a love-starved home
*within an unbelievable marriage

During the journey, she:
*moved quickly through school, graduating and becoming a teacher at age 19
*became a leader in the educational community
*found the true love she had sought and been denied for so long

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456625764

Book preview

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INTRODUCTION

World War I had ended.

This was a great time to live in Indiana and to call yourself a Hoosier.

But nothing stays the same, and all was about to change for Indiana.

The stock market crashed in 1929, leading to the Great Depression.

Unemployment and poverty became things everyone shared.

Clifford and Imogene Hertel moved with their children from Ohio to Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Children: Mildred, James, Dale, and Velma.

Clifford could get off the farm. He got a job on the railroad. Imogene found work in the big city, cooking and baking for local restaurants. It was important that their family connect with the Society of Friends for spiritual growth. Their message declared that salvation is a personal matter between the individual and God. No human mediator or outward ordinance is necessary to encounter the Living God. They championed nonviolence, social justice, and simplicity of living.

James William was the second child of Clifford and Imogene. James was an active child, selling newspapers on the street corners, showing leadership skills in school and after-school activities, and winning academic awards; and as a young man, he delved into his spiritual side, participating actively in the Friends Movement.

Leaning toward religious pursuits, he was a natural for the nearby academy started by the Society of Friends to educate young people in a Christian atmosphere. In May 1911, William M. Smith founded the Westfield Union Bible Seminary. The mission was to train men and women in the Word of God. They believed that God created every person to fulfill a unique ministry, and the academy and the seminary were to provide the knowledge and experiences to find and prepare for that ministry. James enrolled at the Westfield Union Bible Seminary to study for the ministry.

Olas and Edna Doll Hine lived in Lebanon, Indiana.

They had four children: Robert, Martha, Juanita, and Barbara.

Martha’s intention and desire were to become a nurse, but her father thought such a profession was not worthy of her religious, high-standard, moral upbringing. The Hine family was part of the revival of scriptural holiness that had swept across various denominations.

The Hine family was instrumental in building the Lebanon, Indiana, church.

It was decided that Martha would attend the Union Bible Seminary at Westfield, Indiana, to prepare for God’s work.

James and Martha met at Westfield.

Martha knew at first sight that James was the man she wished to marry. One day, he saved a seat for her in one of their classes, and that is all it took for them to become a couple.

LEBANON—THE BEGINNING

James and Martha married on June 5, 1937.

After their wedding, James hitched a house trailer to his vehicle, and they started married life on the road preaching the Gospel. Martha’s accordion and James’s guitar added some musical numbers to their ministry.

Martha soon became anxious and frightened about her new world and the uncertainty of it all: not knowing where the next meeting would be, not knowing how much money they would receive, travel time between engagements, meeting and greeting new people, and not having a friend, supporter, helper, guide, or confidant—only James. James was busy preparing sermons, soliciting meetings, and trying to keep the car and trailer running. And she missed her sisters, Juanita and Barbara, and her new sister-in-law, Margaret.

Martha felt alone. Even though she attended services every night sharing the Good News of God’s salvation powers, that didn’t seem to satisfy her. Then, Martha started doing a lot of spitting; and on a visit to her parents, her mother said, Martha, quit spitting! People will think you are pregnant. Well, she was. It was not easy being on the road, and Martha’s anxieties grew. James and Martha arranged their schedule to be with Martha’s parents, Olas and Doll Hine, in Lebanon, Indiana, for Thanksgiving in 1939. Martha stayed with her parents until the birth. James continued his ministry. Lebanon had a good hospital. She was in a familiar environment with family and good support. It was not an easy pregnancy nor an easy birth. On December 10, 1939, their daughter came into the world after forceps were used to grasp, manipulate, and extract her, leaving her head brutally bruised. James was in Terre Haute, Indiana, but he rushed to Martha’s side. It is said this was the only service he ever canceled or didn’t show up for throughout his lengthy career.

James named their daughter Martha Ruth. Martha was wishing for Sharon Rose. Thinking about baby names, do we give enough time, research, and thought? Are they good-sounding ones, or do they remind us of someone in the family, or are we giving a toast in honor and recognition of a loved one? It was interesting that James, being a student and scholar of the Bible, would name his newborn Martha.

In the Bible, when Jesus visited the home of Mary and Martha, Martha was cumbered about many things. Mary sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he had to say. Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.

Martha even came to the Lord and asked, Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work for myself? Tell her to help me!

Martha, Martha, the Lord answered, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken from her. Martha was more practical than spiritual. She was known for her obsession with housework.

The Biblical meaning of the name Martha is bitter. Ruth was the one in the Bible story who said, Whither thou goest I will go. No matter where? I find it interesting. Ruth was known to be virtuous, loyal, and faithful. She left her family, her gods, and her nationality and traveled to a new land she had never seen and where she knew no one.

As the story unfolds, maybe the balance of the two names together will work.

This is Martha Ruth.

I am Martha Ruth.

This is my story.

Grandmother Hine took good care of me and my mother.

Grandfather Hine stated that when he saw his first grandchild, I smiled and let him know that I was ready to get going.

The three of us were back on the road.

Within a few months, I was walking and starting a stir. My dad’s mother, Imogene, would visit and give my parents a breather. Grandmother Hertel encouraged me to express myself. She would read to me. We giggled together.

Grandmother gave me license to explore my surroundings, even if that meant tossing all the contents of the drawers onto the floor. I learned early on that it was fun having Grandma Hertel around. I was experiencing my first taste of being free, the freedom to be myself completely.

One evening, during my father’s sermon, I decided I wanted to have some fun, just like I did with Grandma. I stood up in the pew, looked around, giggled, and started acting out with some parishioners in the congregation. My father did not stop a beat with his sermon, but he came out of the pulpit and gave me a couple of whacks on the behind and continued. The fun stopped.

I was an active child, so my parents decided to place a leather leash on my wrist to keep me close to them. This was somewhat of a problem: Whether I jerked away or my parents were pulling on the leash, my wrists would frequently pop out of joint. In adulthood, I still show signs of disjointed wrists.

It was tough on the road from one engagement to another with services every night and very little money plus an active little one. The car and the trailer were aging, and the wear and tear on body and soul was a challenge.

My parents made a decision to seek ordination by the Pilgrim Holiness Church. My mother’s family were members and supporters of this denomination. My father had the proper credentials, excellent academic accomplishments, experience, and solid recommendations. He passed all the tests and interviews. He became an ordained minister in good standing for the Pilgrim Holiness Church.

ELNORA and EPSOM

Martha Ruth age 2

My father was appointed pastor of the twin churches of Elnora and Epsom in the southwestern part of Indiana. The topography of southern Indiana is varied and complex, with large tracts of forest, rolling fields, sharp hills, and flat valleys. Southern Indiana has a number of small, quaint, charming towns. Every county is bordered by a river. Streams and creeks are abundant. The village of Elnora sprang into existence with the completion, in 1885, of the Evansville & Indianapolis Railroad. It promised to become an important point for the buying and shipping of corn, wheat, and other farm products. There was a post office, stores, an ice house, a school, and the church. Epsom had a half-dozen dwellings, stores, a post office, and a schoolhouse. It was given its name because the water from a well in the hamlet was thought to resemble the famous Epsom salt in taste.

Each village had a church, and they needed to share a minister. We lived in Elnora. Our house was small, with an outhouse (outside toilet), a small garage, a side garden, and train tracks that angled from the back of the house toward the side. We were in a community, settled in one place and ready to start a new way of life. I don’t remember anything about the churches or their members, but I do remember my dad taking a side job working on the railroad. Mom would pack his lunch in a black metal lunch box. Dad would not eat all of his lunch; he would save something for me. So when he returned from work, I would sit on his knee, and we would share his last bites. The trains were close to the house, and the noise frightened me to the point that I would run and hide under my dad’s desk until they passed.

On my birthday, I received a velvet coat and hat, which I would wear on our holiday visit to my grandparents—first the Hine family, then Grandfather and Grandmother Hertel.

Allergies developed. Summer arrived, and so did a runny nose and sneezing. This condition would come and go. Then, after a bout of runny nose and sneezing, a little cough started, then fever, followed by weeks of severe coughing fits. Diagnosis: whooping cough, a highly contagious bacterial disease. One hundred days of coughing. At times, the cough caused exhaustion, and other times I wanted to see some sun and the outdoors, and not confinement. So I opened the door, looked out, and BANG, on came a cough. I was told that I had given whooping cough to the entire neighborhood. Had I? Who really knows? But it weighed heavily on me.

Playmates were practically nonexistent. The children next door were forbidden. They were poor and dirty, and their father was dying of cancer. I thought, so what? They needed a friend. I needed a friend. Occasionally, we met in the side yard and made mud pies, talked, and giggled.

My mother developed a friendship with the lady across the street. They would sit in her backyard and chat. I realized my mother needed more than me and my dad, and my dad was not around much.

There were times when the three of us were shopping, visiting, or at church, and my parents thought that I was being naughty and deserved a spanking when we got home. They would announce, When we get you home, you are going to get a spanking. I did not want the agony of waiting, so I would turn, flip my skirt up, bend over, and state, Give it to me now. Let’s get this over with and move on.

I don’t remember the two of us, my mother and me, doing much together. In other words, I don’t remember walks, talks, reading, touching, holding, or the kinds of things I would want for my baby, who is now a toddler.

I do remember the three of us returning home from visiting a parishioner’s home. We called these visitations or making calls. I was in the backseat of the car leaning against the car door while tying my shoelaces. My dad swung around a corner, the door flew open, and out I tumbled. Seeing them heading down the road, I started jumping up and down yelling for their return. The resident on the corner brought a wash basin with warm, soapy water out to the porch, and my mother patted my dirty, scared face, arms, and legs.

On another visitation, the house was perched on a high hill. The view of the green valley in the distance was stunning. As I stood gazing at the beauty of it all, a huge dog jumped on me, knocked me to the ground, and licked my face. I screamed out of fright and stomped around stating, I don’t like dogs, and I don’t like cats. I didn’t like the rush, the attack, and the feeling of being afraid. I was scared. Loud noises, yelling words, and aggressive animals alarmed me.

On special occasions, we would have homemade ice cream made using ice and salt and by churning the creamy mixture with a crank. It was a hot summer day, and I thought ice cream would taste so good. So let’s have a surprise—my very first time trying to surprise and hopefully please or delight someone, or at least just have some fun. Pulling my red wagon, I headed across the railroad tracks and up the slope to the ice house and asked the guys for a block of ice. I had no money, but somehow they gave me the ice. A real con job! With ice in tow, I headed home proud and happy; but my mother became hysterical, shouting, How could you do this? How are we going to pay? It’s melting! There were no preparations for making ice cream. I don’t recall the outcome. Truthfully, I am glad I don’t. I do remember thinking we were poor, just like the kids next door.

One afternoon, we were expecting one of the couples from the church to go to some dress-up event.

I was excited, dressed in my finest, and wearing my new white shoes. My mother made all my clothes, and they were special. While we were waiting, I strolled out to the side garden and for some reason decided to walk through it, only to get stuck in the mud up to above my ankles. I could not move. As I stood there, I saw our friend’s truck coming down the street. I waved and yelled to be rescued. The next thing I knew, I was being stripped of my clothes, washed up, and put to bed. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed. All I had wanted was to have some fun, but now I wanted to hide; so I put the covers over my head and cried myself to sleep.

The time had come for Elnora to receive telephone service. The streets were filled with workmen, trucks, poles, wires, and ladders. The workmen dug holes, pounded poles into the ground, pulled and extended the wiring, and attached the wires to the house. The rectangular, wooden structure called a telephone was attached to the inside wall of the kitchen.