The Eras of His Way: An Odyssey of Grit and Grace
By Joe Noland
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About this ebook
Spanning two centuries, a whimsical, era-filled romp through the enigmatic world of The Salvation Army. If you are a Salvationist (Salvation Army member), it should resonate with you on many levels, maybe an eye-opener here and there, and an entertaining chuckle or two along the way. If you are a non Salvationist, stereotypically inclined, i.e., 'Guys and Dolls', you are certain to find an enlightening nugget or two: 'I didn't know that?' (Ever wonder what's behind those bonnets. Tambourines and ring-a-ding-ding red Christmas kettles?). Whoever, whomever, spontaneity, suspense and curiosity will keep you turning the pages, hopefully. After all, the surprise is always found in the ending, isn't it? Right up until the final sentence!
Joe Noland
Joe’s ministry can be summed up in three words: Chaos, Creativity and Controversy - three elements implicit in any successful innovative endeavor. Cecil B. DeMille, renowned producer of Biblical epics, once wrote, “Creativity is a drug I cannot live without.” Joe’s mantra reads, “Creativity is my drug of choice.” Look for this creative opiate to make itself increasingly apparent in ongoing innovative endeavors.
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The Eras of His Way - Joe Noland
PROLOGUE
How cheeky of him to write his own autobiography, I hear you thinking. And normally, I would concur. Normalcy, however, has never been my modus operandi. Retracing the past 80 years has been both a musing and sometimes amusing adventure; I recommend it highly as a cleansing, cathartic exercise.
Further, for good or bad, we all have a legacy to leave. And, if not enshrined in ink, then who’s going to know, huh? All of it, the good, the bad and the ugly! In today’s vernacular, the word ‘Bad’ can mean good or bad. But ugly is always ugly. #errorsineveryera
I write this primarily for my progeny, but if you happen to drop in, accidentally or on purpose, bless you. And if you dig deep enough, who knows, you might even find an insightful nugget or two. And most certainly there will be an entertaining chuckle every now and then. #wisdom #insight #humor
I don’t know if this has ever been done before, but it’s what I call a ‘spontaneous autobiography’, meaning off-the-cuff, without premeditation aforethought. When a thought or memory popped into my mind, I just let it go to see where it would take me. And there were plenty of surprises along the way. #improvisation
Further, my approach was purposely whimsical in nature, somewhat fanciful at times, light-hearted, but never too heavy. Part of the whimsy is found in the use of #words, invented as part of the twitter phenomenon. #hashtag
The Limit of 140 characters forces one to communicate thoughts, concepts or expressions in as few words as possible. So, to keep each chapter short and to the point, I’ve chosen to employ hashtag words and phrases. #concise #pithy #tomyeditorschagrin
Also you will find that I employ the pronoun ‘we’ throughout. For the most part, this journey has been a ‘we’, not an ‘I’, thing. From Chapter 17 onwards, you will read about how, when and where Doris joined the chorus. In so doing, she completed me. #weareone
Finally, I weave the experiences of the 1999 Salvation Army High Council throughout the eras of this autobiographical opus (convened to elect that body’s 14th General). I do so, not only because it heightens the suspense, but also because our attendance there together is both historical and career climactic. #interspersed #watchforthem #enjoythejourney
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14th HIGH COUNCIL
1
1999 - (Day 11)
THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER
We’re in London, England to elect the next General of The Salvation Army: Sunbury Court, Day 11. The ballot box stands High Council Chamber center; the High Council membership seated around it. For the fourth time I walk forward silently, placing a prayerfully marked ballot in the box, having not varied my selection since the second round of voting. The process, slow and deliberate, goes well into the second hour; the silence is deafening.
Finally, the last ballot is cast. Quietly, the Tellers remove the box from its stand and proceed to the room designated for this final counting; final because on the fourth ballot a simple majority decides the election, whereas on the first three, a two-thirds majority is required, which obviously had not been achieved.
I glance over at Doris and she at me, knowingly, because of our conversation preceding the ballot. It was a foregone conclusion in our minds that little would change from the previous count: 40-34, the majority vote getter carrying that margin on into the final ballot. It was between the same two candidates: no speeches, no discussion, little intermingling in between ballots. Who would change their minds? Even before the result is announced, instinctively, we know the identity of the next General.
Eventually the chamber door opens, waking us out of our reverie, and in walks the Chief Teller with a final tally. My eyes flit between the two nominees and the High Council President, who now holds the result in his hand. Every eye focuses on that hallowed slip of paper as it is unfolded.
Suspense! Intrigue! Anticipation! The feel is slow motion, as the President’s eyes meet ours and his lips begin to move. ‘My fellow members of the High Council, the result of our vote,’ he pauses, ‘37 to 37.’ Unbelievable! A virtual dead heat. What now?
14th HIGH COUNCIL
2
1999 - (Day 1)
‘HISTORIC MAKING’
Now, back to the first day… It feels surreal, sitting in The Salvation Army’s High Council Chambers in Sunbury Court, London, England, preparing for the election of a new General. In fact, I have to pinch myself from time to time to make sure it’s really me sitting here. Little did I know, at this moment, the drama that would play out over the following eleven days. #historic-making
This 14th High Council is already ‘historic-making’ at its onset; the first such event where wives are now voting members – and rightfully so as ‘full’ (ranked) Commissioners. Heretofore it was (Mrs.) Commissioner, who was always seen and treated as an appendage to her husband.
Doris is sitting to my left, number 25 in order of protocol; the woman being promoted one day after her husband, not wanting to progress too quickly towards full amputation; it will come eventually, so for now, I am number 24.
Sitting number 1 is always the Chief-of-the-Staff (Second-in-Command internationally), who in this instance is Commissioner Earl Maxwell. Sitting number 3, directly across the room from Maxwell, is Commissioner John Gowans, his seating order predicated on time served as a Commissioner, not by appointment (Commissioner Wilma Maxwell is number 2, abbreviated appendage right).
I mention these two men specifically because of their highly placed positions in the Council seating arrangement. #protocol #seniority
Sitting here, I can’t help but momentarily ponder the historical significance of this place, sensing the spirit of High Councils past, photos of each decorating the walls, where my own will subsequently be added. Can you believe it? With the addition of spouses, a new chamber had to be built in order to accommodate the increase in number, 75 to be exact, with one missing due to unrest and travel restrictions within his country.
This morning we had breakfast in the original chamber, where all meals are now served. Fried tomatoes pushed aside, my mind drifted back to the crisis initiating that first High Council 70 years ago, when General Bramwell Booth was deposed on grounds of ill health. I can sense the human drama that must have explosively filled this room. #turningpoint
If only walls could talk…
’30’s ERA
3
1937
LUCKY SEVEN
The year it all began for me: San Diego, California, Mercy Hospital, 7:00 a.m., Saturday morning (seventh day of the week), July (seventh month) 17th, weighing in at 7.7 lbs, or so my birth certificate says. My lucky day, having been ushered onto this planet, into one of the most affluent countries ever to exist. #luckynumber
Think about it; 2.5 billion people residing on this global sphere, the vast majority living in abject poverty, and my entry point just happens to be at the semi-tropical, southwest corner of the USA. What are the odds? #wonthelottery
Witness the plight of Judaism in Europe during this time. Think of my Jewish counterparts, those being born simultaneously; six million of them soon to be slaughtered in death camps—around 78% of the 7.3 million Jews in occupied Europe at the time. #notsolucky
I’m blessed and I don’t even know it yet, oblivious to the world around me. When not sleeping, I am focused on one thing only—that ubiquitous, all-providing nipple. #contented #neverland
The Great Depression is winding down and the winds of war are blowing. Still, I’m lucky enough to have plopped into this world on the safe, protected side of the pond, far away from the brutalizing despotism and repression abounding on other continents. #USA
We are a poor, nondescript family like most, my grandfather was a carpenter by trade and my dad worked in a brewery; a bottler by vocation and a very experienced taster by avocation.
Coincidentally, John D. Rockefeller and I passed each other on the way; he was going as I was coming, he sucking in his final breath and I suckling at my mother’s breast. Irony of ironies! John D., the first man to ever reach a nominal personal fortune of US $1 billion. By the time of his death in 1937, his net worth had grown to US $1.4 billion.
Adjustments place that worth in the range of US $192 billion to US $323.4 billion when adjusted to 21st Century dollars. By contrast, my dad is pulling in about $30 per week. Nevertheless, I’m very content with what I’m pulling on and in at the moment. #yummy
1937: The average wage per year is $1780; new house: $4100; new car: $760; gallon of gas: 10 cents; loaf of bread: 9 cents; and a first-class stamp: 3 cents. Unemployment hovers at 14.3%. #inflation
The Golden Gate Bridge opens to traffic. Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the first feature-length animated cartoon with sound, opens and becomes a smash hit. Daffy Duck debuts in Looney Tunes.
Franklyn D. Roosevelt is sworn-in for his second term as President. The Soviet Union commences one of the largest campaigns of the Great Purge, to ‘eliminate anti-Soviet elements’: at least 724,000 people are killed, many of them chosen by their ethnicity.
Adolph Hitler holds a secret meeting and states his plans for acquiring ‘living space’ for the German people. The Nanjing Massacre begins, as Japanese troops slaughter over 300,000 civilians.
Tommy Smothers, Colin Luther Powell, Jack Nicholson, Merle Haggard, Saddam Hussein, Bill Cosby, Dustin Hoffman, Jane Fonda, Noel Paul Stokely and Joey Noland are born.
Evangeline Booth is the General of The Salvation Army, having been elected at the second High Council three years earlier, five years after the disposal of her brother, Bramwell, which was the reason for convening the first High Council in 1929. General John Larsson, in his book, 1929, clearly defines the prominent role Evangeline played in that removal – a soap opera drama if ever there was one.
Interestingly, Evangeline was born on Christmas Day, 1865, the year the Army began, and ‘promoted to Glory’ (‘died’ for any non-Salvationists reading along) on July 17th, on my 13th birthday—an omen for sure, one would think. And a premonition, perhaps, of what was yet to come in the life of this anonymous, newborn nobody.
For now, however, the only things that really matter are those omnipresent, ever-beckoning, nipples.
1st HIGH COUNCIL
4
1929
A HISTORICAL WHISPER
Evangeline, then Commander of The Salvation Army in the USA, was at the center of the storm brewing in 1929 , as illustrated in the following portion of a ‘private’ letter written to her brother, the General, in April 1928:
‘There is no objection to the plan of a General. An army must have a General. But our objection is that our voice is not heard; that the leaders in our ranks are not consulted; are not taken into counsel, or even their views sought. This we cannot help but feel – I feel – to be contrary to the Founder’s most positive method and intention, and strongly savours of despotism. Surely, in a question of such vast importance as the one now before you, it is wisdom not only to seek the views of the High Council, but to give those views the utmost weight.’
To underscore the combative role she played in the eventual convening of that first High Council: ‘The Commander then circulated the private letter to selected commissioners and territorial commanders.’
Catherine, eldest daughter of General Bramwell, was also a central player in the drama, but on the