Heirloom #14
by Will Frank
America’s entry into World War I made Norfolk a boom town, with all the challenges and opportunities of massive and rapKey change. The old Jamestown Exposition site became a major naval base, while military training camps dotted the region. Increasingly, soldiers by the thousands poured through Hampton Roads on their way to a very bloody war, in which on a quiet day thousands were killed in their trenches by unexpected artillery or mortar fire. The casualties in offensives mounted to astronomical levels. In Norfolk, townspeople found their community inundated by masses of young men in uniform, which had an unsettling effect on those who feared for the peace, stability, and morality of their town. People also feared the spread of disease, as military camps saw an increasing incidence of diphtheria, pneumonia, measles, whooping cough, and other contagious diseases. The naval base and the St. Helena annex were so infected as to be quarantined. The specter of this double challenge, for the soldiers and for the town, boldly strode through the door of the First Unitarian Church of Norfolk and demanded attention.
The Rev. John Lewis Einstein performed his church duties as expected, but his pull was increasingly to serve the thousands of trainees and soldiers who did not come to local churches. The church needed to go to them. In the summer of 1917, started to minister to recruits in the training camps, with the great approval of city officials who were concerned about soldiers’ ”temptations“ and the apprehensions they felt for the community. But in September the new church season began, with all of its demands on Einstein’s time and energy. On September 30, 1917, he called a meeting of the members of the Unitarian church probably to discuss how he and the church could help serve the needs of wartime. At Thanksgiving time he led a Bible study class on what imperatives might call one, after a critical examination of scripture, through the life and teachings of Jesus. He preached on the subject of “All that Thou Sendest Me.” Then, on December 23 was held a “congregational meeting of such importance that every member of the church is asked to be present.” The minutes have not been found, but it is clear that some members of the congregation were not pleased with the minister diverting his time and attention away from the church to soldiers going to war. Likely for some, fear for the morality and health of the community eclipsed the call of humanitarian service. It is also clear that Einstein was pulled by patriotism and enlarged service, from which he could not turn away. For the duration of the war, soldiers would take a higher priority than the small congregation on Freemason Street. Samuel A. Eliot, president of the American Unitarian Association, was supportive of the enlarged ministry in Norfolk. To both, such service was not only an urgent patriotic and human call, it was doing Unitarianism. It might even propagate the liberal faith. The AUA continued to pay Einstein’s salary, now to perform war service work.
From Christmas 1917 on, Einstein devoted all of his energies to the call of this wider service, and quickly reported that “I am up to my eyes in the work.” At first, working under a Navy chaplain, he ministered to soldiers in YMCA huts, visited the sick in military hospitals, and labored to establish a Service Club in downtown Norfolk. He was disappointed that no churches were meeting the need, and despite his pleas, neither the city nor the other churches would financially back a Service Club.
With the naval facilities of Norfolk under quarantine and the winter having passed, Einstein turned his attention to the training camps in Newport News and joined the Newport News Camp Community Service. Despite much confusion, little imagination, scant facilities and funds, and an overwhelming need, Einstein in February 1918 found the service so meaningful and so understaffed that he admitted that “I wish now I had given up the Norfolk church when we entered the war and plunged into this work.”
Meanwhile, back on Freemason Street, the First Unitarian Church of Norfolk stood empty.