Camp Meeting

A 60-piece orchestra played rousing sacred music. A reformed jailbird, a one-time drug-addict, a converted cowpuncher, a ''reformed Presbyterian deacon" gave testimonials. A brief, fierce sermon whipped up the pulses of 1,500 people in the arched, open-walled tabernacle. One by one they hurried up to kneel in straw and sawdust by a long bench-like altar. Rawboned, hot-eyed men lifted clasped hands high in prayer. Women wailed, waved their arms, chanted gibberish. Small bewildered children noisily imitated their elders. The din rose, night after night, week after week, while plain people nearby stirred crossly in their beds.

On a neatly-landscaped ten-acre plot outside Portland, Ore. the 29th annual camp meeting of the Apostolic Faith began late in June. From States as far off as Pennsylvania and New York its adherents gathered, setting up quarters in 500 tents. They fed themselves at the camp ground's restaurant or bought their victuals from its stores. They knew better than to wear low-necked dresses or to use tobacco or alcohol. Zealous believers in a God whose Son might return to earth any minute, they prayed, sang, shouted night after night until last week when two husky ministers ducked numbers of them in a big baptismal tank, sent them home for another year.

Founder and high priestess of the Apostolic Faith is an indomitable white-haired woman named "Mother" Florence Louise Crawford, 63. She believes that God spoke to her in 1906 when, twice married and the mother of two, she was dancing. "I did not know the voice of God and went on in the dance. . . . My feet became heavy and the place was no longer beautiful to me. Again the voice spoke much louder, 'Daughter, give me thine heart!' The music died away and I left the ballroom; and for three days and nights I prayed and wept and wrestled for my salvation. . . .

"[God] led me to a little mission. . . . As I sat in my chair ... the Holy Ghost fell from Heaven and a rushing mighty wind filled the room. This tongue that never spoke another word but English began to magnify and praise God in another language. I was speaking in Chinese, and it was the sweetest thing I ever heard in my life. The power of God shook my being. . . . The healing of my body was complete."

Mrs. Crawford declared she was healed of eye trouble, lung trouble, a deformity, and an internal ailment. She founded a mission in a Portland blacksmith shop, began preaching against divorce and remarriage. She firmly advocated tithing, explaining to her followers that the Gospel is against life insurance, labor unions, lodges, the cinema, bobbed hair, stylish garb and other extravagances. Thriving on tithes plus free-will offerings at meetings, the Apostolic Faith now has $500,000 worth of property, a printing plant, a Live Gospel Mission ("Brightest Spot in Portland"), others in Norway, Sweden, South Africa and Bowling Green, Ky. Treasurer of the Faith is a man called Paulson, who also serves as mechanic for eight Apostolic automobiles. Sailors in Portland Harbor are evangelized from an Apostolic yacht.

Rev. Raymond Crawford, "Mother" Crawford's 43-year-old son and second in command, piloted an Apostolic airplane among Northwest missions until he cracked up. Now he leads the 60-piece orchestra, has a nice home in Portland. "Mother" Crawford owns two beach bungalows, a cottage on the camp grounds, a big white town house where she boards and trains promising young Apostolic ministers. When they marry, iron-willed "Mother" Crawford throws them out. She advocates celibacy, recommends continence among married folk, was chagrined when her two children married. Stern, dowdy in dress, "Mother" Crawford lavishes affection only on her kennel of Pomeranian dogs which she takes along, like yapping cherubim, to camp meetings. To members of the Apostolic Faith it is a distinction and a privilege to be allowed to buy one of "Mother" Crawford's Pomeranians.

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