The Preacher & Rose City

In Rose City, Mich. (pop. 350), neighbor was set against neighbor. There were secret meetings, plots and stratagems. Mayor Norton King plastered the town with placards: "Keep calm and collected for a few days until we can settle this among ourselves." Old Mrs. Jennie Lazenby said she hadn't seen so much excitement since the lumbering days. The cause of all the rumpus was the Rev. Cecil Scott.

Scott had come to the little crossroads farming town, a year ago as a lay preacher for the new Methodist Church. He had a nose for sin. His eyes gleamed behind his rimless glasses, and his tongue was like a two-edged sword. He cried aloud for the citizens of Rose City to repent. They went to movies and dances, he stormed. While the kids played baseball on Sunday, he prayed in church for rain to stop them.

Through the Curtains. He wrote Governor Kim Sigler that liquor was being sold to schoolchildren while city officials, all "drinking men," looked the other way. Peering through the parsonage's curtains, he said, he had seen: "Schoolchildren taking nips between dances from bottles hidden in snowdrifts . . . boys & girls undressing and committing indecencies in parked cars. . . ."

City officials and schoolteachers demanded that Scott back up his accusations with names and dates, or retract. Scott refused to do either. Sympathizers flocked to his church, murmuring "Hallelujah" as Preacher Scott laid into sin harder than ever.

But other folks got madder. Detroit newspapers, which covered Rose City's uproar for all it was worth, discovered that Scott had been arrested in 1931 for drunken driving in Flint, in fact was converted to religion a short three years ago after a nondescript career as a salesman, industrial worker and beer-truck driver.

Through the Village. The anti-Scottists hoped that would convince the Detroit Methodist conference that Scott should not be reappointed. The conference gave Scott a hearing. Then, disregarding the advice of the committee on appointments, Bishop Raymond J. Wade sent him back to Rose City with exhortations to continue the "war against the liquor interests."

Preacher Scott went back. Last week, motherly Mrs. Elizabeth Fleming, whose well had supplied the parsonage for 29 years, cut off his water supply. When Scott went to the hardware store for a new bottle of cooking gas, the clerk told him he had none. The druggist refused to sell him anything. Newspapers were all "spoken for." Signs reading "We Don't Want Scott" appeared in windows.

At week's end, Scott and his wife were forced to move in with his staunchest supporter, Lumber Dealer Harold ("Tiny" ) Rice. Church trustees prepared a plea to the bishop to reconsider. Said Preacher Scott: "I shall not be moved."

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