"This Wonderful Minister"

To the bishop it was the shock of a lifetime. The rector of one of his best churches had complained that his job was "too soft," had asked for transfer to "the toughest nut you've got."

Episcopal Bishop Noel Porter of Sacramento surveyed his Northern California diocese, at length sent the Rev. Robert Ray Read to two struggling missions in rugged, mountainous, sparsely populated Siskiyou County: Dunsmuir (pop. 2,500), a lusty railroad division point, and Mc-Cloud (pop. 1,900), a lumber town 16 miles away. Arriving at Dunsmuir in May 1948, Read "felt like a throwback to the 1 8th Century, when ministers really had to work, instead of keeping office hours." He had to work to stay alive: he got only $600 from the two missions, plus a $600 travel allowance from the diocese. He also had to build up his congregations; the average Sunday attendance at Dunsmuir was nine, at McCloud only six.

Conspiracy of Silence. Read had the stamina to do both. A ruddy, greying bachelor of 52 with a linesman's build (6 ft. 1 in.; 200 Ibs.), he became night clerk at a Dunsmuir hotel, worked seven nights a week at $49 a week. Says he: "I met numbers of people whom I would never have known otherwise." Through these and other contacts, he multiplied his congregations to the point where he needed his evenings for meetings and parish visits. He moved to McCloud, got a lumbermill job, joined the local C.I.O. union. As a ripsaw tailoff, he stands at the end of a screaming saw and deftly lifts some 30,000 molding strips a day into waiting trucks. In 1950 the mill paid him $3,130, nearly double what he got from the church. But in one way or another, he works at being a pastor all the time.

Pastor Read lives austerely in his one small room that is almost bare of personal possessions. It does have a piece of clothesline and a hotplate. As fast as he earns money, he spends it on birthday presents for moppets, fishing trips for underprivileged boys, books and ice cream for the sick. Most of his charity is secret. Last week John Glaese, principal of Dunsmuir High School, who recently became an Episcopalian "because I admired this wonderful minister so much," said: "Nobody will ever know how much Mr. Read does for people, helping sick bodies as well as souls. He works in a conspiracy of silence. He won't tell what he's done."

Example to Follow. Today there are 30 communicants at McCloud, and Dunsmuir has a combined church and Sundayschool membership of 100. Each Sunday Pastor Read holds a g a.m. service in the white-painted, frame St. John's Church McCloud, gives a ten-minute, one-point sermon. Then he hops into his secondhand Chevrolet, drives over a mountain road to Dunsmuir and conducts 11 o'clock services.

In 1950 both missions paid their diocesan assessments in full, Dunsmuir for the first time in 15 years. Dunsmuir has also cut its mortgage in half to $614.06. When Bishop Porter makes his next visit to the two missions, 25 adults and children will be ready for confirmation.

Such facts somewhat alarm those who know Bob Read. They fear he will soon start looking around for a three-or four-member congregation to build up. Read himself says: "If these missions ever become self-supporting and turn into parishes, I'll have to ask for another transfer. A minister can become smug with success."

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