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Trailer ministry
Monsignor Joseph G. Cassidy was a priest, successively, of the Diocese of Savannah, The Diocese of Savannah-Atlanta, The Diocese of Atlanta, and the Archdiocese of Atlanta. Among his many and varied assignments was that of the "Trailer Ministry" in which he set off into rural Georgia in 1938 pulling a large trailer behind his car to bring the Church to people and places for the first time. He wrote the following reminiscence around 1971. Trailer Experiences In accordance with your request relative to the Catholic parish in Lakeland, Ga., Mr. Booker, I submit the following discussion, which I trust you will find interesting and informative. Unfortunately I cannot discuss the subject of the establishment of that parish immediately, for, were I to do so, your reading matter would be confined to a few paragraphs and the whole story of the founding of that unique parish would remain hidden. When you have read the many pages of this discussion of the preliminaries, that were the steps to the goal of our efforts, I think you will understand the method of presenting this unusual story to you. Before touching on any aspects of this material, I wish to thank you for the opportunity you have given me to discuss something, in which I was engaged thirty three (33) years ago. I feel that I alone am familiar with the many elements that make up the final product. Much of this discussion will be very unfamiliar to the younger generation of Catholic clergy in the state of Georgia, but even among the older clergy, with the exception of Monsignors Deimel, Manning and Sheehan, very little is known of my trailer experiences. Certainly I feel I was the first Trailer Priest in Georgia, although in the ancient days of the Diocese of Savannah some priests did preach in many public places in our state. Accordingly, as I ramble on in this discussion, please be patient with the writer, who tried to fulfill an unusual assignment. Perhaps something I shall say will help you in writing the story of your home parish in Valdosta, for much of what I shall discuss directly or indirectly has a relationship to the Catholic Church in Valdosta and the contribution of one iota of knowledge to your task of writing the parish history will be a sufficient recompense for this little effort of mine. I welcome you, therefore, on a journey into the rural areas of Georgia, where I spent some years of my priestly life trying to evangelize a wholesome, but poorly educated people. To appreciate what actually went into this missionary activity, it is necessary to give you a resume of the nature and object of this particularly unusual work, for which Bishop Gerald P. O’Hara, the ordinary of the diocese of Savannah, commissioned me. Why he selected me, I shall never understand. Perhaps, in eternity, we shall learn the real reason for this appointment. Were you familiar with me, my nature, disposition and talents, you would agree that Bishops sometimes make strange selections. However, I can readily understand the reason for the activity, for in the largest state east of the Mississippi, the largest Christian Church was not the largest in its enrollment of souls, and as a zealous Bishop realizes, something should be done about correcting this situation. Bishop O’Hara, in his wisdom, certainly never dreamed of another Pentecost being enacted, as result of his labors and those of his associates, but deep down in his heart there must have been a vivid consciousness of his duty to make the Church better known in all parts of Georgia. In urban areas, such as Savannah, Atlanta and Rome, the Bishop was outstanding in his relationship with the leaders of our society but in rural areas of the diocese, and this certainly embraced the greater portion of the state, the Bishop, his Church and his mission were practically unknown. Bishop O’Hara, in my mind, has always stood forth as a great churchman and as such he was burning with zeal for the propagation of the faith and the evangelization of the numberless Georgians he had come to serve. When, therefore, the time arrived for undertaking a rural missionary activity, I happened to be available and consequently was chosen for this work. This is not false modesty. I lived under the influence of Bishop O’Hara for many years and I know how he reacted to situations. Still, this assignment became one of my fondest memories. To see the many little things that entered the picture of my priestly life, you will have to return with me to a consideration of some aspects of my personal history, which constituted the determining elements of my activity. I hope this personal history will not deter you from continuing to read this narrative. It is necessary to know these facts in order to appreciate the nature of my work.
In the new parish in Savannah, I would remain only two years, but during this short period of time I received a number of appointments; there is nothing unusual about this, for the pastor of a city parish in the episcopal city is the logical person to carry out many diocesan assignments; and I assure you they are many. Among these appointments I can mention Diocesan Director of Rural Life and Diocesan Director of the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine. Soon after receiving these appointments, I attended a Rural Life Convention in Richmond, Va. During this convention I was particularly impressed by the enthusiasm and zeal of so many priests, who were engaged in many rural activities. In addition to this general admiration, I came in direct contact with Trailer Work, as it was being carried out in many southern dioceses. The initiative of the men engaged in this work transmitted to me a conviction and a warmth that did not diminish for many years. All of this I communicated to the Bishop after my return to Savannah; little did I then realize what I was actually doing to formulate my future years. It was about this time, 1936, that other appointments came to me that very definitely influenced my future. The Bishop had placed me in charge of the new Villa Marie, the diocesan summer camp for the children of catholic parents, who lived in the rural areas of the diocese; at the end of the first year of this activity, another novel experience for me, of which I would have many in my life, the Bishop expressed the wish that the children attending the camp, as well as other catholic children living in the outskirts of the parishes should receive a regularly scheduled course of instructions throughout the entire year, if it were possible to do so. It is true the Catholics living in the rural areas of the diocese and particularly the children needed catholic contacts and instructions. The course of instruction was to begin immediately. The Bishop appointed me to take over this work. Of correspondence courses in religion I knew nothing. However, having the national office in Washington available for the distribution of this information, I felt a little better about the appointment and proceeded to take the first step toward the attainment of the dynamics of this totally new work. Whenever a new director of the confraternity was appointed by the Bishop, the name of the director was forwarded for obvious reasons to the national office. They in turn acknowledged the appointment and sent a questionnaire in which the new director was asked to express his preference of the work in which he would have a very special interest. Being anxious about the correspondence courses I was about to launch, I expressed my preference and patiently awaited the arrival of material to help me in my project. From the National Office I received a very flattering letter; such things you imagine do not happen, but in this instance it did. I HAD BEEN APPOINTED THE NATIONAL DIRECTOR OF Correspondence Courses in religion. This announcement startled me, for I knew nothing of the work, but feeling that this appointment would redound to the diocese, I accepted it, and then for the next two years struggled with this new burden, for it was a real burden at the beginning. My association with priests throughout the country, who were engaged in correspondence work, by their works and example helped me learn the methods of translating thoughts to others, and within a few years I had completed three courses for the children and one for the adults. The children in the rural areas, whose names were sent to me, received thirty lessons a year and this plan was to continue for at least three years. The adult course was used for potential converts, whom I contacted while I was engaged in trailer work. Carrying on a correspondence course for approximately four hundred and fifty (450) is not an easy task, but it had its compensations. Some years later I was thrilled to meet some of my former pupils in adult life, as they participated in diocesan catholic action. The courses also gave the diocese a direct contact with families that lived in out of the way places and perhaps by this means we were able to keep alive the faith of many. This project was very costly, for we asked for no assistance, but for all concerned it was very rewarding and beneficial. The second appointment, which very definitely had an effect on my future was appointment as regional director for the diocesan campaign for $100,000. At the time of the campaign, 1938, the amount sought by the diocese was the largest amount ever planned by the diocese; the campaign, however, was a tremendous success and the sum of $184,000 was actually collected. Among the many projects placed before the minds of the Catholics of the diocese during the campaign, a Mobile Chapel to serve the rural areas of the diocese was very prominently set forth. After attending several rural life conferences, I was aware of the great interest in trailer work, as evidenced in their use in several southern dioceses, but my knowledge of the particular programs followed in this work was meager. Some time after the arrival of the Mobile Chapel in the diocese, the Bishop and I were discussing the work of the trailer and the type of man suitable for this appointment. Later I asked the Bishop if he had anyone in mind for this diocesan work and he casually said he had. Pressed further to name the person, he stated simply that I was his choice for this new endeavor. Once again I was startled. My tenure of office at the Blessed Sacrament covered only two years and my plans for the parish were still in the formative stage. To make matters worse, the Bishop wished me to begin this work immediately. It was also his plan to keep me in the parish, spending five days each week in the rural areas and the week-ends at the parish church. In time I convinced the Bishop that this plan would help neither the parish nor the new project. It was then he decided that I would resign my position as pastor and eventually devote all my time to trailer work. However, the announcement of my resignation was not to be released until I left the city. All this seemed a strange way to handle the matter, but it is the way prescribed by the Bishop. After leaving the parish some time later, as if I were trying to hide something from every one, I was well on my way, when the Bishop announced the name of my successor, Father James Conlin. Things of a very unusual nature have happened in my life, but this was one of the strangest. From my contacts at Rural Life Conferences I knew the Paulist Fathers in Tennessee were very active in trailer work, so I contacted Father James Cunningham at One Hundred Oakes, Tennessee and made arrangements to spend some time there as if I were serving my internship. Once again I was assuming a responsibility, whose demands were unfamiliar, if not unknown to me. My stay at the Paulist Rectory in Tennessee lasted only ten days, but during that time I studied their methods for trailer activity, observed their nightly offering on location and by these means laid the foundation for my future work. The work, planned and supervised by Father Cunningham, was so effective, it generated a contagious invitation to go and do likewise. If in my efforts to copy the methods of the Paulists, I, with the help of God’s grace, accomplished anything constructive, I can trace it to its natural origin -- the training I received at One Hundred Oaks. My admiration for the zeal and interest of the Paulists in their mission to the non-catholic will always hold a special place in my memory. Without this training, brief as it was, I would have floundered on the sea of missionary activity. Parenthetically I might add this note: In my forty seven years in the priesthood in Georgia, varied has been my experience, serving in the high as well as the low places, but with due respect to all my appointments, my trailer work and the present position of Chaplain at the Central State Hospital would be my special loves. From the Paulists I learned these six important guidelines for trailer work: 1) Try to be a good salesman A brief examination of these points and their application to my work -- interesting, and rewarding, this should be. 1) In the first place, I was in charge of a very attractive Motor Chapel, bearing the title in bold letters: “Queen of Apostles Motor Chapel”. It was dark brown in appearance, very long and quite wide, beautiful to behold, but, as I learned from experience, somewhat impractical. Unfortunately it was low slung and cleared the road by hardly twelve inches. On a muddy, narrow Georgia road this could cause trouble, and it did. The interior consisted of a few drawers built into the front of the trailer, where personal belongings, as well as literature could be stored. Along the right side was the sleeping area, modelled after the ancient Pullman equipment; it consisted of two bunks which could be moved out of sight, as if they were murphy beds. On the rear of the trailer were two small doors that would open up and display the altar. This evidently was to be used only for field masses. It was very impractical, except for display purposes, and I used it for the celebration of Mass on very few occasions. The rear platform, however, served as a pulpit and the slight elevation and the lighting effects were helpful in my work. The trailer chapel was pulled by a powerful Chrysler, which I assure was costly to operate. Its maneuverability, however, was fantastic. Long before power brakes or power steering came into being, this outfit worked in a very satisfactory manner. The method of communicating the news of my program was a little primitive, for I had ordinary handbills printed which contained this message:
These throwaways were distributed in the district where I was to work about a week before the actual trailer work began. I distributed these handbills personally and by visiting the people in their homes tried to make myself known. In this way I came to a new area not entirely unknown. In the rural areas people are more inclined to be friendly and even a little familiarity could help and improve the reactions of a stranger, as he faced the unknown. On the night of the performance, and I assure you it had all the qualities of a stage offering, I would make my appearance an hour before the actual performance began; and after setting up the equipment, such as the loud speakers, the movie projector, the screen, the literature, etc. I played gospel hymns with the highest volume possible. I have always regretted the amount of volume I used at the time, but I felt it was necessary for me to do so to announce my arrival. The people lived quite a distance from the locale of the performance, and I certainly did not want them to miss my “Show”. After a sacred concert of one half hour, I met the first arrivals. At first they did not approach too closely to the trailer, for I suppose I was strange to them, as they were to me, but the real means of breaking down the communication gap between us was accomplished by the sermon and a friendly handshake after the show. On subsequent nights they were less hesitant about the approach to the trailer and in time there was no trouble at all. The reception of the trailer work in the rural areas of the state was fabulous. On no occasion did I encounter any criticism or hostility. Only once in my long service in many places was my work misunderstood. My sermons were planned after this method: At the very beginning I assured my hearers that I came to them because I wished to help them and hoped they would be patient with me, as I endeavored to display the riches of religion to them. In the sermons of the first few weeks, I did not mention Catholicism per se, but spoke on general subjects, such as God, life, duty, responsibility, etc. As you can understand, I came to them a stranger and at the beginning it was necessary to win their affections and admiration. Later I would be able to sell my religion. Only after weeks of personal contact, did I preach on the essence and the specifics of Catholicism. As a rule I preached each evening for thirty minutes, after which religious movies were shown. I feel certain that the movies were the real attraction in all places when this work was inaugurated. Later, however, when people really expressed their desire to learn, I had little use for the movies. We were rather fortunate in getting worth while movies. For the entire time of my trailer work, the King of Kings, bible stories and travelogues of the Holy Land made up our program. The King of Kings was a full length movie, was too long for any special evening and was usually shown in three different segments. Frequently I would preach on the subject matter of each segment. After the showing of the movie each evening, I invited the audience to take what literature they wished. They were likewise invited to visit and inspect the trailer chapel. At the beginning the literature, like the sermons, was rather general; later more catholic material was available. An occasional shaking of hands and a friendly good night, as well as an invitation to return the next evening brought to a close the evening performance. Each night was a challenge; each visit an unknown potential. The uncertainty of what might occur certainly added a zest to our work. All that I have described took place thirty two years ago. At that time radios provided the greater portion of the national entertainment; movies were very popular and television was still a brainchild. I wonder how effective would our program at the present day, were we to use the ancient methods. At that time it was very practical, for an audience could be assembled, and all things considered, I feel the method was somewhat successful. After some experience with the rural people of Georgia, who to me at the beginning of my work were an unknown quantity, I learned to love and respect them for their standards of life and their sincerity of purpose. They possessed little of the world’s goods, but fundamentally they were very conscious of the importance of duty and morality. They have a very special place in my affections and in my relationship with them I have never experienced one instance of disillusionment. I have always felt that their distance from the allurements of the city helped them grow in natural virtue and simplicity of pursuit. To me they seemed very wonderful and when later I enjoyed social hour with them and shared in their humble fare, I realized that my acceptance was an accomplished fact. Such experiences did much to encourage me to work with interest and enthusiasm. 2) After years of parish relationships and a wholesome Catholic experience in Savannah, Atlanta and Rome, I naturally found the atmosphere of my new activity very different from anything heretofore experienced. As a rule my audience consisted of people who had received very little religious training, whose background, as far as the church was concerned, was a conglomeration of generalities and pious platitudes, and their very lives screamed for guidance and instruction. To such I had come; to such I would remain faithful and my prayer visualized my efforts as an instrument of enlightenment and a faithful guide to lasting happiness. I have always been aware of the importance of sincerity in my life and work, but in a very special manner, as I viewed the field of my activity, the wisdom of that little Latin expressions: Nemo dat, quae non habet [no one can give what he does not have] was very conspicuous. This thought made me very humble and absolutely dependent on Divine Help. As a good person, assisted by God, I could succeed. But the first step in my long road to success was a personal dedication to God and humanity. In other words, I prayed that my life would be my most eloquent sermon. 3) I had been taught by the Paulists to look to the rural and not the urban areas for the field of my activity. The more rural the location, the more promising the results. This was their positive belief and their success confirms their wisdom. In cities, organized religion existed and for the good of all concerned it was simply an attitude of “Touch me not”. In rural areas, on the other hand, where religious facilities were few, in such conditions it was understandable that people would be more inclined to listen and appreciate efforts in their behalf. This was the policy I followed and I found it very sound. In some instances I made exceptions, such as preaching in the city auditorium in Albany, and occasionally showing the King of Kings in some of the city schools; but as a rule I limited my activities to rural areas. I can recall an instance of work on the street corners of a city in Georgia and the reaction to this resembled an experience in Hyde Park, London. Another instance of the impractical character of using our methods in city precincts was the visit of the representative of the Knights of Columbus, who visited many of our cities. The results were insignificant. Thirty years ago there was little ecumenism among the churches and each was tolerated by the other as long as denominational lines were not crossed. To-day conditions are very different, but I feel we are exaggerating the results to be accomplished through ecumenism. As Catholics we could lose our cherished identity and become one of the many, instead of retaining our singular character in the religious world. At present the results of ecumenism are microscopic. For almost fifty years I have been practicing ecumenism in one form or another and my personal conviction is simply this: Regardless of what people feel about me and my position, and I suppose many of them respect my convictions, very few will admit the validity of our position on many vital moral questions and fewer have shown any interest in the ONE, TRUE, CATHOLIC CHURCH. I feel that many of the younger Catholic clergy have hurt our cause irreparably by their revolt against authority and their irreligious attack on our leadership. They definitely have diverted the minds of many from a consideration of the Church, where some day we hope all will share mutual interests. 4) It is one thing to admire a preacher; it is quite different to accept his teachings as authentic and fundamental. Soon after my work began among the various groups of people I realized the inadequacy of their knowledge and the vagueness of their convictions. Their beliefs were very general, but even in this respect they were not too clearly defined. Therefore, it was important for me to familiarize them, if they were interested, with the facts and truths of religion; Catholic literature would be a tremendous help in accomplishing this end. In addition to listening to me preach the word of God, these people had to increase their knowledge by reading and study. From the available literature displayed at the meetings and eventually by means of a correspondence course in religion, I tried to supply this need. From experience I have also learned that it is much more satisfactory to send literature, rather than simply supply it, for receiving mail from a known source does something to one’s ego, that touches on the important. Perhaps this might explain the popularity of my correspondence courses. As I came to the end of two weeks of preaching in an area, or at the end of one week, where prospects were absent, a general invitation was extended to all who might enjoy continuing their instructions and to each I offered a course in religion. This course could be continued or discontinued at the will of the person concerned. It was very important to lay special emphasis on this phase of my work, for I did not wish anyone to think I would pressure them into religion. In time I corresponded with 500 adults, most of them continued to take the course of instructions long after I left their area. Without the available literature at our meetings and the subsequent correspondence course in religion I would have accomplished very little. But the grace of God and the external means I employed did help me in my work. How much? Only the Lord knows. 5) After preaching in an area for a limited time, it was my plan to move to other places. This change of scenery presented a problem. There had to be some way of keeping in touch with the people who expressed an interest in religion. The correspondence course could help, but it was not sufficient to keep interest vibrating. The Paulists always followed up their primary efforts by weekly instructions. Every person expressing a desire to continue instructions was enrolled immediately in a study group that assembled once a week for further knowledge. In this way personal contacts and instructions were maintained. In my case, things were different. I was alone in this work, having no assistant to carry part of the burden and the only help given me was that offered by the local pastor. Some of the pastors did help me, but after my departure, most of the work stopped. This was the most unfortunate of all conditions. The Paulists realized the importance of personal follow-up work, and this is the real secret of their success. In this respect I failed. Very few of the clergy were interested in this type of work and as a consequence very little follow-up work was done in Georgia. They certainly lost a golden opportunity of enlarging the membership of the Church Militant; this has always been my conviction. Aside from the follow-up work on the part of the Oblates, little else was done. For this I blame my inability to set up an organization that would function in my absence. Once I conducted an all day seminar at the Cathedral in Atlanta for the clergy of the diocese. During that meeting I discussed my work, my methods, and other subjects associated with trailer work; but only a passing interest was in evidence at or after the seminar. I was conscious of the many demands on the time of a pastor, but I am convinced that most pastors were actually afraid to leave the protective walls of their rectories to explore the unknown areas surrounding their parishes. Perhaps, on the other hand, I lacked the qualities of real leadership capable of transmitting to others my consuming interest in this type of work. Who can answer this? Certainly, not I. All I know is this: I did my best and accomplished very little. 6) I realized at the very beginning of this apostolate that I faced almost insurmountable barriers, but being young and zealous, I was willing to face everything. The Catholic population of the diocese of Savannah was so small and the number of priests so insignificant that we can honestly say that throughout the length and breadth of the state of Georgia the Catholic Church was practically unknown. Savannah, which the late Monsignor McNamara always described as the barometer of Catholic life in Georgia, created a false picture of its multitudinous catholic population. This has always been misleading. It certainly could boast of more Catholics residing within its precincts than any other city in the state, but the impression created was not realistic. We could boast of a little strength, but not enough to demand the attention of social or political leaders. My new field of activity, as a result of this, was really virgin soil. Fear of what might happen to me never entered my mind. My motive in undertaking this work was completely spiritual, growing out of my obedience to the Bishop. I definitely left everything in the hands of God. The vision of my future was not too attractive; little was to be expected in return from my efforts, but in spite of the aloneness I experienced in this work and the absence of real results, an occasional event, such as the dedication of the church as Lakeland, or the announcement of the Pullman Porter, that he continued his instructions in the faith after I completed my mission to the Isle of Hope, such things made me realize that all my work was not fruitless, for somewhere someone was helped. Normally my mission was carried on with little trouble. But soon after Pearl Harbor, I was reported to the local sheriff of one county as a spy sending coded messages to Europe. As a result of this report, I was shadowed by a deputy. In time I learned the whole story through the kindness of a local police chief, who too was obligated to investigate a report he had received. In time I investigated this whole affair, contacted the local authorities and the F.B.I. in the interest of my work and by discussing the matter with the man who made the original report, resolved the whole situation in a very favorable manner. However, I easily could have been a classical example of misunderstanding and misrepresentation. In my long experience in the rural areas, this was the only incident of a distasteful nature that occurred. Being appointed to a large parish in time, I gradually withdrew from trailer work, but as I said above it is one of my fondest memories. It has taken me a long time to come to the material, in which you have a very personal interest, viz., the founding of the parish in Lakeland, Ga, but I have a good reason for all that I have written thus far. In the previous pages I have given you the story behind my work, for I feel it is necessary to know the many elements that gradually led me to Lakeland. Without some knowledge of the preliminaries, you would hardly understand the Lakeland Story. After all my preparations had been made and all the equipment assembled, such as the movies, the projector, the screen, the literature, etc., I left the Blessed Sacrament Parish in Savannah in the fall of 1938, with mixed emotions in my heart: enthusiasm certainly for my new work, which was so challenging, but also some fear as to the future. The element of the unknown is always more disturbing than most conditions that actually exist, and in my new work I certain-would face the unknown. In addition to this, the thought came to me that perhaps for the first time in my life I would be homeless and very much alone. As an itinerant I would have to depend on the grace of God and the kindness of my fellow priests. I was more certain of the first than of the second. My experience in handling the trailer was quite limited and my knowledge of what to do in emergencies even less. However, I was young and this should be an asset. Later in life I certainly would hesitate to undertake such a responsibility as the trailer, its care and its mission. As long as I live the recollections of this departure for my new mission will be clearly etched on my memory. My mixed emotions, the narrowness of Route 17 out of Savannah, the heavy traffic on the road, the terrifying approach of a Greyhound Bus, that seemed to create a suction that definitely affected the position of the trailer -- such things accompanied my departure from the parish, where I had spent only two years of my priestly life. Somehow or other, in time, I arrived at my first destination: Valdosta, Ga. There were two reasons for this selection as my first field of activity. In the first place, Father James King, the pastor of the church in Valdosta was a class-mate. In the second place, its location in South Georgia and its proximity to a vast rural area convinced me as to the plausibility of this as a locale for trailer work. Finally reaching Valdosta and parking the trailer with difficulty in the rear of the church yard, I can assure you my heart was heavy and my life quite devoid of enthusiasm. Fortunately for me, Father King was an excellent tonic for my nerves and his subsequent words of encouragement lifted the pall of despair from my heart. I am not exaggerating the condition of that first night on the road. I do not suppose it differs very much from other firsts in various fields of activity, but to me it was formidable, as well as terrifying. To realize the nature of my assignment, to be conscious of the undermined elements in this new phase of activity, as well as having the responsibility of the trailer and its mission -- all of this was sufficient to unnerve the stoutest of characters and on that first night I felt far removed from that particular category. A feeling of relative relaxation for the next few days helped me restore myself to a normal condition of life. The adjustment however was slow. Soon after we decided to begin this missionary work in the vicinity of Lakeland, Father King was notified of his transfer to Milledgeville. I felt this announcement very keenly, for I had planned on my class-mate helping me get the program under way. Again I felt very much alone. Father Herman Diemel was to succeed Father King at Valdosta, but this did not soften the blow at that time. During the next few weeks I became very indebted to Father Diemel for his help and encouragement. Two incidents stand forth in my memory, when I think of Father King’s transfer. The first concerns a farewell party sponsored by some of his friends in the parish. This was held a few days after the announcement of his transfer. Father King had only a few days to prepare for his new assignment and his friends held this party at the rectory. At the party they presented him with a purse amounting to $17 – yes, that is correct: $17. When he told me this, I was furious. Money has never been an important item in my life, but the amount of this purse astounded me. I simply felt that if they could not give him at least the equivalent of $100, they should have forgotten the whole thing. He personally felt that this was in proportion to their means; I did not. He however seemed pleased that they gave him anything. The second incident occurred on the following Sunday. This was to be the last day Father King would spend in the parish. Before going to the church for the second Mass, he told me he was going to invite the parishioners to visit the Motor Chapel, for in this way they could see one of the practical results of the recent campaign. Soon after the beginning of this Mass, I went to the trailer and waited – and waited – and waited. After about two hours, the people left the church and spent some time viewing the Motor Chapel. Later I asked Father King why in the name of heaven there was such a long delay. In a manner characteristic of himself, and you would have to know Father King to appreciate this, he casually announced four things that contributed to the length of the service. They are worthy of mention:
After listening to all this, I realized how fortunate I was that I was delayed only this long. It certainly could have been worse. Early Monday morning Father King left for Milledgeville and Father Deimel assumed his duties at St. John’s, Valdosta. In time Father Deimel proved himself a worthy successor to Father King. During the time of preparation for my actual work, it was decided to begin the apostolate on the farm of Dan O’Brien who with his large family lived in the outskirts of Lakeland. After distributing the hand-bills the previous week, I started my first mission to rural Georgia; this was done with Pauline enthusiasm. On Monday evening I left Valdosta, driving the Motor Chapel along the Lakeland road toward my destination. About a mile south of the O’Brien farm, the highway was blocked and a detour of unknown length provided the only access to my destination. The detour was narrow; the trailer was wide; the ruts in the road were numerous; the trailer kept scraping the road-bed; the bridges seemed endless and my disposition about this time was gradually deteriorating into a mental reaction that could have been disturbing. As a matter of fact, I had to drive through the town of Lakeland and return south about a mile before I reached the farm. Need I explain my feelings, my reactions on the occasion of the first mission I undertook? No wonder I continue to cringe whenever I see or hear the word –DETOUR. The trailer was riding in the ruts most of the trip, but with the Lord’s help we survived the experience and as a result I always anticipated the worst in all future trips. Arriving at the farm about 6 P.M. I set up all the equipment and about an hour later started the concert of religious hymns. I used these non-catholic hymns on almost every occasion of trailer work, for they were very familiar to my audience and I felt there were many things we had in common, which people should understand. The equipment included a very heavy generator, which supplied sufficient power for the lights and other requirements, such as the power for the movie projector and loud speakers. When I think of the many mechanical things I had to learn in trailer work, I stand amazed at my ability, for I received very little mechanical training on the road to the priesthood. The first program began and I was agreeably surprised to have an audience of twenty people. In this work you can never estimate the size of a future audience. After the people listened to the sermon, saw the first segment of the King of Kings and showed the first signs of restlessness, I invited them to examine the literature on display and then visit the Motor Chapel. The Queen of Apostles Motor Chapel was a sight to behold. I often wondered if it or I were the real attraction. In rural areas it definitely was a conversation piece, for it differed from anything the rural people had ever seen. After the show, for that it what it was, I decided to sleep in the trailer and celebrate Mass the next morning in the O’Brien home. Sleeping in the trailer on a farm is a very unusual experience; at least it was for me. The cows kept late hours and in their search for the barn kept banging against the side of the trailer and the pigs would get stuck under the car and their antics were not conducive to sleep. At an early hour I went to the O’Brien home for a morning shave, only to learn that the farm generator produced little power and as a result of trying to shave with an electric razor I almost tore apart my face. This gave me a good excuse to go later to Valdosta and I loved the trip, for I was bubbling over with news and my early experiences were positively crying aloud for expression. Because of this experience I would spend in the future very few nights in the trailer and it was my plan to select, wherever possible, a locale not more than an hour’s drive from the local rectory. In a few places, however, it would be practical to use the trailer for Mass, but ordinarily I would have no catholic audience. Returning to a rectory each evening gave me companionship and the facilities of a church. Each was very attractive. At the beginning my plan called for a stay of a week in each location. This week would be extended to another week, if there appeared any prospects of continuing instructions. It was necessary therefore to sense the feelings of the audience and decide on a practical expectancy. At the O’Brien’s I had merely scratched the surface and decided to move to another location. This was provided by the invitation of a colored man, who had attended the five meetings and was impressed by my attitude towards his race. He expressed the wish that I would continue my work in his district, which was closer to the town of Lakeland. I was totally unaware of anything unusual about my attitude toward the colored race and I accepted the invitation because of the attitude of the man himself. In this new locale I realized all the members of my audience would be of the colored race. As the weather at this time of the year was changing and it was getting a little cooler each evening, I decided to use the public school buildings in the fall and winter months, if the local authorities would permit this. In this respect I have found all school authorities most cooperative and helpful. When I began to preach in the new area, which was closer to Lakeland, I was aware from the very beginning that the whole atmosphere was different. It was one of those personal reactions, which you sense, but would find very difficult to explain. It was not the size of the audience, which numbered seventy five to one hundred. The reaction of the people was more spontaneous than any that I had ever experienced. I came to spend one week with these people and so enthusiastic were they that I actually spent eight weeks with them. They were very distant at first, but very close at the end of my mission to them. In reality the grace of God was present in abundance in Lakeland and my arrival was properly timed for planting the seed of conversion. After the eight weeks had passed, I left Lakeland, for I had many other places to visit, and I committed my mission, which had begun so suspiciously, to the capable hands of the oblate Fathers, who under the able leadership of Father Fred Gilbert produced the fruits of a missionary activity that had few equals in the history of Catholicism in Georgia. While the results of this missionary activity only remotely reflect the first Pentecost, there is a reflection of that glorious occasion, however faint it might seem. I had the good fortune to begin the work, but the Oblate Fathers completed the mission that eventually was crowned the establishment of a parish, the erection of a church, and wonderful to relate, the founding of a parochial school in an area, where Catholicism was hardly known. As a matter of fact, when I began my activity in Lakeland, I expected little return for my efforts. In other locations the expectancy of results was greater, but Lakeland, which promised so little, produced so much that we are convinced we underestimate the plan of the Almighty. As you can understand from the above narrative, I have not related many details of the steps that led to the establishment of the parish at Lakeland. I cannot give you any more information, for my contribution merely centered on the beginning of this work, not its completion. The Oblate Fathers completed this work and to them alone is credit due. As you must have gleaned from my description, I did not undertake a special mission to the colored or the under-privileged. I simply visited rural areas with a zealous hope and a prayer that God would bless my efforts. No other intention, no other motive entered my mind. I preached to all who would listen. In Lakeland the colored people happened to be my audience and to them I offered my best efforts. Throughout different areas the audience would vary; but I came to preach and he who would take time to listen, to him I became a friend and counselor. Everyone did not approve of my work and I received only token assistance from the clergy. One pastor, as the first meal I shared in his rectory, asked me who was going to pay my board for the month I would be in the parish. One Catholic parishioner in Valdosta expressed her regrets that her contribution to the diocesan campaign was being spent on the negroes. When many pictures of my work appeared in the diocesan publication, which made known the many ways in which the diocesan funds were being spent, some very critical things were said about my work and particularly the interest I showed toward the colored people. Such reactions did not disturb me; as a matter of fact I felt sorry for those who had never learned the importance of charity in religious life. The time spent in each place varied at times, for it was a simple matter to gauge the feeling and to anticipate the future response. My experiences were numerous and, while the results seem small for three years of labor, in the eternal records, perhaps, we shall find a little more in the field of accomplishment. This missionary work was a real delight and my only regret is the fact that other priests did not partake of the joy of this ministry. For each it would have been a refreshing memory. When I returned to parish work, my Correspondence Courses were entrusted to Father Toomey and my trailer activity to the Home Missioners in Statesboro. What each has done is now diocesan history. As I bring to a close this narrative of my work in rural Georgia and bid adieu to those happy days of my priestly life, I rejoice that I was selected to do something out of the ordinary for my God and my adopted state of Georgia. Joseph G. Cassidy
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In 1936, after seven happy years in the parish of St. Mary’s,
Rome, I was transferred to the church of the Blessed Sacrament in Savannah. My
first appointment in 1923 was to the Cathedral in Savannah and I had wonderful
memories of my two years in the episcopal city. But the transfer in 1936 came
immediately after my return from Europe; the trip had been given to me by the
people of Rome. I have never regretted the appointment; it was simply the
suddenness of the announcement that upset me. To return to Savannah was a real
thrill, but it was a little disturbing to leave my first pastorate at a time
when the people of the city had demonstrated their real affection for me. As a
matter of fact, I was informed of my transfer only five days after my return
from Europe and as a result of this I have never had an opportunity of relating
to the people of Rome the many wonderful experiences they by their generosity
made possible. I have always regretted the fact that I gave them so little in
return for their goodness to me.