CHAPTER 1
A Life Change — A Name Change
December 21, 1921
A thin young man walked hesitantly toward Jack, one of his gambling buddies. He expected the question he would be asked.
"Hi, H. B. Watcha doin' t'night?" his friend asked.
"For two cents, I'd go to that church in Youngsville where they're havin' some kind of special meetin's," was H. B.'s reply.
"Ya gotta be kiddin. H. B. wants to go to church? Now that's news! I thought you were a toughie?" Jack responded, in shock.
"Well, I'm curious about why just goin' to a church changed George, that fellow we used to see in the bars. He's really different. Told me he got saved. I want to find out why he did whatever it was he did."
"You really are serious, aren't you?" Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his hand, and said, "Okay, H. B., open your mitt. Here's your two cents."
He honestly didn't want to go to church. Maybe he was afraid. But now to keep his word H. B. had to go. By seven-thirty, he and two of his buddies were seated in the United Brethren Church in Youngsville, Pennsylvania. This felt strange since none of them had been in a church for years. They liked the lively music and tried to sing. The songbooks helped, since they did not know the songs. Mr. Thompson (they later learned he was a song evangelist) sang, "What If It Were Today?" It told of Christ's return to claim those who had been living for Him. Then, the evening message came that emphasized the hope of heaven for those forgiven and the eternal punishment for those living in sin. Recalling the wicked life he had been living the last six years, H. B. felt like he was suspended over hell.
It all started a few years earlier. His father had been a foreman in a chemical factory. One day a pile of one-hundred-and-thirty pound bags slipped and fell on him. His severe injuries followed by pneumonia, took his life.
At thirteen years of age H. B.'s life changed. The one who had been his guide, his protector and his teacher was gone. Within six months his mother had remarried. The next two years were a tug-of-war for him in their home. He did not get along well with his step-brothers, step-sisters or his step-father. One of his stepsisters got pregnant, so of course he was blamed, even thought he was not the guilty party. Finally, when he became fed-up with all the struggles, he left home around sixteen years of age.
Soon he began carrying a pistol, riding a stallion, shooting out street lights, drinking, smoking, swearing, and living a wild life. He slept in barns or stayed with relatives until he could earn enough money to rent a room at a boarding house. His Irish mother said to him, "Clesson, you're the black sheep of the family. Your murderous wild heart will cause you to kill someone, or you will be killed yourself. There's no question that you'll end up in prison, or possibly the electric chair."
All of this was going through his mind that night at church. He really did not need a preacher to remind him of his wicked life. These were the reasons he was called, "H. B". His life was a mess, and he was sick of living that way. For a long time he had tried to quit smoking because he could see what it was doing to his body. For a long time he had wished he could live a happy, peaceful life, like some people he knew. For a long time he had wondered if his life could ever be changed. Now, he began to understand that God did care for him and could do what had seemed impossible.
The congregation sang another song, and the preacher invited people who wanted their lives changed to come forward to the altar. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he was shaking. A couple of elderly ladies could sense that God was speaking to him. They came to him, kindly urging him to go forward, but he did not have the courage.
When the service was over, they quickly left as some of the church people went forward to pray with those kneeling at the altar. His buddies told him later that at least ten times he stopped walking and turned around toward the church as though he would return, but he did not go back. Finally, he got to his boarding house. When he got to bed, sleep evaded him. "I'm hanging over hell. If I die tonight, that's where I'd go," were his thoughts, continually.
In desperation he tried to pray. This was new to him, but God understood his sad and hungry heart. "If you let me live one more night, God, I'll go to the altar." (God did, and he did.) After making that promise, H. B. finally slept.
The next night it was the same kind of service, but H. B. was not the same young man who had come the night before. He was determined that no matter how much courage it took, he would head for the altar, as soon at the preacher gave the message and the invitation. When the congregation stood to sing the invitational song, he walked to the front of the church and knelt at the altar. This was his chance to dump all the filth in his life.
He had no idea how the process worked, but he believed God could change him. He knew God could free him from his slavery to Satan and to evil habits. He asked God to forgive him, to change him, and he promised to follow him. Within fifteen minutes he sensed he was free. What a wonderful feeling of relief and release! He got up, and sat down on a front seat.
Reverend Driscoll, pastor of the church said, "Young man would you like to tell us what God has done for you?"
H. B. had no idea how to tell what had happened to him, so he just said, "Well, boys, I was way down in sin, but the Lord has saved me." Too overcome with emotion to say anything more, he sat down.
What a change took place in his life! His addictions to gambling, smoking, drinking, and wild living were taken away instantly. Like George, he no longer frequented the bars. He quit smoking and toting a gun. His conversion took place nine days before his twenty-first birthday.
* * *
Doug's explanation of the initials H.B.
Dad spoke very little about his wild years before he became a Christian. He was not proud of those years. In 1944 he became a bi-vocational pastor, eventually living on property he and Mother bought. On Sunday he served rural Methodist congregations and during the week Larry was a mechanic at the Buckeye Coal Co. mine at Nemacolin. April 1st was Mitchell Day so it was a holiday for all miners. Dad would often take a trip to northern Pennsylvania to visit his family about this time. Some of those years his mode of transportation was a Jeep, an ideal vehicle for crawling over Greene County hills from one point of a pastoral circuit to another. But it was hardly the best transportation for a trip of...
