Who was Harry Morse ?

[seguidordejesus]

Originally Posted by Scott Pitta

On a whim, I decided to write the biography or discover who Harry Morse was. I wondered what impact he had on what I learned as a student at CLC. CLC was founded by Clyde Haney, a former student of Harry Morse.

At first, Harry Morse was a ghost. No one knew him. No one had written about him.

Those who did know him, his ministry peers, were also unknown people.

This was complicated by the fact that I had no skills in researching a biography.

Now, 7 years later, putting together a timeline for an unknown person, like Lemuel C. Hall is easy. I know where to look. I know how to save my data.

New data about Harry Morse is still coming in. Understanding the context of his life is a bit beyond my intellectual reach. I am no historian.

In the process I have put together timelines, biographies of a couple of dozen unknown Oneness Pentecostals. Some are mentioned by others, but no one has bothered to write their biographies.

I wrote the story of the spread of Pentecostalism from Los Angeles. Harry was not the first one to the San Francisco Bay area.

Harry was part of the Peniel Mission movement prior to Azusa Street. There is no written record of the Peniel Mission. So I ended up writing about it, at least in California.

Harry believed unique doctrines. But since he wrote very few articles, and since what he believed changed over time, documenting his theology is impossible. He was very open minded to the views of others.

Harry started and or pastored in British Columbia, Oregon and Idaho. His students started churches and pastored churches in California and the pacific northwest.

This project is a bit like writing a mystery. Each character has a different story. On a slow day, I can work on a mystery person. Or buy yet another obscure self published out of print Oneness book.

I do not conduct as many interviews as I did in the beginning. But I did do one the other day. Most data comes from online newspaper archives.

Eventually, the collections of unknown, or nearly unknown Oneness Pentecostals will be published. Included will be the relationship between the Peniel Mission and Oneness Pentecostalism, as well as the spread of Pentecostalism from Los Angeles to the San Francisco Bay area.

It will not be a rehashing of the same ideas and persons everyone else had done.

It's really come along! I forgot that you'd gone to CLC.

[Scott Pitta]

In her biography, Mattie Crawford said she was invited to Los Angeles. But she did not say who invited her. She went by train and visited a church called "Central Pentecostal Mission" but she did not say where it was located or the name of the minister.

Looks like she went there in 1921. But her biography does not give any dates. She may have visited Los Angeles earlier, say in the 1915-1919 period. Data is scarce for her movements prior to 1922.

Ewart and Roberts do not mention her in their magazines during that time period.

There were not many Oneness churches in Los Angeles during the 1915-1921 time period. I cannot find any church called "Central Pentecostal Mission" at all.

Mattie Crawford made it clear she was baptized in Jesus's name and filled with the Holy Spirit at this Central Pentecostal Mission.


The mystery continues....

[Scott Pitta]

1913 Arroyo Seco Camp meeting article.

5/7/1913 (Los Angeles Evening Post, p. 4) By Hugh Baillie.
Through the gloomy aisles of ghostly sycamore trees, in the thickly wooded arroyo, moaned a weird, sobbing wail. It rose to a piercing shriek, then died away in a heartbroken throbbing minor key. Twas like the plaint of a banshee, the despairing cry of a lost soul, wandering in space, desolate, lonely, forsaken.

We stopped, with the hair crinkling up on the backs of our necks, and the gooseflesh pricking our shoulders. Hesitantly we peered through the moonlit forest, with its flickering gasoline torches shimmering here and there like will-o-the-wisps. Not five minutes before we had stepped off a prosaic street car on a busy avenue, yet here we were wandering into an unknown world, stepping out of the twentieth century into the superstition of the middle ages.

Behind the arc lights twinkled, there was the distant clang of a bell, the foothills threw back echoes of a locomotive's puffing as it climbed the Chatsworth grade. Behind was the city.

Before was--what ?

A "holy roller" camp meeting. Something merely curious, and slightly amusing. That was what we thought. Yet that wail was neither curious nor amusing.

As we pressed forward through the night another sound became audible, monotonous, dirge like. It sounded like a savage chant, and swelled steadily in volume.

Truly a strange hymn for a religious service. When a dimly opaque tent loomed vaguely through the sycamores, the chant ceased. Suddenly another sound arose. A hundred voices broke forth simultaneously, evidently in terrible grief. A basso babble rumbled steadily through the wild chorus of screams, shrieks, mutterings, weeping, hysterical, frenied laughter, and above all, that banshee like, shuddering wail.

Had a ship been sinking with all hands, the proar on board could not have been more frantic, panic stricken, abandoned. We peered through the draped door, and beheld an extraordinary scene.

Men and women were groveling in the dirt, beating their heads on the earth, screaming. Others circled about

Men and women were groveling in the dirt, beating their heads on the earth screaming. Others circled about in a savage dance, arms stretched straight up, their eyes distended. On the platform a woman, pale and big eyed, sang a never ending refrain from some hymn. Her baby lay on the floor at her feet.

One thing stood out like a monument above this confusion. A little girl stood on a bench and stared around in frank wonder. Her mother alternately leaped in the air or groveled. There was nobody looking, so the little girl perked out her hair ribbons with feminine stealth.

That incident reminded us that we had not been swept away back to medieval ages or plunged suddenly into hades by some terrible power. We were still on earth, strange though it seemed, and the little girl was still human. She was too young to be swept away in the tide, like the five year old lad nearby, who beat his tousled head with two chubby fists and screamed "Glory" at the top of his healthy young lungs, while his mother and father joined in the wild dance.

A disheveled crone spied us at the door and leaped out, grinning. "Scoffers !" she shrieked above the din. "By coming here to stare you weld the bands of your sin 10 times tighter. The devil has you fast in his grip. I see his black shape sitting on your shoulders, and you cannot escape!"

"Look you and beware. The end of the world is at hand ! When the gift of tongues came to Brother Marshal today he foretold the end, and you scoffers cannot escape. I heard his strange language, and translated it. The signs and portents are here. Wars and rumors of wars. Disaster and calamity. Plague and famine. See yonder red star ? Tis the final sign..Even now the eternal fires of this earth are eating toward the surface, they rumble beneath the crust, they burn my feet.

Earthquakes are coming. This land shall crumble into the sea. Volcanoes in the ocean will cast up tidal waves to destroy, scalding waters will make New York’s skyscrapers fall. You will flee to the mountains, but they shall split apart, and sink into the hot flood, and you will be torn from your loved ones. Smoke will obscure the sun, and make it black as the pit, until the fire comes.

Then those who are saved will rise up, but you shall go down into the fiery cauldron, and sink, sink, sink in it, drowning and burning, but never dying. Down on your knees if you would escape.

Her voice cracked, and she danced away into the swirl.

Bill, he is a nerve specialist, grabbed my arm. “Let’s beat it” he gasped in my ear. “These people have nervous hysteria and it’s contagious”.

But the uproar had ceased as suddenly as it began, and inside the tent a little old woman was jumping up and down alone, hands upraised, gabbing thick guttural monosyllables. She had the gift of tongues. Urging her on, a bald headed chief priest ran excitedly up and down the platform, exclaiming at intervals: “Shoolah, shoolah, Maher Shalal Hash baz”

A young man on the platform apparently had St. Vitus’ dance in one arm, and it wriggled like a snake. An aged greybeard stood on his tiptoes, waved his arms and squealed, drivelling and weeping. Another laughed until the hiccoughs seized him, and he reeled out of the tent, gasping: “hee hee hah” with machine gun regularity.

Then a strange, rambling sermon was preached by a perspiring man with a chubby face. During it one man was seized with a fit of leaping 5 feet into the air, screaming “I’ve been blessed”.

He leaped thus across the platform, grabbed and kissed the preacher, burst into tears and fell limp into the sawdust. Another fellow was given the gift of tongues during the discourse, but as he babbled, the holy steam roller was trotted out, and the chairman told him to sit down or take the consequences. He sat muttering.

Afterward the "service' broke up into a scattered mass of hysterical people, while those violently seized adjourned to a smaller tent where they wailed and beat their heads on the ground to their hearts content.

It was late as we wandered away through the woods, the effect of the uncanny scenes and direful predictions of the crone weighing heavily upon us. We were far from the tent, when that weird banshee yell floated and throbbed through the trees ahead. Then came a savage, whooping chorus, such as Indians might make on the warpath. Presently it ceased, and a subdued muttering was audible near at hand.

A few steps, then a fat, black negress stood in the moonlight, her hands outstretched like a hypnotist. The light shimmered on her, and on the white women who danced and prostrated themselves before her. Strange memories of voodoo legends were recalled by that scene in the moonlight. The white women danced until one collapsed. Then two men came and carried her across the shallow stream, and the dance ceased.

We hurried on. Behind, far away, that lonely wail sounded once more. Then we stumbled out onto the road. An automobile roared up, honking, its searchlight sweeping the woods. A car rattled over a crossing, a motorcycle coughed, a dog barked in the distance.

We were back in the world again.

[Scott Pitta]

A couple of old songbooks by Thoro Harris came in the post. Some of the songs, or hymns were penned by Oneness composers.

Songs of Power book (1914) Edited by Harris, L. C. Hall and E N. Bell
L. C. Hall: Talk of his Power, Walking with Him, Behold the Lamb of God, What Did they Do ?

Other than Hall and Thoro Harris, there were no other songs composed by Oneness composers I am aware of. But 1914 is early for distinct Oneness music.


Apostolic Songs book (1932)
Harris: In Jesus Name, The Fullness of the Godhead, Baptized in Jesus Name, Jesus the Mighty God, Jesus is God,
George Farrow: All in Him. Copyright by Hall (1920)
L.C. Hall: My Prayer, He is Just the Same Today, My Bridegroom is Coming,
G. T. Haywood: These Signs Shall Follow Them (1914), Jesus the Son of God (1915)

The Pentecostal Flame (1925) songbook. Edited by Mattie Crawford

Joseph Reznicsek: Arise and Shine
G. T. Haywood: Coming as a Thief in the Night, These Signs Shall Follow Them, The Good Shepherd, I See a Crimson Stream
Pentecostal Revivalist (1920) Harris/McPherson

Haywood: Jesus the Son of God,
Herbert Buffum: I'm Going Through

Pentecostal Harmonies (1935) A.D. Gurley and W. E. Kidson
Joe Reznicsek: God Always Helps,
L.L.Ooton, No One Loves Like Jesus

There are no songs by Thoro Harris or G.T. Haywood in this songbook. Racism ?
Pentecostal Jewels (1945) edited by W.E. Kidson
George Farrow: All in Him
Herbert Buffum: I Still Believe It's True, If the Devil Would Stay Home,
L. C. Hall: In Him Dwelleth, What Did they Do ?,
L.R. Ooton, I Know Him, To Be Like Him, He's Coming After Me, Nothing I Want But Jesus,
G.T. Haywood: Coming as a Thief in the Night, Baptized into the Body, I See a Crimson Stream

[Scott Pitta]

Andrew Carl Baker first began pastoring in 1915 in the Portland, Oregon area. Apparently, he learned about the Oneness message via the writings of Frank Ewart. He also met Ewart when Ewart was travelling through Portland.

He pastored in Oregon City from 1915 until after WW2. I do not yet have all the timeline of his life collected. He was the foreign missions director prior to 1920.

I interviewed his descendant today and we are trading information about Andrew Baker in order to arrive at a better understanding of his life.

Baker knew Frank Ewart and Andrew Urshan. I am not sure if he knew the others like Harry Morse.

Today's interview went rather well. No one has researched Andrew Baker, so I will do what I can to see how he fits into the mosaic of early Oneness Pentecostalism.

[Scott Pitta]

A new book about an old evangelist came in the post today.

Andrew Urshan, a theological biography by Dan Segraves.

It has been a long time since I read a book by my old Bible college teacher. I have ever expectation it is well written.


Hopefully, it will have a few clues about the elusive Harry Morse.

[Scott Pitta]

Does anyone have any Andrew Urshan books for sale ??

Urshan books:
Pentecost as it was in the Early 1900's
Almighty God in the Lord Jesus Christ
Apostolic Doctrine of the New Birth
A Religious Timely Debate
Story of my Life
Supreme Need of the Hour
Timely Messages of Comfort
Why I was baptized in the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ in Russia
American-Assyro Unique Song Book
The Doctrine of Redemption and the Redemption of the Body
Life and Experiences of Andrew David Urshan
My Study of Modern Pentecostals
Timely Messages of Warning

I am not sure why most of his books are out of print.

[Scott Pitta]

In a 1963 General Conference sermon, Andrew Urshan stated he had the Oneness Revelation in 1910. He shared it with Haywood, Durham and Ewart, but they did not accept or understand it.

In 1913, when Urshan was in Persia, the revelation came to both Ewart and Haywood, along with many others.

Urshan also stated there were 3,000 in attendance at his 1918 meetings in Los Angeles.

Interesting testimony. I found 2 other sermon tapes of Urshan preaching, but no more historical data. Perhaps there are other Urshan tapes out there. Now just to find where......

[Scott Pitta]

2 books came in the post this week;

) The Baptism of the Holy Spirit by Mattie Crawford (1926) is a 160 page study of the role of the Holy Spirit in the chuch.

Pentecostal Melodies is a Oneness Hymanl published in 1930. It has 8 hymns by Ethel E. Goss, one each by Herbert Buffum, George Farrow and William C. Fisher.

4 hymns are by G. T. Haywood:
Haywood Coming as a Thief in the Night
Haywood Thank God for the Blood
Haywood Peace Thru thr Blood of the Cross
Haywood O Lord, How Long ?


34 songs by Thoro Harris and 28 songs by L. C. Hall.

They may be other Oneness contributors to the hymnal, but I did not recognize any of them. Nor do I understand why Buffum, who was as prolific as Harris and Hall only has one song in the book.

It certainly has more titles by L.C. Hall than any other of my early Oneness hymnals.

[Scott Pitta]

2 books came in the post this week;

The Baptism of the Holy Spirit by Mattie Crawford (1926) is a 160 page study of the role of the Holy Spirit in the chuch.

Pentecostal Melodies is a Oneness Hymanl published in 1930. It has 8 hymns by Ethel E. Goss, one each by Herbert Buffum, George Farrow and William C. Fisher.

4 hymns are by G. T. Haywood:
Haywood Coming as a Thief in the Night
Haywood Thank God for the Blood
Haywood Peace Thru thr Blood of the Cross
Haywood O Lord, How Long ?


34 songs by Thoro Harris and 28 songs by L. C. Hall.

They may be other Oneness contributors to the hymnal, but I did not recognize any of them. Nor do I understand why Buffum, who was as prolific as Harris and Hall only has one song in the book.

It certainly has more titles by L.C. Hall than any other of my early Oneness hymnals.