Flatlander Faith

Apologetics from an Anabaptist perspective

Tag Archives: Methodist Church

Haircuts and history

From December 1975 to June 1978 my wife and I lived in the upstairs suite in my parents home in Moose Jaw. I mostly went downtown to Jake Folk to get my hair cut. On occasion I went to Harold’s Hair Inn, just a block and a half from home. Despite the fancy name it was an ordinary barber shop where Harold Willfong gave the fastest haircuts in town.

In 1978 we moved to Ontario. When we came back to Saskatchewan 20 years later we settled in Saskatoon, but my Mom was still living in Moose Jaw. She was 90 years old by now and I made frequent visits to check up on her.

This was often an opportunity to get a haircut. Harold’s Hair Inn had moved to the basement of the Co-op shopping centre and Harold was semi-retired, only cutting hair three days a week. The other three days the cutting was done by another barber of the same age.

After a year or so we realized Mom couldn’t live on her own anymore and moved her to Saskatoon to live with us. That ended my Moose Jaw haircuts. Until Tuesday of this week.

We were in Moose Jaw for the funeral of a 94-year-old cousin and I hadn’t had time to get a haircut before going. The phone book said that Harold’s Hair Inn was still in the Co-op basement. This couldn’t possibly be the same Harold, he was already an old man the last time he gave me a haircut 18 years ago.

I went to the Co-op, walked down the stairs and looked in. It was the same Harold. He has to be at least 85 years old now. He’s not as fast as he used to be, but I got the best haircut I’ve had in years.

And we visited. Harold’s father was a half-brother to Art Wildfong, born at Hespeler, Ontario in 1895 and one of the pioneers of the Craik area where I grew up. Art Wildfong’s descendents still live and farm there.

Going even farther back, in the 1860’s there was a church of the Evangelical denomination located on the farm of John Hamacher near Baden, Ontario. John Hamacher’s wife was a Wildfong. Her neice, Susannah Wildfong, was married to Peter Wenger. The Wengers were also members of the Evangelical denomination. This was basically a German-language Methodist group, as the Methodist Church required all congregations to use the English language exclusively.

At some point in the late 1860’s Peter Wenger and his wife joined the Church of God in Christ, Mennonite. They moved first to the congregation at Wakarusa, Indiana. Then in 1874 they, and most of the Wakarusa congregation, moved to Hesston, Kansas, becoming the first congregation in that state. There are many descendents of Peter and Susannah Wenger in the church today, including a number of ministers.

Years ago I went to the Mennonite Historical Library in Waterloo and searched Ezra Eby’s Biographical History of Waterloo Township. That book says the Wildfong family came from Germany and were originally of the Moravian faith. I wonder if Harold knows anything about the family history that could connect the Wildfongs and Willfongs who came to Craik with Susannah Wildfong? I need to go back sometime for another haircut.

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I’m on my way to the freedom land

As a slave, Josiah Henson received no formal education and did not learn to read and write. As is typical of people from oral cultures, he had a prodigious memory and could remember every Bible verse he ever heard. He was ordained to the ministry in the Methodist Church while still a slave, serving mostly his fellow slaves.

Twice he was able to raise the money to purchase his freedom, but due to Josiah’s illiteracy, his master found a way each time to cheat him of his freedom. After the incident mentioned in a previous post where he had been tempted to murder his young master, his master fell deathly ill and Josiah nursed him back to health. This bought him a little time, but before long he learned that his master had plans to sell him, his wife and their children separately. Up to this time, Josiah had considered himself honour bound to remain with his master, but now he finally became willing to take his family and attempt to escape to Canada.

It was on a Saturday night in September of 1830 that Josiah, his wife and their four children set out to walk to Canada. Josiah knew that it would be several days before they were missed and determined to get as far away as they could in that time. They travelled at night and hid by day, eventually making it to Ohio where they encountered people who helped them make the rest of the journey.

There never was a plantation system in Canada such as the one in the U.S. south, but slavery was not officially abolished in Canada until 1833. Still, Canada was the land of hope to those bound in the oppressive slavery of the south. Some of the songs they sang had a double meaning, such as “I’m on my way to the freedom land.” Canada was a safer place for black people, not because Canadians were better people, but because the laws were better. An escaped slave was not safe anywhere in the USA. If found, he could be captured and returned to his master. There were even cases of free blacks being captured and sold into slavery. Few white judges and juries would take the word of a black man against the word of a white. Slave hunters did venture into Canada, but were arrested, hustled back across the border and warned not to return.

The underground railway was just beginning in 1830 and the Henson family avoided human contact as much as possible until they neared the lake that stood between them and Canada. Here they encountered some sympathetic Indians who fed them, gave shelter for the night and directed them on their way the next morning. Then Josiah met a ship’s captain at Sandusky, Ohio who sent a boat for the family after dark, took them to Buffalo and paid the ferry to take them across the river into Canada.

” When I got on the Canada side, on the morning of the 28th of October, 1830, my first impulse was to throw myself on the ground, and giving way to the riotous exultation of my feelings, to execute sundry antics which excited the astonishment of those who were looking on. A gentleman of the neighbourhood, Colonel Warren, who happened to be present, thought I was in a fit, and as he inquired what was the matter with the poor fellow, I jumped up and told him I was free. “O,” said he, with a hearty laugh, “is that it? I never knew freedom make a man roll in the sand before.” It is not much to be wondered at, that my certainty of being free was not quite a sober one at the first moment; and I hugged and kissed my wife and children all round, with a vivacity which made them laugh as well as myself. There was not much time to be lost, though, in frolic, even at this extraordinary moment. I was a stranger, in a strange land, and had to look about me at once, for refuge and resource. I found a lodging for the night; and the next morning set about exploring the interior for the means of support.”

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