1634: Turn Your Radio On (7 page)

As an afterthought, he added, "And remember to turn
your
radio on!"

Somewhere in the Voice of America Coverage Area

"Papa, Papa! Come, listen, I can hear something!"

Hermann got up from his breakfast table and went over by the window where his daughter sat on the floor playing with that stupid little rat's nest of wire and rocks. He should have never brought that broadside home from the CoC meeting. Taking the offered earpiece from his little girl's hands, he heard a very tinny sound distinguishable from behind the static. It sounded like singing.

Then, some real words, " . . . Brother Fischer . . . Grantville . . . Church . . . Listen to the Holy Spirit . . . Turn
your
radio on!"

"It's actually working!" he exclaimed. "God in heaven, this latest bit of American propaganda is actually working."

****

"Hans, I told you that we'd be able to pick up the American radio station sooner or later! When our first customers come in this morning, they will stay longer and order more food for their breakfast! We're going to get rich!"

Hanna had nagged her husband to buy the up-timer radio set shortly after their town bought a generator.

"What's the name of that pastor?"

****

"' . . . Brother Fischer . . . Grantville Pentecostal Church . . . Holy Spirit speaking to you right now. Let me remind you to turn
your
radio on!' . . . 'You're listening to Voice of America.'"

"Not one, but many voices! What will these Americans think of next?"

Johann decided that he really did need to take a pilgrimage into this Grantville place. His crop yield had more than doubled this harvest after an American master gardener had helped his village to improve their planting plans. The co-op that the CoC had helped him and his neighbors start up had resulted in the highest price that anyone in town could remember for their produce. And now this!

Johann smiled.
I really need to give back to these wonderful people somehow
.

****

"Did you hear the power in that voice, Catharina?" Constanzia Garb waved at the up-time radio that was one of the main attractions in the kitchen of their boarding house. "He was so good with the children too."

"He sounds like he's from Saxony, but there's something about the pacing of his words that's very . . . intriguing." Catharina Sulzer thought for a moment. "Constanzia, we might need to visit that church. It would be good research for your 'secret mission.'"

Both girls laughed. Constanzia replied, "Indeed. If it will keep you out of trouble with my stick-in-the-mud Uncle Emanuel, research is what it will be. But now we need to finish getting ready or we'll miss the trolley. And you know how the principal hates teachers who are late to their first class of the morning."

November 1633, Grantville, State of Thuringia, United States of Europe

Joellen Schwartz dabbed at the corners of her eyes, and amid scattered applause, sat back down at her table with her plaque in hand.

Turning to her neighbor, she said, "We really did do a lot of good in the last two and a half years. Look at you! You came in through the Grantville Ecumenical Emergency Relief Committee's refugee program. You've been a big help on the steering committee this last year, and now you're a minister and on the radio and everything. I'm so proud of you!"

Patting the last of his pie crumbs off his lips, Fischer replied, "Not on the radio permanently. I'm just filling in for Brother Chalker until he gets better."

"Well, I didn't hear it myself, but I don't know how many people have told me what a good job they think you did." Joellen squeezed Fischer's hand, "I think you have a talent for that kind of thing."

"Thank you, but it was just a little children's story told early in the morning."

****

Frowning, Helga sorted through the problem mail one more time. As if she didn't have enough problems with having to learn how to operate this new typewriting machine Mr. Grover had bought her and keeping up with all these dizzying projects that the company was working on. Now she was having to process mail for people she hadn't been notified of.

"Good morning, Helga!" Franz said as he came upstairs after finishing his morning shift.

"Good morning! Franz, you got a couple of letters from Bavaria today."

"Really? Let me see." Franz walked over and opened up the offered mail. "Someone must have mailed it from north of the Danube or west of the Lech." Tearing one open and reading it, he exclaimed, "They can hear me! All the way back home in Garching bei München, they can hear our broadcasts! This is amazing."

He ripped open the next one. "This is from one of my professors at the University of Ingolstadt! He said he couldn't believe it when he heard my voice on his new radio last Monday. We've got to tell Mr. Grover. Where is he?"

"Herr Grover is out of town this week. He's trying to get a new source of supply for something or the other." Helga pulled out her notepad. "I'll make sure he gets the message as soon as he gets back."

Thinking of her other problem, Helga asked, "Franz, by any chance do you know who this 'Der Fischer' person is? We've started receiving mail for him." She waved a small handful of letters to emphasize her point.

Franz looked puzzled, and then replied, "Yeah, that's the guy that did the morning devotional last Monday. Just put it in my box and when he comes back in, I'll give it to him."

With that, Franz walked out of the station lost in reading his unexpected fan mail. With nothing else to do with them, Helga dropped her handful of letters back into the half-filled mailbag of correspondence that this ‘Der Fischer’ had received in the morning's mail. Next to it sat another mailbag. It was full.

****

"You were right, Catharina. He is even more dynamic behind the pulpit than he is on the radio! I think it's the way he paces himself to that wonderful up-time cadence. It is quite mesmerizing."

"Yes, and what's more, he's single!" The girls laughed at the thought of competing for the hand of this very eligible young pastor. Catharina giggled. "But you know my father. He would have a fit if I told him I was seeing someone other than a Lutheran."

"But he
was
a Lutheran pastor," Constanzia objected. "Who knows if it might be that this Pentecostal thing is just a future version of our Lutheran church, or even Calvinist like my father. It certainly isn't Catholic, is it?"

"Up-time or not, I don't think my father would approve. He doesn't even like me to listen in on the morning radio devotionals except for the one on Saturday morning." Catharina furrowed her brow momentarily and then added, "But your father . . . He's much more modern. Look at how quickly he's adapted to the up-timers way of doing business."

Constanzia shrugged, "I don't know. Papa may not have objected to raising his children as Lutherans, but he's a real Calvinist at heart. Besides, unless we start coming regularly to this service, I'm not sure of how I could even meet this minister in person."

"Oh! That's the best part. Let me tell you about how they do Bible study!"

****

"Oh my!" Chalker repeated, as he laid aside the handful of opened letters he was holding to look up at the bundles of money neatly stacked on the table in his bedroom. He then marveled at the last remaining half-full sack sitting at its side. "Guilders and florins, dollars and ducats, scudos and pesos, marks and thalers, oh my."

When Fischer and the others had started opening and sorting the sacks of mail in the church office, they realized that it was too exciting an occurrence for Reverend Chalker to be able to just remain in his bed in the other room. He kept getting up and walking to the door, or just sitting up on the edge of his bed and craning his neck so he could see into the office a little bit better. Finally, giving in to the inevitable, they moved the money-counting operation into his bedroom so at least he could stay propped up in bed.

While Maria and Roy broke open the sealing wax to sort out whatever donations lay inside, Chalker, Fischer and Enriquez read the letters that had accompanied the monies.

Fischer had been told of the unexpected mail that day after his second morning radio devotional. He opened a few of the letters just outside the station as he sat in the church wagon. He was stunned to discover that most of them seemed to hold small sums of money.

From there, he had stopped by the house of church treasurer Roy Copenhaver to show him. Roy determined the best course was to open the remainder of the mail at the church. Before leaving however, he called Maria Kurger to join them. With all the transactions at Maria and Hans’ consignment emporium, Roy felt Maria would be good at figuring out how to value the different types of currency that were coming out of all the folded and wax sealed paper envelopes. Finally before continuing on, he sent his nephew Houston to Pete Enriquez's job sites to look for him as well.

"I guess we should have suspected something like this was going to happen after our church attendance the last two Sundays," Pete said. The first Sunday following Fischer's radio appearance had brought the largest number of new visitors to the service they had seen since the Ring of Fire. From the comments, it was clear that the brand new church building had played less a part in their decision to visit than the buzz over Fischer's radio devotional. Then the service yesterday had been standing room only, prompting the Elders to toss around the idea of moving to two services on Sunday mornings. If the attendance kept up, of course.

Occasionally, someone reading a letter would call out that this one must be heard, "Thank you, Father Fischer. I thank God so much for bringing you on this radio. My precious twins recently died in childbirth. The priest here in town told me that my babies would not go to heaven since the Mother Church had not baptized them. When I heard your wonderful children singing how Jesus loved the little children, I knew that my babies would be safe."

Then Fischer read another. "Pastor Fischer, this one thaler note is all I can afford to give. I just had to thank you for the strength you brought me. I work in a shop cutting fabric so the new sewing machine can stay busy. They pay us by the piece, which should make us more, but the owners keep lowering what we are paid per piece as we do more. Please pray for me."

Chalker spoke up, "'This poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living.' Mark 12:43-44.

"It's herself and her everlasting soul she's giving to, not us."

Fischer nodded in agreement. Then with a frown, he added, "Peter, isn't Heinrich Mann involved with the Committees of Correspondence? Maybe we should ask him to see what they can do in this situation. This sounds like a union problem to me."

After Maria finished recounting the last of the gifts and double-checking her figures on the back of an opened envelope, she announced her totals. "Of course, we'll have to pay five percent to the bank to have all these other currencies converted into dollars."

"That's more than we receive in a whole month!" Chalker said in amazement.

Roy added, "The five percent alone is more than we collected the whole month following the Ring of Fire. Maybe there's a way I can convince the bank to give us a better rate. This new government job in Franconia ought to get me some pull over there."

Fischer just sat there, never taking his eyes off the letters. He became aware that the others kept glancing over at him with widened eyes. Finally he said, "We must all give our thanks to the Lord for this bounty He has blessed us with."

Nodding, Chalker began, waved the letters he held in his hand for emphasis, "These people, they are hungry for the same thing all mankind is hungry for, the love of the Almighty. They've been displaced by this war. They've lost loved ones, sometimes to both sides, been kicked out of their homes, had their crops burned or taken, and no politician allies with
them
."

Chalker sat up and brushed some of the broken sealing wax off his bedspread, then raised his voice. "It was the same back in the Depression. People kicked out of their homes and off their farms. Their jobs being taken away and their banks closed. That was the time that the Pentecostal movement made its greatest strides! Hundreds came to the revival tents! Thousands were healed! Millions were saved! The harsher the economy and the oppression, the greater was the need for a higher power to intervene."

After a few moments, he added, "I think we need to get ourselves a radio show."

All conversation stopped as they turned to listen to the suggestion of their senior minister.

"Remember back up-time, all the television evangelists? There used to be whole cable channels full of them. Pat Robertson, Jim and Tammy Bakker, Jimmy Swaggert, bunches of them. Back when I was growing up, the same thing happened with radio. I remember there were churches that even owned their own radio stations." Pausing to think over where this thought was leading him, he then continued, "Listen to me. Do you all understand, I mean really understand how we've managed to survive and grow since the Ring of Fire?

"Of course through the Lord's will, but God helps those who help themselves. What I did was gather together the faithful and combine the Good News with good music and camaraderie and the kind of family fun that makes the experience of coming to church something most people look forward to. That's what we've got to hold out to all the folks who can listen into the radio. Something that will make them tap their toes and shake their heads and laugh." Chalker grinned. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar!

"Brother Fischer, get with Elder Copenhaver and Sister Kurger. See what you can come up with to fill up a radio program of our own." Chalker turned to Roy. "Deacon Copenhaver, can you put together a proposal to take to the radio station to buy some time for the show? We'll all get back together Friday and go over what we've got done then."

****