Section 4. LGHS and The Universal Life Church
I grew up during the 1960’s, that remarkable era of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll … as well as that old troublemaker, Kirby J. Hensley, of Modesto, CA. In 1962, Hensley, a Baptist preacher, founded the anti-establishment Universal Life Church (ULC). He delighted in confounding the authorities (the one quote of his I can remember was: “I’ve got them all scratching their heads”), and began ordaining ministers in the ULC by mail. You could become a regular minister for free (receiving a “Credentials of Ministry” card, see Fig. 3.4.1), while for $20 you would receive a Doctor of Divinity degree (D.D.) (with a booklet of ten lessons). It was suggested that, as a minister, one could hold services wherever one wished, and if you did it in your house, you could declare it a church, and take it off the tax rolls. You could officiate at weddings, and enjoy all the perks that other ministers enjoyed. So in 1968 or 69, both my brother Ned and I sent away for our certificates (Ned splurged for the DD as well) – Ned even ensured that “Rev.” was added to his first driver’s license. One evening he and a date were driving north on North Santa Cruz Avenue. A policeman pulled him over and asked for his license and registration. Ned had no idea he had done anything wrong, and gave me the documents. After looking it over, the cop said “Reverend, huh?” in a doubtful and amused tone. Ned nodded, “Yes, sir.” So after a reminder to drive carefully, the policeman returned to his car, and he drove off, without a blemish on his driving record.
Ned and I were also both intrigued that all of our grandparents originated from Lithuania, and proudly wore our 100% Lithuanian ancestry1. Ned was two years ahead of me in school, and in his senior year, he got together with a couple of friends and decided to spoof all the sit-ins and protests that were then so common. Under the banner of the Lithuanian Student Union/Universal Life Church, they came up with a list of 10 demands (alas, I no longer remember what they were, but half were devoted to LSU concerns, and the other half to those of the ULC). Ned donned a bathrobe with a hood (the one article of clothing of his that resembled a monk’s robe and cowl), and he and a small rabble marched into the main office, armed with the prop swords from that year’s Senior Play, intent on presenting it to the administration. However, once he actually got inside the office (with a steadily shrinking number of supporters behind him) he was stumped when confronted by a counter behind which a secretary stood, who politely asked if she could help them. That’s when the plan fell to pieces, as he expected to present the document to Principal Canrinus or other top official, and instead found himself blocked by a secretary safely ensconced behind an insurmountable barrier. So, he simply left the list of demands and quietly departed.
Thus passed the Lithuanian Student Union from the stage. But the Universal Life Church still had one last gasp.
Ned’s march on the administration struck a chord with me. The year following my brother’s ill-fated expedition, I decided to try my own hand at playing with suborning the system. But my plan didn’t involve acting in concert with others or confronting anyone: instead I simply wanted to ordain 10% of the students and faculty of the school in the ULC. I figured there were about 100 teachers and 2,000 students, so I needed to sign up 10 and 200 of each. Alas, I fell short of that goal, but I did net seven faculty members and a little over 100 students (Charles Estberg was holding out until I got ten teachers, hence he slipped my net). But this activity did lead to the bestowal of my moniker, Reverend Bob.
I kept a running tally of the ministers at the school – the final list appears in Appendix A. Some of these people got ordained on their own without my connivance, er, I mean assistance, but I personally ordained a sizable number of them, sending in their names to Modesto, and handing over their credentials once I received them.
Finally, there was another ULC prank pulled at the school. One day before first period, someone (possibly Rich Holmberg?), assuming I was in on the prank, congratulated me about the ULC flag hanging on the main building (the flag consists of two horizontal fields, one white symbolizing peace, the other gold symbolizing prosperity, although I can no longer remember which should be above the other). Well, I was nonplussed – I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. But I quickly went to the front lawn, and sure enough, you could see a portion of the flag hanging from the top of the building – unfortunately it was fairly windy day, and most of the flag had been blown back over onto the roof by the time I got there.
It was only later that Charlotte Croall told me she was in on the prank. Her mother was the one who sewed the flag. Kelly Haughton borrowed his father’s big truck to haul an extension ladder that they used to climb up to the roof of the band building, and three of them, Charlotte, Kelly and Scott King, made their way over to the main building. Charlotte was so proud that they did it all without anyone seeing them.
1 Although as we later discovered (see Chapter 1) our paternal great grandfather was probably of Russian extraction – he only lived in Lithuania.