Issue date: November 18, 1998
As large as the congregation is now, it wasn't always that way. At several points in its history, Menlo Park Presbyterian has narrowly escaped being shut down when its congregation slipped to as few as seven members and funds became scarce. Volunteer historian Bill Russ, who has been affiliated with the church since 1966 and a member since 1969, underscored just how tenuous those early years were in a recent interview. And a to-be-published history of the church written by member Ruth DeVries is a collection of near misses and narrow scrapes, times when Menlo Presbyterian nearly closed its doors.
It wasn't until World War II that church membership really started expanding and the church that had been dependent on agencies outside itself -- the Presbytery, Jane Stanford, the U.S. Army -- became completely self-sufficient.
And in the past 25 years especially, the church has shown the vision, outreach, and financial power to contribute to both sacred and secular communities.
"It's a bit like the movie, 'It's a Wonderful Life,'" says Minister of Worship Doug Lawrence. "If you pulled Menlo Pres out of the equation, the community would be different. Not a world of debauchery, certainly, but I think Menlo Park would miss us."
In 1873, with eight men and five women for a founding membership and $50 to $75 coming from the home office each month as financial support, the church was established by the San Jose Presbytery. The church remained dependent on the Presbytery for the next 70 years, becoming self-supporting in 1943.
Of the "Founding Thirteen" members of the original church, Dr. Henry P. Coon emerged as one of the church's first leaders. A police judge and mayor of San Francisco, Dr. Coon took a gift from Thomas Selby of a one-acre site on the northeast corner of Santa Cruz Avenue and Chestnut Street and built a New England-style church there.
Over the next several years Dr. Coon established a board of trustees to figure out how to pay the building's $4,000 debt, and started a 35-member Sunday School.
In 1880 Jane Stanford arrived on the scene of what was then called "the little white church." Looking for a Sunday School for her son Leland, she found the church in "a very dilapidated condition" and was dismayed by the congregation's discordant singing. She personally supervised the construction of a new house for the minister and hired a music professor from nearby San Jose State Normal School (now San Jose State University) to teach church members how to sing. She pressed wealthy friends of the Stanford family, and their household staffs, to come to the church to worship. Membership swelled, as crowds came from Redwood City, Mayfield (soon to become Palo Alto) and the Menlo Park area. Families rented pews at $10 to $50 per year, though single pew sittings could be bought for $2 to $10 per session.
Not much survives of Jane Stanford's involvement with the church in this period, at least not physically: when son Leland died, Jane Stanford channeled her considerable energies toward building a university with its own church to honor him, the Stanfords transferred their allegiance from Menlo Park to what would become Palo Alto, and the glittery associates they had drawn to Menlo Park Presbyterian began worshipping elsewhere. You can still see the Stanfords' pew, which is preserved in the church's Pioneer Room, along with a seating chart with names of the other pew holders of the period.
In the 1890s -- 20 years after its founding -- the church was in trouble. Membership hovered around 15, just two more than the original founders. At least five times in the period between 1890 and 1917, the church closed for months at a time. Ironically, World War I was a boon to the church. The U.S. Army set up Camp Fremont -- a sprawling city of 6,000 canvas tents from El Camino Real to Alameda de las Pulgas and from San Francisquito Creek to Santa Cruz Avenue -- to train soldiers for service in France. The church ministered to them: two church services were celebrated on Sunday, and there were revival services on weekdays.
But when the war ended and the troops left, membership dropped to seven and the San Francisco Presbytery, which had acquired the church from San Jose, threatened to close it down. The Hostess House which had been constructed at the church site to entertain soldiers, was transported to Palo Alto, where it would become today's MacArthur Park restaurant.
Members John McBain and John Heltzel persuaded San Francisco not to close the church, but as the 1920s became the 1930s and the Great Depression rocked even rural Menlo Park, money was tight and the church was small.
Once again war came to the church's rescue. World War II sparked the 100-member congregation to community service, as the construction of Dibble Army Hospital (located in the area of Ravenswood Avenue and Middlefield Road) and the post-war construction boom brought more energy and more church members to the area. As membership swelled, church leaders found themselves "pioneering" ways to deal with the overflow. Pastors began calling on members at their homes and devising groups like the Men's Bible class, Mothers Together group, and chancel choir to keep members connected.
By 1948, the 450 members of the church had decided against building a bigger church on its old site, relocating instead to what was then the Jacob Carl Hagen property on the corner of Santa Cruz Avenue and Johnson Street. The old church was demolished: only the cross from the steeple and the original sign remain. The first on-site service took place on Thanksgiving Eve, 1949, and the church the Reverend Don Hall (1944-1958) was to call "the church of the pioneers" for its evangelical work and innovative ways of organizing its parishioners was born.
When the 1960s hit, the church was once again in turmoil. In the midst of social upheaval, church leadership chose not to take political stands. "It was a turbulent time," says Bill Russ, who has been connected to the church since 1966 and joined the congregation three years later. "There was a lot of division, but the church held fast."
In the last 25 years, the church has started a refugee and resettlement program, initially for Cuban and Dutch-Indonesian refugees who came to the Bay Area; increased its missionary activity abroad and contributed to area Presbyterian churches in Portola Valley and Redwood City; started a pioneering singles group which has grown from 35 to almost 500 members; and raised millions of dollars for its works.
The church also acquired Senior Pastor Walt Gerber, who came to Menlo Presbyterian in 1973 and is widely credited as being the visionary who leads and inspires Menlo Presbyterian today.
Pastor Gerber, a self-described "guy in a dirty uniform" who prefers to be called just "Walt," is said to be almost as self-effacing as he is respected by his staff. Under Walt's guidance, prayer is regarded as the engine that drives the church, members say, though the church's outreach programs are expensive and ambitious. When he came to Menlo Pres, Walt abolished the church's annual "every member canvas" which involved approaching each church member and asking for a pledge of money for the coming year. Instead, he insists that the church operate on a "faith budget," with each department praying that its financial needs be met.
By whatever means, human or divine, the needs are met. Last year the church gave almost $2 million to local, national, and international organizations. The Church of the Pioneers Foundation, a separate organization which helps fund the church, gave an additional $100,000. But members say, while Menlo Pres contributes much in material terms to the community outside its doors, it's not about the money.
"We are all broken people," Walt says, "and this is where we come together to be healed."
Harry Hawley agrees: "This is not a generic, fire-and-brimstone kind of leadership. It's just a very loving place where you listen to Walt's sermons and you go out thinking you can do things better, be better."
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