A House Divided...

An unfortunate enmity grew between Michael Downing and me. I want to believe that I was not responsible for this, but I also know that it is a subject about which I cannot be objective. I’m sure that the truth is that we were both responsible, and we should both be ashamed of ourselves.

My guess is that the average person doesn’t really know a whole lot about the inner workings of the church, and probably isn’t too bothered by that. From a political perspective, the church isn’t significantly different from other human institutions. The pyramid paradigm works well to illustrate the very few at the top who actually have influence over the governance of the organization, while the increasingly large base represents a proportionate disinterest in the affairs of the institution by those who in some way identify themselves as belonging. In other words, my estimate is that two-thirds of any congregation is only nominally involved, and of the remaining third perhaps ten percent are actively engaged in the work of the church through its committees, councils, etc.

Ideally, a strict application of the process outlined in the Discipline of The United Methodist Church would democratically involve the majority of members of a local church. In practice, it is more often than not a backroom, good-old-boy, tit-for-tat enlistment of those with a hunger for power that can’t be satiated by more appropriate means. Consequently, a status quo comprised of an extremely small number of people who determine the direction for the rest of the church emerges. The pastor-in-charge significantly influences which of these two methods is employed, and my observation is that the majority of pastors prefer to keep a tight grip on the process to ensure that they are working only with like-minded supporters (think the George W. Bush White House).

Michael wasted no time gathering together his group, and he was cunning in his ability to cut the little deals that defined if someone was with or against him. His biggest problem was his diplomatic ineptitude which resulted in the serious alienation of those who were not “on his side.” He rather arrogantly flaunted his chosen ones to the growing distress of those, including me, who realized that they were intentionally being excluded from the decision making process. In local United Methodist churches there is an annual Charge/Church conference at which the various board and committee members are elected. Michael failed to achieve a popular consensus within the congregation-at-large, and the result was a number of church officers who were elected that were not from his inner circle. I will never know if Downing was actually smart enough to have done it on purpose, but intentionally or unintentionally he succeeded in dividing an already fragile congregation.

This miscalculation became most readily apparent with the Staff-Parish Relations Committee (the “human resources” department of the local church). In the course of covering up the Smith/Altman debacle, Bishop William Dew, District Superintendent Thomas Mattick, and Senior Pastor Michael Downing were all less than truthful in their dealings with the S-PRC. There was ongoing concern about Linda Petty’s complicity in Altman’s misdoings, and Michael was not discrete about his intentions to terminate her employment, as well as the Director of Music, Raymond Barnes (Raymond had done nothing wrong; his style just didn’t appeal to Michael). Petty’s predicament was compounded by her direct involvement in the selection of the new pre-school director who in short order absconded with more of the church’s money. The S-PRC (which was composed of far more novice members than the Discipline properly applied would have allowed) was beginning to doubt Downing’s ability to effectively administrate. His lack of experience was making mine look impressive by comparison, and my willingness to cooperate with the committee rather than direct it to do my bidding resulted in a process of natural selection that was in my favor.

Our Own Little Trinitygate

My law enforcement experience definitely influenced my feelings about how Rick Altman should be dealt with. There was ample evidence of criminal behavior ranging from fraud and embezzlement to statutory sexual assault on minors (male and female). Since our strategizing for how to approach the Altman mess took place during the early “honeymoon” period, Michael Downing initially seemed to respect my opinions on the matter. What I didn’t realize at the time was that Downing was also establishing his turf with regard to the new district superintendent, Tom Mattick. Mattick was a representative of the annual conference, more specifically the bishop, William Dew, and it eventually became clear that the three of them were going to be complicit in covering up the whole affair. There was, of course, Don Smith’s collusion with Altman that also had to be swept under the carpet because he remained in the active ministry at a new appointment. As far as the local church was concerned, everyone from the church treasurer to the chairperson of the Staff-Parish Relations Committee was in danger of being entangled in the scandal if it ever came to light.

Downing acted decisively when it was determined that Altman would be terminated. There was no question in anyone’s mind that Linda Petty was deeply involved, and Michael cautioned her not to communicate with Altman prior to his dismissal. Rick showed up for work that morning and was immediately confronted by Michael who instructed him to turn in his keys and to leave the premises. Downing and I then entered Altman’s office—which Rick had always carefully kept locked—to discover falsified statements for thousands of dollars worth of reimbursement, pornographic literature, and, most disturbing, a map of the various places on the church campus—including the altar—where Altman had either encouraged youth to engage in sexual intercourse or had himself participated. I remained firm in my conviction that the authorities needed to be involved and that criminal charges needed to be filed against Altman. As Downing learned that in order for the church’s insurance to cover the financial losses police reports would first have to be made, he leaned in that direction. Mattick, however, in consultation with Preston Howard, an attorney and former chairperson of the Staff-Parish Relations Committee, quashed any efforts to pursue the matter legally for fear of airing Trinity’s dirty laundry in public.

Downing took it upon himself to personally counsel the families that had been affected, in large part to seek their agreement to keep quiet about what they knew. The Petty family, long-time Trinity members, began soliciting support from old-timers to counter what appeared to be the inevitable firing of Linda. Mattick and Downing (and I have to assume that Dew was directing things from Phoenix) effectively orchestrated a cover-up that left many in the congregation wondering what the hell was going on, while those who knew were entering a hell of their own making. My very existence was becoming problematic.

Let the Holy War Begin

I am finding another tactical change to be necessary. I am beginning to realize that my saga has reached the point that it is painfully subjecting me to a form of daily stress that really isn’t healthy. Therefore, I am going to try to knock out “the rest of the story” as quickly as I can. This way, I will be able to observe the upcoming Holy Week in ways that will hopefully be more meaningful.

My life experience with superiors in general has proven to be adversarial, but my relationship with Michael Downing, Thomas Mattick, and William Dew was incredibly so, beyond my wildest imagination particularly since it occurred within the context of my beloved United Methodist church.

Downing considered himself to be a “big idea” kind of guy, and when this was imposed upon a congregation that was not that far away from meltdown, it had caustic results. The “honeymoon” of the first few weeks exposed a parish desperate for loving, healing, but most of all genuine fidelity. A veil of deceit and betrayal started to lift as Don Smith left and Michael arrived. A number of parishioners expressed to me their great hope that Michael and I were going to evolve into the co-pastoral team that would put Trinity back on the path of spiritual faithfulness. It didn’t take long, however, for Michael to reveal his grandiose egotism, a personality that had no room for traditional staff, much less an older and more experienced associate.

The Discipline of The United Methodist Church does allow for the appointment of “co-pastors” to a single charge. It is rarely done, and when it is it is usually to accommodate a clergy couple. Trinity’s Staff-Parish Relations Committee did not have a disciplinarily correct understanding of a co-pastorate but used the term to signify their hope that Michael and I would share equally in the congregation’s pastoral leadership. I have tried to be clear in explaining why such a concept was absolutely, unequivocally unacceptable to Downing. His co-pastor was his wife, Nancy (who was primarily responsible, as I understand it, for Michael’s decision to enter the ordained ministry), and the two of them had no practical knowledge of how to include others in their imperial quest.

A review of my first few entries in this series will show that my father played an incredibly significant role in the formation of my impressionable understanding of what theology, religion, and the church are all about. Of these, one fundamental of being ministerial stood out: Thou shalt not form personal friendships with parishioners because of the potential damage that it could do to one’s objective and impartial ministry to the whole congregation. This I believed. I believed it so strongly, in fact, that it seemed improper of those pastors who would intentionally engage in such behavior. The trouble was that when the overwhelming majority of clergy saw the “buddy” approach to congregational interaction as perfectly acceptable, my conviction disadvantageously placed me in a distinct minority.

Thus the “battle of the pastors” at Trinity began. At the risk of sounding a braggart, I genuinely saw it as my pastoral responsibility to minister to the whole congregation. Michael, on the other hand, immediately set about forming personal relationships with those he perceived could be used to his advantage. This perspective, of course, generalized to Downing’s relationship to staff. Having had no practical experience with a staff (other than as a student associate while he was in seminary), Michael was prone to one-on-one’s in his office while the rest of an already paranoid staff were left outside wondering what was happening in the senior pastor’s office.

As I was subjected to these exclusive encounters, Michael’s understanding of my role in his scheme of things began to emerge. When you consider that a United Methodist pastor vows to put the needs and concerns of the community of faith ahead and above of her or his own, it is (at least to me) quite unbelievable that our relationship quickly devolved into the semantics of what differs between an “assistant” versus an “associate”. Michael recognized that Rick Altman had served as Smith’s ex officio assistant, and since one of his first objectives was to get rid of Altman it made sense, I guess (in a very convoluted way), for him to think of me as Rick’s replacement. Michael’s charge to “straighten things out” at Trinity was coming from the district/conference, and with the hierarchy’s backing he really didn’t have to worry about the wishes and the desires of the local congregation—certainly not with regard to having to work with an associate that many parishioners regarded as his equal.

While Altman was justifiably at the top of Downing’s “hit list”, Director of Education Linda Petty and Director of Music Raymond Barnes were next. The church secretary that had been at Trinity for several years before my arrival moved on (and up) to be Nate’s secretary in the district office, a position that she continued in as Mattick replaced Holt. The founding director of the preschool was ready to retire, and this basically left Michael looking at a clean sweep that included me. In his opinion no one was better suited to the single-handed repair of Trinity than he, and it was just a matter of implementing his “buddy system” to place supporters in key positions that would eventually sing praises of his glory and honor. Naturally, when I was sitting across the desk from Downing I was his closest confidant, but I knew full well that I was immediately replaced by whoever met with him next.

Finding the Center of the Universe

Marrying my sister convinced me of Kirby’s impeccable judgment of character, and so I was keenly interested in his reaction to meeting Michael Downing. “That guy’s a phony.” Truer words have never been spoken. This journal sometimes seems to me an exercise in hyperbole, but Downing was the epitome of egotism. It never once crossed his mind that he had anything other than absolute truth at his disposal, which validated his notion that he was God’s gift to the planet Earth. Michael was a second-career pastor—having been born-again following a stint surveying northern Arizona—and came to Trinity having served only one other appointment: Sedona, Arizona. His only experience with a staff had been as a student associate while he was attending the Claremont School of Theology, but that lack never once caused him to doubt that he knew everything there was to know about administration and preaching. His only real competition was his new district superintendent, Tom Mattick, but I don’t think that the two of them ever put together the pieces of the puzzle explaining why they didn’t particularly care for each other: there can only be one center of the universe, and each was convinced he was it. Michael’s arrival triggered a vague sense of panic throughout the Trinity congregation (less vague for staff members Altman and Petty) because consciously or unconsciously it was known that Smith et al had been engaging in some very untoward, if not illegal, conduct. The jig was up, so to speak, and Michael arrived with the blessing of the annual conference and the charge to clean up Smith’s mess. As someone who had been intimately involved with The United Methodist Church my entire life, Downing seemed a strangely inexperienced choice for the assignment, but I was still loyal enough to the general church to accept that the hierarchy knew what it was doing.

PS A little aside to reveal just how incestuous the UM church in Las Vegas is: Michael’s previous district superintendent was the Reverend Larry Gerber (whom I later learned was principally responsible for promoting Downing’s appointment to Trinity) who had himself served as senior pastor of Trinity. Remember the parishioner in Omaha who, for whatever reasons, confessed to me her affair with a Trinity pastor? By my deductions, Charlotte and Larry were both at Trinity during that time.

Let's Play Fruit Basket Upset

There probably was a time in the history of Methodism that the frequent rotation of pastors in order to keep charges filled was necessary. But like so many instances of bureaucratic institutionalization burying practical origins beneath layers of self-serving hierarchy, the changing of pastoral appointments by bishops and their cabinets has become a tool for retaining power in the denomination’s current practices. While it did manage to pawn Don Smith off on an unsuspecting congregation in Bullhead City, Arizona, the replacement of the entire cast of players in the summer of 1997 accomplished little other than to foil any attempts to legitimately prosecute the multitude of infractions so insidiously woven into Trinity’s congregational fabric. Bishop William W. Dew, Jr. had assumed the unenviable task of following Bishop Elias G. Galvan as head of the Desert Southwest Annual Conference (Galvan had served an extraordinary 12 years since the inception of the Desert Southwest; most bishops serve two four-year terms). The Reverend Thomas G. Mattick replaced Nate as the North District Superintendent, and even though the plan at the local level had apparently been to replace Don with me, such a notion was just further evidence that the Trinity congregation didn’t have an inkling about UM polity. Nate apparently did inform Preston Howard that such a “promotion” was unthinkable, but being finally convinced that Don must go Nate agreed to arrange for a senior pastor that was better suited to Trinity’s temperament. I probably should have more seriously considered Nate’s offer to have me appointed to Las Vegas First UMC (a dying downtown church that is now a Manpower center), but I somehow fancied myself as owing something to Trinity as it faced a time of tumultuous change. So it was that I was introduced to my new “colleague”, the next senior pastor of Trinity United Methodist Church: The Reverend Michael R. Downing.

While the Cat's Away...

The Nate I left in Flagstaff was not the same Nate I met in Las Vegas. The same was true for me, I’m sure. The North District of the Desert Southwest Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church was a rough assignment for the D.S., no doubt about it. Covering a geographical area that included northern Arizona and the southern tip of Nevada (Clark County) plus three river towns in California, just the logistics of traveling from one parish to another was daunting. Added to this was the fact that there were no really large congregations in the sparsely populated area. Trinity Heights in Flagstaff, and University and Trinity in Las Vegas, were the only churches that had memberships in the 750 range. And yet, UM polity required the district superintendent to make the rounds of each and every parish at least once a year. To have been a pilot with a plane would have been nice, but Nate and Alita did it in their little Ford Escort, a feat of which even Francis Asbury would have been proud. The down side to all this was that Nate wasn’t able to pay very close attention to each church individually and with the exception of Don Smith’s complaint about John Cox’s lackadaisicalness, Trinity was all but being ignored by the very hierarchy that should have been keeping track of what was going on there. And so, when I came to Nate with my list of concerns that included everything from misuse of church funds to sexual improprieties he was at once both perplexed and unconvinced. I’ll never forget the meeting he arranged with Don, himself, and me at Trinity. Meeting in the annex which had been taken over by Rick and his now gang-like youths, Nate asked Don point blank if there was anything to the allegations I was making. Red with anger, Don denied everything and accused me of trying to ruin his ministry and his wish to retire from Trinity. Unfortunately for Don, Rick’s timing couldn’t have been worse as he secured a high-interest loan on a used 15 passenger van, apparently on his signature alone by representing himself as a clergyman appointed to Trinity! (I still cannot believe that he was working by himself.) In combination with all the other shenanigans that Rick had been pulling off under Don’s “supervision”, Nate had little choice but to approach the Staff-Parish Relations Committee to “consult”.

The Pied Pipers of Las Vegas

There are times when it seems that Rachel and Rebecca do not agree on anything, but I suspect they both can agree that I was a very protective father—perhaps overly so. It would be interesting to me to learn whether or not their young memories made any sort of association between our move to Las Vegas and my increasingly strict bearing. Such is my recollection. It didn’t take me long after being appointed to Trinity to realize that Rebecca was within the age range for Don Smith’s predatory inklings, and Rick Altman’s attraction to teenagers put Rachel just ready to cross that threshold. Indeed, Rick’s charismatic charm was being insidiously employed to draw the church’s youth away from the congregation into an almost cult-like program that condescendingly berated both Don and me as hopelessly out of touch with the times. I was confused by Don’s knowing acceptance of Rick’s actions until it finally dawned on me that the two of them were perfectly complementing each other’s perversions. Don was giving up the youth in trade for eyes turned away from his fondness for children. By the time Rick was conducting marathon “interventions” with small groups of youths behind his locked office door as Don and Linda Petty (whose own son was a participant) looked on, I realized that my discovery was going to have to be brought to the attention of authorities beyond the local church. What hurt the most as I went to District Superintendent Nate Holt with my observations was fearing that our impressionable daughters, who were for the fifth time in their young lives trying to fit in and make a whole new set of friends, would innocently believe the venomous lies about me that Don and Rick were generating in their defense.

Is This Really Happening?

Rick Altman was the first one to tell me that I was being “groomed” as Trinity’s next senior pastor. This was so out of order in so many ways that at first I couldn’t even believe that he was saying it. After overcoming the initial shock, I approached Don Smith on the basis of not having a very good feeling about Rick and wanting to know why he had been placed on staff in such a hurry. I was hoping for a discussion between the senior pastor and his newly appointed associate about the improprieties that seemed to be gathering around the new hire, but among Don’s many shortcomings was his complete state of denial. While I did not—at this early stage of our working relationship—tell him verbatim what Rick had told me, I wondered if he nevertheless sensed something because he was very deliberate in telling me that he planned to retire from Trinity. My next course of action was to approach Preston Howard as chairperson of the S-PRC to express my concern. Preston surprised me in a couple of different ways. First, he said that the S-PRC had also not been comfortable with Rick’s being hired so suddenly but that Smith was so uncharacteristically insistent upon it being done that the committee acceded. Secondly, and far more surprising to me, was Preston’s matter-of-fact statement that Rick was probably just repeating what he had already heard: that the S-PRC was unhappy with Don’s leadership (or lack thereof) and that when I was interviewed weeks earlier it was with an eye to me as his replacement. I was beginning to realize that this Las Vegas church had become so estranged from the Annual Conference and the General UM Church as to have lost touch with reality.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Warren and Mattie Jean Petty, members of Arvada United Methodist Church, had a son, Jim, and two effervescent daughters, Linda and Kathy. I had crushes on both Linda, who was a year older than me, and Kathy, who was the same age as me. So much time has passed that I can’t really remember if the infatuations were consecutive or concurrent. We were all active in youth group, and Linda headed off to Nebraska Wesleyan University a year before Bob, Paul and I. Linda and I were friends at NWU, but nothing more, and the last I heard from her she was headed for the Iliff School of Theology in Denver to pursue work in the area of Christian education.

So, it was no little surprise to learn that one Linda Petty was the Christian education director at Las Vegas Trinity. It was even more of a surprise to learn that it was not the same Linda Petty. Trinity’s L.P. was anything but bubbly, and not knowing of the association I had made from my past she felt no compunction to be the least bit friendly. Indeed, most of the Trinity staff seemed to feel that John Cox had gotten a raw deal (which he had) and may have resented my appointment as some sort of contrivance between Nate Holt and me. I still don’t know what the connection between Rick Altman and Petty was, but it didn’t take long to realize that they were in cahoots in their undermining all things conference related in order to strengthen their position locally. That I expressed a real interest in religious education did nothing to enhance my standing with Linda or Rick.

Throughout this “journal” I have made reference to the United Methodist tax known as “apportionments”. Anyone who has endured each entry has probably realized that apportionments have a way of affecting the relationship between the local church and the annual conference. This was especially true at Trinity because of its preschool, a virtual institution in west Las Vegas. The preschool was the money maker, and the church had been cooking the books for a lot of years to keep the enterprise’s income hidden from the conference. The arrogant disdain held for Las Vegas’ churches by the rest of the conference only made this easier. Understandably, then, to have the D.S.’s “boy” appointed as the new associate raised red flags for all those who had survived numerous pastoral appointments.

What no one understood, including myself, was that Nate wasn’t even remotely interested in what was going on at Trinity. Only later did I learn that his obsession had become the persecution of the openly gay Metropolitan Church that was attempting to establish itself at one of Las Vegas’ struggling UM churches. Saul’s persecution of the early Christians paled by comparison to Nate’s single-minded routing of the effort. At any rate, there was justifiable concern among the Trinity staff that, while Don Smith had just affably gone along with anything if it meant getting to hold a young child on his lap, I might really throw a wrench into the works. And Trinity’s L.P. was up to her neck in complicity.

Are Jekyll and Hyde Ever Seen Together?

I thought my years in law enforcement had pretty well exposed me to con artists and wheeler-dealers, but I have never encountered the likes of Rick Altman before or since my brief stint at Trinity. Charisma is difficult to define, but it is very obvious when it is present. Rick had the ability to cast spells that easily seduced those around him, me included. His adeptness for name dropping was truly remarkable. Rick had me (and many others) believing that he was personally acquainted with higher powers in the UM church, as well as prominent figures in Las Vegas. I’ve already mentioned Don Smith’s passive/aggressive nature, and Rick perfectly complemented this personality by essentially acting as the church administrator on Don’s behalf. The parsonage renovation project had been “assigned” to Rick prior to our arrival from Nebraska, and he was almost manic in his pursuit of subcontractors for carpeting, painting, etc. The remodeling became so ambitious that it was taking much longer than Preston Howard had imagined it would, and that’s how we ended up in one of those rent-by-the-month apartments (again, arranged by Rick). Our belongings had to be put into storage and then moved again when the house was finally finished, and it was at this point that I began to wonder about Rick’s apparent carte blanche with regard to church funds. No one seemed to be keeping track of his expenditures except him, and his cavalier attitude about spending would have been very foreign to any congregations I had been a part of up to that point. If pressed, Rick would simply say that he was doing Don’s bidding. And if you asked Don, well, he would just say that Rick was doing what he was supposed to.

On Applying for Section Eight

During the first wave of scandals involving parish priests, I wrote TIME magazine to express my opinion that the problem was not exclusively Roman Catholic. I’m pretty sure that the reason it was never printed was because I failed to send it correctly. It is no secret that United Methodist clergy have been free to drink, smoke and divorce more freely over the past half-century, and a couple of adulterous affairs that may have involved homicide found their way into the popular media. But while every corrupt and perverted behavior ranging from pedophilia to sexual assault has been committed by ordained ministers and/or their staffs, I have to give the UM hierarchy credit for doing a much better job of covering-up these scandals than their Catholic counterparts. There was in my mind no little irony that I was being appointed associate pastor to a church smack dab in the middle of Sin City, but the unexpected surprise was to find the whole gamut of ethical and moral infractions thriving at Trinity. Nate Holt had failed to mention to me that it had been necessary for him to admonish Don Smith to stop having physical contact with the children attending the preschool run by Trinity. And remember that Omaha parishioner who confessed to an affair with a UM pastor? It had been at Trinity (although this was a pastor who served years earlier than Don). And this was just the tip of the iceberg. Now that Don had successfully finagled Rick Altman onto staff during the brief period before my appointment commenced, a whole new dimension of fraud, deceit, and criminality was about to unfold. I don’t mind admitting to seeking the professional services of no less than three psychologists and one psychiatrist during my two-and-a-half years at Trinity, because I was more willing to accept that I was losing my mind than to believe that what I was witnessing was actually happening.

Allow Me to Introduce...

In retrospect, I had probably overused the term “dysfunctional” before being appointed to Las Vegas Trinity. What I probably should have regarded as “not optimally functional” paled by comparison to the profoundly aberrant conditions I discovered at Trinity. Thus far in this autobiographical venture I have proceeded chronologically, but to detail accurately and truthfully what was going on at this church that a colleague would later identify as “evil” requires that I temporarily take an alternate route that focuses on the cast of characters. The names are not being changed for the protection of the innocent because there are none, and because it is one of the luxuries of exposing this lurid tale in the relative privacy of a rarely read blog.

Don Smith was darned near a cartoon character. From his pudgy, effeminate waddle to his softly-spoken circuitous homilies, Don was the epitome of the milquetoast pastor that would never take a position on anything for fear of drawing attention to himself. After bouncing around from one small appointment to another, he truly had found his utopia at Trinity where he seemed to have fallen off the conference radar. Trinity was a relatively young church that—much as Trinity Heights in Flagstaff—had come to idolize its founding pastor and the glory days of starting from scratch. I’m reasonably certain that Don saw Trinity as his last appointment before retiring, and the means to that end consisted of not doing anything that might stir the waters. If this meant fudging on membership numbers (a remarkably common practice among UM clergy) or juggling the books (again, unfortunately, not that uncommon) to preserve his ability to remain in his private home on the outskirts of the city, then so be it. It didn’t take me too long to begin to understand what had been “wrong” with John Cox in this scheme, and to realize that I was going to be another “wrong” choice—at least from Don’s perspective—for precisely the same reasons.

On Silver Linings

I just finished eating lunch with Rebecca. Her shift ended at noon and we walked a couple of blocks to Centennial Plaza to enjoy this beautiful day. She’s now on her way to the philosophy of music class that she is finding to be very stimulating, and I have these few minutes before my lunch hour is up to reflect on what truly redemptive occasions these are. Both Rachel and Rebecca (I never know which is grammatically correct – “my” daughters or “our” daughters) have matured into incredibly beautiful, intelligent and talented women, and neither of them seems to hold against me the many mistakes I have made as their father. I need to remember this, and more often than I usually do. As my blog heads into the darkest days of my life, it’s good to know now that there really was light at the end of the tunnel.

Mark, Meet Rasputin

The time of transition was uncomfortable. I was no longer welcome to attend annual conference in Nebraska, and I would not move to Nevada in time to attend the Desert Southwest session. At least the Desert Southwest arranged to have our furniture and belongings shipped, and so preparing for the movers became an acceptable diversion. It was a long drive from Oakland to Las Vegas, but we were cheered to see the Strip skyline as we approached on southbound Interstate 15. Successfully maneuvering westward on Charleston Blvd. we arrived at Trinity, where we were greeted with the news that the repair and renovation of the parsonage was taking longer than expected. This is when I also learned that Rick Altman had been hired as Youth Director in the few weeks that had transpired since I met with the S-PRC. This was rather unsettling because it quickly became apparent that Rick had been in Don Smith’s mind all along as John Cox’s replacement, although it did explain why Don was so reserved during my initial visit. Rick was Youth Director in title only, because his broad-ranging authority actually allowed him to function as the church administrator. Thus it was that Rick had been placed in charge of the parsonage project which was growing more grandiose by the day. Rick arranged for us to move into a short-term apartment that was near the Strip and far from Trinity, and all of our belongings had to be put into storage until we could move into house. Don provided me with a new understanding of passive/aggressive behavior as he quietly absolved himself of any responsibility for what was going on. This was my introduction to Rick as Don’s alter-ego, and the queasy feeling in my stomach never went away for the next three years.

On Burning Bridges

Preston Howard was quick to reply to my concern about the condition of the Trinity parsonage, telling me that the S-PRC had not known of its sorry state until I informed him. He assured me that Trinity was very much looking forward to me being their associate pastor and that the house would be in first-class shape upon our family’s arrival. Still not having heard anything from Susan Davies (nor would I ever) about the new church start in Omaha, I decided that it was incumbent upon me to inform my current superintendent, Jim Brewer, about my decision to move to the Desert Southwest. Nate had assured me that Bishop Elias Galvan had informed Nebraska Bishop Joel Martinez of the impending change, but if he had the word had never gotten to Brewer. Jim literally exploded, condemning my actions as traitorous. When Brewer went to Martinez it came as news to him, as well, and it was only after Martinez called Galvan that my “new” bishop conceded that he had heard something from Holt about the arrangements being made in Las Vegas but had never been specifically asked to communicate with Nebraska. I have found it a given that the higher one is placed in the UMC hierarchy, the more infallible and inerrant one becomes. I earned a personal visit with Bishop Martinez at which he had no interest in hearing about my never having heard from Davies because his purpose was to inform me that while he didn’t have to let me go to Nebraska he was going to approve the move because he no longer wanted me in his conference. Jim Brewer made it a point to tell me never to even think about returning. Nate was disingenuous about failing to properly communicate with Bishop Galvan and told me not to worry because the important thing was that I was being accepted back into the Desert Southwest; i.e. don’t worry about what they’re saying and doing in Nebraska because you’ll never see them again. I truly regretted that this was way my relationship to the Nebraska Annual Conference was ending, and I wrote a letter to Bishop Martinez telling him as much, but the only course left was in the direction of a highly ambiguous appointment to Las Vegas Trinity UMC.

The Nightmare Begins to Take Shape

That I was not being shown the Trinity parsonage just didn’t make sense. As Nate, Don and I “sealed the deal” at the Blueberry Hill, I became uncharacteristically assertive and pushed the issue. Don said that he would notify John Cox that Nate and I would be by the next morning to walk through. As Nate and I pulled up to the northeast corner of Del Rey and Lindell, John was sitting on a ratty sofa that was on the front porch. Nate muttered something to the effect that this is where Cox was known to spend all of his time (apparently explaining why he was never in his office) and for me to go ahead and look through the house while he discussed the impending changes with John. Several of the Cox family members were there, and all of them were openly hostile about having me look through their quarters. A couple of the adult sons who were residing there closed themselves in their bedrooms, and Mrs. Cox basically showed me the living room and the kitchen. An engine was broken down in the living room where the carpet was soaked with motor oil, and everything that I was able to see was in a state of utter disrepair. The discussion between Nate and John was growing heated, and it seemed best to just leave the premises. Again, it seemed curious to me that Nate had not gone inside the house with me, and my opportunity to express my concerns about the state of the parsonage was quashed as Nate informed me that he had a “VIP” to pick up on our way to the airport for my departure. As the two of them chatted in the front seat, I sat in the back seat and mulled over all that had transpired in the last 48 hours. Paramount for me was to ensure that Mary, Rachel and Rebecca would never have to see the parsonage in the condition I had seen it. My first item of business upon my return to Oakland was to fire off a letter to Preston Howard, an attorney and chairperson of the S-PRC, informing him that I required his assurance that the parsonage would meet conference standards by the time we arrived in July.

Strange Days

The meeting with the Trinity Staff-Parish Relations Committee had a very odd feel to it. I’d gone through the process enough times before to discern that this was comparatively different. First, Nate didn’t even pretend to be recommending me as John Cox’s replacement. Instead, he was very matter-of-fact that if the S-PRC wanted Cox gone, I was the one who would replace him. Second, Don Smith was definitely not assuming the role of a senior pastor as he acquiesced to the goings-on. Paul Standish and Preston Howard (these are names to remember) essentially took on the role of speaking for the local congregation. Finally, it became very apparent before the meeting was finished that John Cox had no idea what was happening. It was peculiar that there was no mention made of walking through the parsonage (one of the indications of clergy status in the UMC is owning one’s home, which the Smith’s did; this is also another item for future reference), and I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with the line of questioning that was better suited to a senior pastor than an associate. Once my tentative appointment to Trinity was formalized, Nate, Don and I went to the Blueberry Hill restaurant on Decatur for an informal debriefing. Nate was the one who clarified that the chief complaint with Cox was that he never showed up for work; meaning, I guess, that he didn’t come to his office every day. Don was curiously ambiguous about anything and everything (I later learned the reason for his lack of interest in our working relationship), and spent the remainder of our time together going through the perfunctory niceties. Knowing that I was flying back to Nebraska the next day, I asked if it would be possible for me to see the parsonage before I left. Both Nate and Don hemmed and hawed, but finally agreed to tell John that Nate and I would be coming by the next morning. I didn’t sleep very well that night.