Prestonsburg, Kentucky (1934 - 1935)
The District Superintendent contacted my husband early in the spring of 1934 about moving to Prestonsburg, as the pastor there was leaving. He felt it important that the place be filled and felt we were the ones to fill it. Brother Bolender did not feel he could leave Carrolton Church just at that time, nor did he feel it fair to leave Mr. Fallis, who was county supervisor of gardens and who had been so kind to recommend him as assistant supervisor. So arrangements were made for the children and me to move to Prestonsburg in April. We had made some lasting friendships at Carrolton. Goodbyes were not easy, but it all went with our consecration. Brother Bolender moved us in April. We got settled in the parsonage. He was with us for the first services, then back to Carrolton until June when he joined us. Adjustments were harder for the children than for me. I had lived in the mountains before and knew something of mountain culture, but they had not. Some problems developed as they entered school so near the closing of the year. Before, Juanita had experienced the most problems as they had changed schools, but it was Warren who hit it tough that time. Some young mountain bullies decided to have some fun with the new preacher’s son. Warren was no coward, and when given half a chance his good humor and clever tactics usually brought him out victorious; but here he found himself so completely outnumbered and for the first time I found him a truly frightened boy. As his father was not home to council him, my best help was prayer. An older boy in our Sunday School, Laughton, soon sensed the situation and served as kind of an older brother and I feel sure saved Warren more than once a good flogging by the “fun” loving kids. This all soon wore off and the children were accepted before the school year closed; but in the 15 months we were there, they never made any close bosom friends with any children their age.
For Christmas we were able to again gather with the entire Bolender family. Not one of the twelve grandchildren could ever forget those marvelous occasions.
We had a good year seeing some hardened sinners saved, and making new friends with some fine people who might be called of the upper class and devoted Christians. We had two revivals while there. One was with Rev. R. D. Brown from Tennessee, who was a close friend of Sgt. York, the great World War I hero. Our other evangelist was Rev. Laurence Steel, who was used of God not only by his clear gospel preaching, but also his gospel singing accompanied by his guitar playing. In these revivals, we were aided by occasional visits by the Pikeville, Pinsonfork, and McAndrew churches.
During this pastorate, we also enjoyed helping in an independent country work at Mud Lick near Paintsville. They held a Sunday afternoon Sunday School. We went as often as we could to have preaching. These were very refreshing services both for ourselves and the people of the community.
I received a message that my father had an accident while working with some horses in a field with a neighbor. He had sustained a broken ankle. This accident had occurred on June 1, our wedding anniversary. My brother was at that time pasturing at Central City, Kentucky, some 30 miles from Father. He went to see about him and took his oldest daughter to stay and help my stepmother. After the accident, the neighbor hitched a horse to the farm sled and got my father to the house where he had the neighbor prepare splints and proceeded to set the broken bones himself and applied the splints. As a veterinarian, he had done these things on animals; so he did not consider calling a doctor.
The neighbors kept insisting, so the fourth day a doctor came and examining it said, “Mr. Fortner, you did a fine job. I would not consider changing it.” Things seemed to progress well until, on the 25th, Dillard came to see him and to work his garden. When he came in to see about Father, he said, “I have heart burn,” meaning indigestion, and asked for soda water. Our stepmother prepared it and handed the glass to Dillard who gave it to Father who drank it. Immediately he saw something had changed. Dillard rushed to the porch to summon the stepmother. When he returned, Father was gone. They called us and the rest of the family. We prepared for the trip as soon as possible. We stopped overnight with my sister Beatrice in Cincinnati. She and the children were prepared to go with us to the funeral. It had been raining, so when we got to Leitchfield, we were informed there was no possible way we could reach Morgantown because Green River was out of banks. We had hoped to reach home that night. The funeral was the next p.m. Now we had to take a long detour. We were crowded in the car and were all weary, so we decided to get rooms in the small hotel and get an early start in the morning. The detour took us to Bowling Green. There we found Barren River out of banks. We could not cross the bridge, but a ferry was working. Mr. Hudnell who had lived near us when I was a small child operated the ferry. When we made ourselves known, he had not heard of Father’s death and expressed sympathy. We almost lost hopes of arriving in time for the funeral, but drove in as they were preparing to take the casket to the church.
Father was known as a strict Christian. He belonged to the Methodist Church at Huntsville and had served as Sunday School Superintendent for years. Some of his favorite songs were sung. The pastor brought a comforting and assuring message. He was laid to rest in the well-kept cemetery just back of the church. My niece told me that a few days before he died, she had gone to the piano and played and sang some hymns. She heard him in the other room shouting the praises of God. Thank God for parents who loved and served God.
For Christmas we were able to again gather with the entire Bolender family. Not one of the twelve grandchildren could ever forget those marvelous occasions.
We had a good year seeing some hardened sinners saved, and making new friends with some fine people who might be called of the upper class and devoted Christians. We had two revivals while there. One was with Rev. R. D. Brown from Tennessee, who was a close friend of Sgt. York, the great World War I hero. Our other evangelist was Rev. Laurence Steel, who was used of God not only by his clear gospel preaching, but also his gospel singing accompanied by his guitar playing. In these revivals, we were aided by occasional visits by the Pikeville, Pinsonfork, and McAndrew churches.
During this pastorate, we also enjoyed helping in an independent country work at Mud Lick near Paintsville. They held a Sunday afternoon Sunday School. We went as often as we could to have preaching. These were very refreshing services both for ourselves and the people of the community.
I received a message that my father had an accident while working with some horses in a field with a neighbor. He had sustained a broken ankle. This accident had occurred on June 1, our wedding anniversary. My brother was at that time pasturing at Central City, Kentucky, some 30 miles from Father. He went to see about him and took his oldest daughter to stay and help my stepmother. After the accident, the neighbor hitched a horse to the farm sled and got my father to the house where he had the neighbor prepare splints and proceeded to set the broken bones himself and applied the splints. As a veterinarian, he had done these things on animals; so he did not consider calling a doctor.
The neighbors kept insisting, so the fourth day a doctor came and examining it said, “Mr. Fortner, you did a fine job. I would not consider changing it.” Things seemed to progress well until, on the 25th, Dillard came to see him and to work his garden. When he came in to see about Father, he said, “I have heart burn,” meaning indigestion, and asked for soda water. Our stepmother prepared it and handed the glass to Dillard who gave it to Father who drank it. Immediately he saw something had changed. Dillard rushed to the porch to summon the stepmother. When he returned, Father was gone. They called us and the rest of the family. We prepared for the trip as soon as possible. We stopped overnight with my sister Beatrice in Cincinnati. She and the children were prepared to go with us to the funeral. It had been raining, so when we got to Leitchfield, we were informed there was no possible way we could reach Morgantown because Green River was out of banks. We had hoped to reach home that night. The funeral was the next p.m. Now we had to take a long detour. We were crowded in the car and were all weary, so we decided to get rooms in the small hotel and get an early start in the morning. The detour took us to Bowling Green. There we found Barren River out of banks. We could not cross the bridge, but a ferry was working. Mr. Hudnell who had lived near us when I was a small child operated the ferry. When we made ourselves known, he had not heard of Father’s death and expressed sympathy. We almost lost hopes of arriving in time for the funeral, but drove in as they were preparing to take the casket to the church.
Father was known as a strict Christian. He belonged to the Methodist Church at Huntsville and had served as Sunday School Superintendent for years. Some of his favorite songs were sung. The pastor brought a comforting and assuring message. He was laid to rest in the well-kept cemetery just back of the church. My niece told me that a few days before he died, she had gone to the piano and played and sang some hymns. She heard him in the other room shouting the praises of God. Thank God for parents who loved and served God.
