# From Copper to Gold: The Life of Dorothy Baker *Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-18 — 1 clipping.* --- > Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Dorothy Freeman Gilstrap, From Copper to Gold: The Life of Dorothy Baker, bahai-library.com. > ────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── > > Champion Builder Books are a series of biographies about indi- > viduals who have been instrumental in helping the North Ameri- > can Bahá í community fulfill its destiny—in the words of Shoghi > Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá'í Faith—as “the champion > builders of Bahá'u'lláh's rising World Order.” > > Other Champion Builder Books: > > To Move the World: Louis Gregory and the Advancement of > Racial Unity in America > by Gayle Morrison > > Martha Root: Lioness at the Threshold > by M. R. Garis > > Zikrullah Khadem, The Itinerant Hand of the Cause of God: > With Love > by Javidukht Khadem > > ii > Dorothy Baker, a photograph taken in the late 1930s, > and one of her favorites. > > iii > iv > THE LIFE OF > Dorothy Baker > “Is it ever possible,” they ask, “for copper to be transmuted into > gold?” Say, Yes, by my Lord, it is possible.—Bahá’u’lláh > > BY > DOROTHY FREEMAN GILSTRAP > > Researched by Louise B. Mathias > > Bahá’í Publishing Trust > Wilmette, Illinois > > v > Bahá’í Publishing Trust, Wilmette, Illinois 60091-2844 > > Copyright © 1999 by Dorothy Freeman Gilstrap > > All Rights Reserved. Published 1999 > > Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data. > Freeman, Dorothy. 1951– > From Copper to Gold: the life of Dorothy Baker / by Dorothy > Freeman Gilstrap; researched by Louise B. Matthias. — [2nd ed.] > p. cm. > Includes bibliographical references and index. > ISBN 0-87743-255-4 > 1. Baker. Dorothy. 1898-1954. 2. Hands of the Cause of God— > Biography. 3. Bahais—Biography. I. Title > BP395.B35F74 1998 > 297.9’3’09—dc21 > [B] > 98-31611 > CIP > > vi > This book is dedicated, as was the life of Dorothy Baker, > to the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, > > Shoghi Effendi > > whose vision for humankind continues to inspire in myriad hearts > the longing to give their all to the Cause for which he > so nobly and selflessly lived. > > vii > viii > Table of Contents > List of illustrations .................................................................................................................. x > Researcher’s preface to the second edition ..........................................................................xiv > Author’s preface to the second edition .............................................................................. xviii > Author’s preface to the first edition ...................................................................................... xx > Acknowledgments ..............................................................................................................xxiv > Prologue: Autumn 1912 ......................................................................................................... 1 > 1. Fifteen years earlier, 1896 .............................................................................................. 9 > 3. Final year at school, 1916–17 ....................................................................................... 27 > 3. Teacher’s training college, 1917–19............................................................................. 35 > 4. Grammar school teacher and suitors, 1920................................................................... 49 > 5. Frank Baker and proposal, 1920–21 ............................................................................. 61 > 6. Marriage, birth of Louise, and the psychic, 1921–23 ................................................... 73 > 7. Move to Buffalo, birth of Bill and the passing of Sara, 1923–26 ................................. 87 > 8. Move to Lima, Ohio; health scares and deepening, 1927–30..................................... 107 > 9. Early depression years, deepening, and teaching at Louhelen, 1931–32 ................... 123 > 10. Passing of Mother Beecher, 1932 ............................................................................... 139 > 11. Growth of the Lima Bahá’í community, 1932–34...................................................... 147 > 12. Expanding horizons and development of skills, 1934–36 .......................................... 171 > 13. Local opposition encountered and countered, 1936–37 ............................................. 189 > 14. NSA member and public speaker, 1937–39 ............................................................... 203 > 15. Travel teaching in North America, 1940–41 .............................................................. 225 > 16. Memories of Dorothy; her talks and letters, 1940s..................................................... 241 > 17. Teacher and administrator, 1944–51 .......................................................................... 283 > 18. International arena and Louise Baker, 1943–51 ......................................................... 317 > 19. Growing family & appointment as Hand of the Cause of God, 1947–1951 .............. 367 > 20. International responsibilities & pioneering plans, 1951–53 ....................................... 389 > 21. Conference & travel teaching in India, 1953 .............................................................. 430 > 22. BOAC Comet Flight 781 crash & aftermath, 1954 .................................................... 472 > Epilogue .............................................................................................................................. 486 > Appendix I: Selected works by Dorothy Baker ................................................................. 500 > Appendix II: Selected radio talks given by Dorothy Baker ............................................... 536 > > ix > List of > illustrations > Dorothy Baker Frontispiece > 1 ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in New York, 1912 xxix > 2 Dorothy King Beecher, circa 1911 xxx > 3 Luella King Gorham, 1894 11 > 4 Mother Beecher, circa 1925 21 > 5 Dorothy, 1899 24 > 6 Dorothy “reading” with her doll, circa 1900 24 > 7 Dorothy all dressed up, circa 1904 24 > 8 Dorothy feeding the chickens, 1904 25 > 9 Dorothy, her mother Luella, and brother David 25 > 10 David and Dorothy Beecher, circa 1912 29 > 11 At Montclair Normal School, 1918 42 > 12 Dorothy, about 1919 53 > 13 The wedding party at Budd Lake, June 18, 1921 74 > 14 Conrad and Sara, 1924 88 > 15 The Baker family at Budd Lake, July 1923 91 > 16 Dorothy and her mother holding > “Winnie Lou,” 1922 95 > 17 Mother Beecher with her son Henry and grandson > David, holding his daughter Susan, 1923 96 > 18 Louise Baker, Dorothy, her father Henry Beecher, > and grandmother Ellen Beecher, 1922 96 > > x > 19 Bill and Dorothy, 1924 99 > 20 Louise and Bill with their grandfather Henry, 1927 100 > 21 Louise and Bill with their grandmother Luella, 1927 100 > 22 Conrad takes Louise and Bill canoeing > on Budd Lake, 1927 100 > 23 Bill, Dorothy, and Louise, circa 1927 109 > 24 Bill and Louise Baker in Lima, 1928 109 > 25 Dorothy behind her new home, circa 1927 110 > 26 Dorothy’s father, Henry Beecher, 1933 145 > 27 Mother Beecher at ninety, June 1930 145 > 28 Louise, Dorothy, Frank, and Bill in 1932 149 > 29 Dorothy at Summer School in the mid-1930s 177 > 30 Louhelen Bahá’í School in the 1930s 178 > 31 Dorothy and Frank at Louhelen 179 > 32 Bahá’í class at Louhelen, 1935 180 > 33 Bahá’í class on the lawn at Louhelen 181 > 34 Bill and Conrad Baker, circa 1936 208 > 35 The National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís > of the United States and Canada, May 1938 220 > 36 National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the > United States and Canada, 1940 232 > 37 Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Lima, 1940s 245 > 38 Mary Lou Ewing, 1945 246 > 39 Elisabeth Cheney, 1944 265 > 40 Bahá’í representatives from Latin America with the > National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the > United States and Canada, 1944 289 > 41 The Inter-America Committee in the mid-1940s 319 > 42 Bogota, Colombia, 1944 320 > 43 Rice Lake Summer School, 1946 333 > 44 On their way to Europe: Louise and Dorothy Baker, > January 1948 341 > > xi > 45 … and in Madrid, March 1948 342 > 46 Hubert Matthias, Louise Baker Matthias, > and Virginia Orbison, 1948 347 > 47 Portugal, 1948: in Hubert‘s Citröen 347 > 48 Dorothy Baker in Lisbon, 1948 353 > 49 Bill Baker and Annamarie Mattoon ‘s wedding 369 > 50 Frank Baker in the 1940s 373 > 51 Hand of the Cause of God Dorothy Baker, 1951 387 > 52 Convention of South America, Buenos Aires, 1952 392 > 53 In Haifa on the long-awaited pilgrimage 401 > 54 Hands of the Cause of God attending the First > Intercontinental Teaching Conference, > Kampala, February 1953 405 > 55 In Kampala, making a point 406 > 56 Hands of the Cause attending the Third Interconti- > nental Teaching Conference, Stockholm, July 1953 418 > 57 Hands of the Cause of God at the All-America > Intercontinental Teaching Conference, May 1953 419 > 58 In the House of Worship, Wilmette, 1953, > with Matthew Bullock 420 > 59 National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís > of the United States, 1953 425 > 60 Budd Lake, September 1953, four generations 426 > 61 New Delhi, October 1953: Bahá’ís who attended all > four Intercontinental Teaching Conferences 432 > 62 Speakers at the New Delhi Town Hall, > October 1953 436 > 63 With friends in Kanpur, December 5, 1953 441 > 64 Addressing Sanskrit College, University of Banaras, > December 10, 1953 442 > 65 At Lady Irwin College for Girls, New Delhi, 1953 446 > 66 “What do you think of me in a Sari?” 451 > > xii > 67 With the Maharani of Scindia at the Palace, Gwalior, > November 1953 455 > 68 In Karachi, January 9, 1954 475 > 69 Elba, 1954 487 > 70 Monument erected in memory of those who lost > their lives in the crash of January 10, 1954 491 > 71 Luella Beecher and Frank Baker in Grenada, > West Indies, 1956 493 > 72 Some of Dorothy Baker's legacy, circa 1955 494 > 73 Hand of the Cause of God, Dorothy Baker, 1953 497 > > xiii > Researcher’s > preface to the > second edition > Within days of Mother’s passing people began to urge me to write > her biography. To each I gave the same answer. I could write about > her as my mother, but by the time I was grown and her work > expanded to more than local teaching, I was away at school, then > in Latin America, and later in Portugal as a pioneer. We were > usually in different countries and even on different continents. > There were others, I felt, who were more directly involved and > knew far more about her later life and work. > For twenty-two years I did little more than tell occasional sto- > ries about her. On January 26, 1976, our daughter Dorothy again > asked me to write about Mother’s life. She didn’t want to know > her grandmother simply as a two-dimensional, paper cut-out an- > gel. For some reason the penny finally dropped. When she left the > house, I sat down and wrote to the secretary of the Local Spiri- > tual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Lima, Ohio, to ask the friends > there to gather information and stories they remembered about > Mother. Sealing the envelope I thought, “Well, I might as well > write to a few other people, too,” and I started a list. In the next > few days the project snowballed, and I settled down to the task of > gathering as much information as I could still locate, some twenty- > two years after Mother’s passing. > Many, many people sent eulogies. I explained in a sort of gen- > > xiv > eral letter that, while the eulogies were deeply appreciated, they > were not useful in creating a biography. I needed stories—action, > conversation, description of actual events, and detail whenever it > could be recalled. > Collecting information on Mother became my fulltime occu- > pation for the next year and a half. From one person I might re- > ceive a partial account of some incident important in Mother’s > life which would trigger a memory of my own. I might remember > the event, but in no detail, and only enough to see the mistakes > and to know how very much was missing. Each time this hap- > pened I dropped everything else to say prayers. Time after time, > about a week after my prayers several letters would arrive, each > recounting some aspect of the event until finally it would fall into > place, complete and clear. > Toward the end of my research I felt that I was not the person > who should write the book. I thought of several people and after > prayerful consideration narrowed the choice to three individuals, > all women. Two had known Mother intimately and had worked > closely with her at various times. The third was our twenty-seven- > year-old daughter Dorothy, who, so far as I knew, had never con- > sidered writing as a career. Nonetheless, for some reason I could > not fathom, I kept her on my ever-shortening list of possible bi- > ographers. When I prayed for guidance, I invariably found my- > self absolutely sure that she was the one who should write it. Fi- > nally, I gave in and asked her. As it happened she had been work- > ing in television news and had become very interested in writing. > So the die was cast. She was delighted and honored to accept my > offer.1 > In 1929, when Rosemary Sala attended her first Bahá’í national > convention, the convention chairman called on Mother, who was > > The book was first published five and a half years later, in 1984. > > xv > still a young woman herself, and announced, “We have among us > Dorothy Baker, the granddaughter of Mother Beecher. Dorothy, > won’t you come forward and say a few words?” > Dorothy stood before the assemblage and spoke about guid- > ance: how to achieve it, how to recognize it, and the importance > of following it. At the end of each thought she concluded, “Blessed > is he who follows guidance.” > In choosing the author of this biography of my mother, Dor- > othy Beecher Baker, I was surely and unmistakably guided, and > the world is blessed by my choice. > LOUISE BAKER MATTHIAS > January 1996 > Grenada, West Indies > > xvi > xvii > Author’s preface > to the > second edition > What a pleasure it was to delve back into the life of Dorothy > Baker and to be able to add the many stories people have shared > since the first edition of the book. If you are a returning reader, I > think you will find new insights into her life, particularly her years > of greatest service. If you are a new reader, welcome. We are a > large and happy family, those of us who hold Dorothy Baker dear, > and we welcome you to join us. May her story inspire your service > and fill your heart. > DOROTHY FREEMAN GILSTRAP > March 10, 1998 > Arlington, Texas > > xviii > xix > Author’s preface > to the > first edition > Every life is unique in its sensations and intensity, its boredom > and its restlessness. No human effort can hope to faithfully repre- > sent the experience of life, even of one’s own. The reality lives on > in memory or heart, but the moment escapes. The arts live, in > part, to reconstruct for our eyes, our ears, our spirits, the essence > of experience and perceptions. Biography, if it is to reveal the > essence of a person, must do the same. > Mocking those life stories written as the dullest sort of history, > Virginia Woolf defined the biographer’s task as “to plod without > looking to the right or left, in the indelible footprints of truth; > unenticed by flowers; regardless of shade, on and on methodi- > cally till we fall into the grave and write finis on the tombstone > above our heads.”1 It is not my purpose to denounce exact chro- > nologies where every known fact is recorded without interpreta- > tion or comment. > The purpose of this book, however, is different. After review- > ing and categorizing by date and subject approximately two thou- > sand pages of research material, after culling and melting it down > to find the most telling incidents, the effort was made to discover > connections between Dorothy Baker as legend and Dorothy Baker > the striving, struggling child of God. This biography’s purpose is > to reflect not only the chronology of Dorothy Baker’s life, but > > Leon Edel, The Alexandra Lectures 1955-56 (London: Rupert Hart-Davis, 1957), > p. 96. > > xx > also the drives, the suffering, the delights, and the peak moments > of decision that helped make her who she was. > In the endeavor to reach this end, parts of the book are written > from the vantage point of Dorothy Baker’s understanding. This > liberty was taken partly because many of the experiences that > changed her life’s course were originally told to various indivi- > duals by Dorothy herself; therefore, details of her feelings and atti- > tudes were available. Obviously, within these scenes, many of the > words attributed to Dorothy and others, the exact details of set- > ting and mood, cannot be told precisely as they were. > The merits of this approach have been discussed by biogra- > phers and critics of biography ad infinitum. Some writers have > taken extreme stances on the subject of exact replication, arguing > that only those details which can be categorically proven should > be included. This raises the question of whether the most thor- > oughly documented materials available to the researcher really > contain the most vital information on the subject or, as Dr. Leon > Edel asks in his excellent book on biography, whether “those (docu- > ments) preserved are not the trivial ones and those which have > disappeared the important ones.”1 > It is left to future scholars to compile a strictly documentary > biography of Dorothy Baker and to the spiritual intuition of in- > dividuals around the world to know her in their hearts. Instead, I > have tried to combine mind and heart, basing this book on solid > source material while still following Lewis Mumford’s admoni- > tion that the biographer “must be able to restore the missing nose > in plaster, even if he does not find the original marble.”2 This > does not leave room for careless invention, but does leave the > writer freedom to find the missing pieces. Passages from the Bahá’í > sacred writings appear in their exact published form, except where > they are quoted in documents such as letters or talks. > Sons and daughters, husbands, cousins, grandchildren, and > > ibid., p. 84. > John A. Garraty, The Nature of Biography (London: Jonathan Cape, 1958), p. 112. > > xxi > namesakes of well-known people, of well-known Bahá’ís, are > sometimes asked, as I have been, what it is like to have that con- > nection. Halfway through the writing of this book, the question’s > answer no longer seems so troublesomely vague. > Dorothy Baker was spectacular; she was a woman who made > every effort to mirror divine attributes. She worked endlessly to > cleanse her soul from dust—from egotism, from self, from envy, > from whatever human foibles were hers. But the attributes she > mirrored forth did not belong to her; they were and are only God’s. > For each of us, burnishing the soul is a charge that cannot be > accomplished by anyone else. We each accumulate dust from the > hard road of living, and as individuals only we are responsible or > able to dispel it, as Dorothy Baker did. > Bahá’ís who have given their lives in service also serve in an- > other way. They are examples of perseverance in the task every > human being shares, of freeing the true self from the bonds of > the lower nature that mask potentially God-like qualities. They > show us how someone, sometimes weak, sometimes worldly or > lost in self, can be transformed by learning and acting on that > spiritual knowledge, regardless of his or her limitations. > With this said, I must add that not to be grateful for any rela- > tionship with an individual as magnificent as Dorothy Baker would > be absurd; to have had the feeling of her protective presence has > been a salve for many pains. But she is there, as are Martha Root, > Enoch Olinga, or Hájí Mírzá Haydar-’Alí, for all of us. In large > part our connection with them is of our own making. Not that it > is imaginary, but rather that it demands from us a desire for inspi- > ration, an acknowledgment of our helplessness, and an attraction > to the spiritual beauty of God’s creatures, whether they are in this > world or in the next. > It has been an intense pleasure to be associated with this unique > woman through exploring her spiritual transformation. The origi- > > xxii > nal purpose of this book was simply to tell the story of a life, but > if readers can find new inspiration and determination for their > own lives, they, as I, have Dorothy Baker to thank for living her > life as she did. > DOROTHY FREEMAN > March, 1983 > Grenada, West Indies > > xxiii > Acknowledgments > First those individuals who contributed their memories of Dor- > othy Beecher Baker deserve genuine thanks, especially her fellow > Hands of the Cause, Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khánum, Paul > Haney, ‘Alí-Akbar Furútan, Ugo Giachery, John Robarts, and > Raḥmatu’lláh Muhájir. I would also like to recognize the contri- > butions made by Elsie Austin, Edna Andrews, Annamarie Baker, > Dwight and Glenda Baker, William K. Baker, Shirin Boman, > Eunice Braun, Paul and May Brown, Garreta Busey, Louise > Caswell, Ivan Louis Cotman, Marguerite Firoozi, Margaret > Hildreth, Marion Hofman, Annamarie Honnold, Doris McKay, > Hazel Mori, Gene Pritchard, Isobel Sabri, Rosemary Sala, Monira > Sohaili, Edna True, Barbara Welsh, Marion Yazdi, Gayle Woolson, > and most especially Mary Lou Ewing, Edmund and Muriel > Miessler, and Margaret Ruhe. There would be no record without > these individuals and numerous others who made the effort to > record their recollections of Dorothy Baker or to forward source > material. > Very much appreciated are the materials of vital importance > sent by the Research Department of the Universal House of Jus- > tice, the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of India, and > by Roger M. Dahl for the National Bahá’í Archives of the United > States. Sincere thanks also are extended to the typists and proof- > readers who worked so diligently and patiently: V. Susan Rogers, > Margaret Postlethwaite, and their assistants in Dallas, Texas; Mary > > xxiv > Smith and her staff in Bridgetown, Barbados; and for their work > on the second edition, Angela Wilson and Elaine Field. Mary > Lou Ewing, William K. Baker, Shirley Yarbrough, and James Blake > read the manuscript and contributed their thoughtful suggestions > and personal responses for which I am deeply grateful. > Goddard College created the atmosphere of courageous inves- > tigation and stable support that allows projects such as this one to > take root and begin to grow. I would most especially like to thank > Dr. Richard Herrmann for his stalwart and generous confidence > in this project from its inception, John Turner for his unique un- > derstanding, Dr. A. V. Goyne and Dr. Charles Green at the Uni- > versity of Texas at Arlington for early and valued encouragement. > Marion Hofman and May Hofman Ballerio were sources of > knowledge, inspiration, and fearlessness without which this work > would have suffered greatly. I most admiringly thank them. Lov- > ing appreciation also goes to the friends whose wisdom and en- > couragement have been like the bread of life many times, not the > least of whom are Kim Dawson and Nancy Dobbins. > I wish to thank the United States Bahá’í Publishing Trust for > bringing out this lovely second edition. And I especially extend > my appreciation to the editors Terry Cassiday, for her calm and > delicate hand, and Ladan Cockshut, for her willing and able as- > sistance throughout the whole process of this edition. Working > with them was a distinct pleasure. > My father, Dr. Hubert Matthias, is gratefully acknowledged > for the thoughtfulness of his conversation which caused those > around him to consider the patterns of our human lives. I wish to > acknowledge the vast contribution Louise Baker Matthias made > to this project. Her own written memories of her mother and her > pursuit of the stories and memories of close to two hundred oth- > ers gave the personal depth to this book that allows readers to feel > as well as know Dorothy Baker. > > xxv > In closing, my husband Frank Gilstrap has been like the steadiest > of ships, strong and true. My son Chuck Freeman has taught me > a tender love I never knew that has helped me understand the > potent role motherhood took for Dorothy Baker. Also, I would > like to thank the Bahá’ís in every community where I have lived, > in Ireland, the West Indies, and the United States. I’ve learned so > much from them and hold them each in deep admiration and > affection. > DOROTHY FREEMAN GILSTRAP > > xxvi > xxvii > 1. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in New York, 1912. > > xxviii > 2. Dorothy King Beecher, circa 1911. > > xxix > Prologue: > Autumn 1912 > A gust of wind off Budd Lake reached the wide veranda; the empty > rocking chairs pitched back a bit, then rolled forward and back > again as if their occupants had just stood to leave. Dorothy’s chair > was still. At thirteen she was tall enough to rock herself, feet on > the plank floor, but instead she sat as she had when smaller, chair > pulled up tight to the edge of the covered veranda, her legs > stretched up to meet the railing that surrounded the porch > on three sides, as the porch surrounded the house. > It was early enough in the day for the sun to reach under the > long eaves of the Beecher summer lodge and cast the shadow of > the railing’s crossed wood on the painted gray boards beneath > Dorothy’s chair. As she sat, eyes closed, elbows resting on the > rocker’s flat arms, she felt the sun warming her legs through the > white cotton stockings. > Most mornings that summer had found Dorothy dressed in > plain muslin, barelegged, playing on the acreage that surrounded > the Budd Lake lodge. Some days she went rowing on the lake > with her older brother David, or with the Beecher cousins and > godchildren who came up for a few weeks at a time during the > warm months. Today was different. > She stared out past the lawn and through the trees to the glis- > tening lake, the wind breaking water and light on its surface like > an endlessly moving kaleidoscope. Sliding forward to lean against > the railing for an unobstructed view, she felt her face flushed by > the same sun that speckled the water and wished she could stay. > As Dorothy moved, the book she meant to be reading fell from > her lap, but with a quick motion she caught it. With its heroine > Elsie Dinsmore in mind, Dorothy reached up to retwist one of > her carefully rolled sausage curls. She wondered if they would last > the day. Elsie, who was perfect in the estimation of thirteen-year- > old Dorothy, was blessed not only with what she felt was the most > essential attribute of feminine beauty, naturally curly hair, but > also with a maturity Dorothy found remarkable for someone her > own age. She longed for both. > As Dorothy sat, looking out at the lake two hundred yards away, > she thought, as she often had before, of the fictional Elsie’s amaz- > ing strength of character, half imagining it as her own. On a Sun- > day, after dinner, Elsie’s father asked her to play the piano for > their guests. Elsie was accomplished at playing parlor music, as > she was at most proper girlish endeavors. However, being a good > Christian, she refused to play on the Lord’s day. Unwilling to > have his authority undermined, even by God, Mr. Dinsmore or- > dered her to sit at the piano until she played. Elsie sat there obe- > diently until toward dinner time she fainted. > Dorothy smiled as she thought of herself sitting at their piano, > her own family wondering in silent admiration at her tremen- > dous willpower. Then she heard wooden heels on the porch and > her grandmother’s voice. > “Don’t wait for us,” Ellen Beecher called back through the front > door. “We won’t be home for lunch. Just make sure the others go > ahead. I don’t want to hear Henry’s complaints about starving so > the women in his family can get religion.” > From inside the house came the maid’s objection to the task of > > explaining their absence to Dorothy’s father, but Ellen Beecher > had already focused her attention on her granddaughter. > “Dottie, you look like you’ve melted into that chair. Anybody > would think you don’t want to go. Oh, I’ve left my papers. Run > around to the carriage and tell the driver I’ll be right there.” > She did as her grandmother asked, but then so did most people, > other than Dorothy’s father, Henry Beecher. Ellen Beecher— > “Mother Beecher” to those who knew her best and were not afraid > of her firm New England manner—felt strongly about most > things. She often stayed with her son Henry and his family when > they left the pace and grime of urban New Jersey in favor of the > family enclave at Budd Lake. There Mother Beecher spent a good > part of each morning studying the New York Times. She and Henry > had a running dinner-table discussion on everything from French > diplomacy to the best methods of education. > It was when the conversation turned to religion that Dorothy > saw most clearly the differences in the two generations. Her fa- > ther explained life in terms of man and his powers, while Mother > Beecher, though just as convinced of the importance of the intel- > lect, saw its main function as discerning the will of God and act- > ing on that knowledge. Dorothy’s mother would sometimes in- > volve herself, but generally Dorothy was their only audience. Af- > ter listening to the arguments of each side, having taken in all her > young mind could comprehend, she would go to bed sometimes > with a certitude that all was in the hands of an omnipotent and > loving God, other nights equally as sure of her father’s position: > “Man is the measure of all things.” But neither thought could be > counted on to bring her comfort as she lay upstairs in her gabled > room. > There were nights when Dorothy watched the moon through > the tall oaks and could see, as plainly as the clear blue light let her > see her two hands on the window sill, the brilliant career she, like > > her father, would have. He knew the absolute power of the indi- > vidual, and on those nights Dorothy knew it too. She could al- > most accept Henry Beecher’s idea that whatever exists in the uni- > verse beyond human perception cannot be denied or proved, that > the only indispensable component in life is the power of man. > But then she would sometimes remember her parents’ life togeth- > er. They both seemed to feel in control of their future, and her > father, at least, believed that control to be absolute. But their > unhappiness together was evident, especially to Dorothy. She > wondered why, if they could control their lives so well, they were > unable to be happy. > Now and then she would dream of her parents. Like most > couples, Luella and Henry fought, but they could not seem to > resolve their differences. As Dorothy grew older and learned to > recognize the subtle but harsh words that aggravated their discon- > tent, her recurring dream would come more often. In it she walked > along between the two of them, holding their hands and concen- > trating with all her strength to pull Luella and Henry together. > No matter how she strained, by the end of the dream Dorothy > grew too weak. No longer able to hold them, her mother and > father would drift apart, from her and from each other. > The dream frightened Dorothy; her powers seemed so limited. > If Henry was right, that all strength comes from within the indi- > vidual, she knew she was right to be afraid. Neither she nor either > of her parents seemed able to mend their torn family. > Generally, Dorothy felt more at ease when she went to bed > convinced that her father was misled and her grandmother un- > derstood the truth: God is all-good and all-powerful. She found > comfort in her grandmother’s perception of reality until one night, > lying under her starched white sheets, Dorothy felt the paralyzing > fear of some tremendous, unknowable force at work in the uni- > > verse and in herself. Anxiety about her family’s in-harmony, > even about her own limited power, counted as nothing in the face of > this fear. The interminable universe drew closer, surrounded her > until even her little bed was part of it. She felt suspended on the > very edge of the earth and could feel it turning, turning in an > endless void at the mercy of an all-encompassing God she could > not comprehend. > A few days after that night of paralyzing fear, Dorothy sat with > Mother Beecher in the carriage that took them toward New York. > Mother Beecher spoke of God and His Messengers, of the lumi- > nous, Christ-like man they were soon to meet. Dorothy’s last ex- > perience with God was still too vivid to allow her to listen with > anything but politeness. She saw no reason to risk recalling full > memory of that night by concerning herself again with God’s > power; better to keep a distance from ideas that might renew the > devastating awareness. > As the carriage pulled into the drive of a house Dorothy had > never seen before, that same fear, unannounced, came rushing > into her heart. The unknown was near; the weight of its power > made her neck and shoulders stiffen. She sat staring at the floor > below the leather seat, waiting for the carriage to stop, hoping it > would not. Too late. The door opened and her grandmother > stepped out. Dorothy didn’t move. “What if he looks at me?” she > thought. “If he speaks to me I will die!” > > Inside there were groups of people around the room still talking > quietly among themselves, but the attention of each heart was no > doubt centered on ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. It could have done little to in- > crease the reverent attitude of the assembled Bahá’ís even if they > had known that, during the following months of His American > visit, the Man about to address them would be sought after by > > leaders in every arena: J. Pierpont Morgan, Alexander Graham > Bell, and Theodore Roosevelt,1 to name a few who succeeded in > meeting with Him. > The effect of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s loving and radiant nature needed > no proof beyond the transformed feelings of the heart that was > near Him. A Christian clergyman who also met ‘Abdu’l-Bahá later > wrote, “… one could not be in His Presence more than a few mo- > ments without realizing that His every act, tone, gesture, word > was so imbued with wisdom, courage, and tranquil certitude, com- > bined with such humble consideration of His interlocutor, that > conclusive Truth was conveyed to every beholder and listener.”2 > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá turned His majestic head toward the door as more > people entered. He smiled at Ellen Tuller Beecher, the woman > He had addressed as “Mother Beecher” two months before, and > motioned the child with her to a footstool next to His chair. Dor- > othy, without looking up from the floor, stepped around the people > who had by now encircled Him. As ‘Abdu’l-Bahá continued to > speak she sat on the stool near Him but kept her eyes on her own > little black shoes. > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá did not look at her, nor did she dare even glance > at Him. Instead, Dorothy tried to concentrate on the folds of her > leggings, hoping they would keep her from falling into the di- > mension of the unknown that seemed so close, hoping they would > remind her the world was real, she was real. But instead of feeling > transferred from fear of some immense unknown to the comfort- > able acceptance of life in the here and now, Dorothy’s fear changed > to desperate longing, a longing that felt strange but familiar. She > had known it before, but only in dreams. Now she felt again the > same intense, overpowering urge for the harmony of united love > that exhausted her young heart when she dreamed of her parents. > She felt that longing, no more for them, but for herself. Dorothy > yearned, in the presence of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, for her own soul to be > > Allan L. Ward, 239 Days: ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s Journey in America (Wilmette, Ill.: > Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1979), pp. 186, 43, 44. > Howard Colby Ives, Portals to Freedom (Oxford: George Ronald, 1983), p. 96. > > lost in the immensity of His love, melted into the luminous pres- > ence that surrounded her. > Anxiety gave way to this greater force. She could not be sepa- > rate another moment. In ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s loving eyes she found the > connection that unites the unknown worlds beyond, that had once > frozen her in fear, with the present reality of her life. When ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá finished speaking, Dorothy, unaware that she had even > moved, found herself turned toward Him, elbows on her knees, > chin in hands, unwilling and unable to remove her gaze from His > face. > Dorothy could never remember the subject of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s > talk that day, but for days after she could think of nothing but > that face, that voice. Finally, no longer able to suffer her love > alone, she wrote to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, begging to be allowed to serve > Him and the cause of His Father, Bahá’u’lláh. She signed her > letter, “Your little follower, Dorothy Beecher.” On the second page > of her letter she received an answer written in His own hand. > “Dearest child, Your goal is great and God is All-Bountiful. My > hope is this: that you succeed in your desire.” > Before His time in New York came to an end, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá sent a > message to Mother Beecher, asking her to visit Him. When she > entered the room where He and a number of Bahá’ís stood talk- > ing, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá turned toward her, and the room went silent. “I > have called you to say that your grandchild is My own daughter. > You must train her for me.” > > Chapter 1 > Fifteen years earlier, 1896 > The fire-lit drawing room felt close and small. Sitting there with > her husband, Luella thought it seemed much longer than two > years since the day her life took the smooth, swift turn that ended > here, in Henry Beecher’s Newark home. Manhattan was just across > the river, but the days of medical school and residency in New > York were lost in a distance that couldn’t be measured by years or > miles. How, she wondered, after such independent beginnings > had she ended up married and now pregnant, too? Still, Luella > rejoiced at the thought that, thanks to her, the family line would > be carried on, a task in which her brother seemed to have no > interest. > There was no denying her conflicting drives. The comfortable > satisfaction of following a conventional lifestyle with a proper > husband drew Luella away from independent goals, but it did > not make her forget them. Henry’s success in law made her proud > and comforted occasional pangs of guilt or remorse at not con- > tinuing in her own career. But the underlying regret would not > dissolve. A score of years later she would explain to her only daugh- > ter, Dorothy, “Like my strengths, this particular weakness, or rather > inconsistency, is in my blood. At the time of the Boston Tea Party > half my ancestors were importing tea from England and the other > > half went down and threw it in the harbor. It gives me a split > personality. I trust you’ve been saved from the same.” > After graduation from Hunter College, to her mother’s dis- > may, Luella had begun work as a teacher. Within a few years she > inherited two thousand dollars, a substantial sum for the day. In- > stead of buying whatever trinkets and clothes she had been un- > able to afford on her salary and putting the rest in savings for a > dowry or some emergency such as not finding a husband, Luella > bet the whole sum on herself. She had seen what a difference self- > sufficiency or its lack made in the lives of the women around her. > When Luella’s father, Captain Frederick Gorham, died in > Yokohama after his nineteenth trip around the Horn, Sara Gorham > was lost as to how she could provide for her children, Luella, > Susan, and William. Her mother’s strength in question, Luella > began to look more to her maternal aunt, Susan King, for guid- > ance. Susan was an active businesswoman whose tea trade > took her to Korea and the interior of China. She and her French part- > ner, Madame Demerest, produced excellent livings for themselves > and supplied jobs for their many agents, all of whom were women. > Unlike her mother, Luella’s aunt had lived without constant de- > pendence on a man. Luella decided to prepare herself to do the > same. She applied to the Women’s Homeopathic College of Medi- > cine and Surgery and, when she was accepted, used her inherit- > ance to pay for living expenses and tuition. After graduation, on > September 18, 1894, she and Henry married. > > Luella sat in the too-warm drawing room staring absently at the > newspaper in her lap, contemplating instead the combination of > fate and will that had brought her to the comfortable life she now > shared with her husband. But she felt the unease that sometimes > accompanied thoughts of their union and its effects on her life. > Seeing him across the room, so steady and content in his own > > concerns, she quite suddenly stood up from her chair. The rum- > blings of her mind reflected in her unease had already distracted > him from the law book he held, elbows braced on the arms of his > chair, but Luella’s quick motion brought the final break in his > concentration. > > 3. Luella King Gorham, Dorothy’s mother, in 1894. > A photograph taken before her marriage, showing her > in her graduation gown from Normal College in New York. > > “His book, his chair, his room,” she thought as he located his > place on the page with a long, extended finger before looking up > at her. Then, as if his questioning gaze required that she explain > the sudden uncalled-for motion, or words were needed to camou- > flage her thoughts, Luella explained, “I think I’ll go out … for > a walk … down to mail my letters, perhaps.” > “Couldn’t they wait for the postman in the morning? I’m not > sure you should be walking so far.” > “Of course I should. Pregnancy takes place in the uterus, dear, > not in the legs.” > Henry made a short laughing sound, nostrils puffing out a bit > of air, his head nodding back from the slight force. > “You know what I’m saying, Luella. I just want you to take care > of yourself and my son. Dusk is coming on, so watch your step.” > The night air was cooler than Luella expected as she closed the > door behind her. The latch clicked shut, and she was instantly off > down the street, stirred by the crispness of the evening. The air > had a special quality that made her want to breathe more deeply, > to fill her lungs with the purity of its coldness. The thought of > the drawing-room fire with Henry sitting before it made her smile, > not with fondness, at the moment, but with a certain pleasure. > As Luella neared the post box, her mind still on Henry, the > pleasure turned to insecurity. She tried to assure herself, “Harvard > isn’t everything. His family may have had patriots and pilgrims, > but mine did, too. He’s not my only source of glory, after all. I > don’t even have to depend on him. Perhaps after the baby’s born > I’ll practice medicine again.” > Luella felt the letters in her coat pocket. To distract her mind > from its doubts she read over the addresses by the street lamps’ > light and failed to notice another woman, a bit older than herself, > also approaching the mail drop. > Reaching the box, Luella mechanically flipped it open and > > slipped her letters inside. Turning to retread her path, she found > herself face to face with a woman she did not know. > “Oh, forgive me, I didn’t know you were there.” > The woman, unperturbed, smiled at Luella. Then her look > seemed to change to one of recognition. Luella, unaccustomed to > silent meetings, graced the unknown woman with a cool smile > and moved away from the mail drop and the stranger. > “Wait.” She touched Luella’s arm. > “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I know you, and I’ve got to be getting > home.” > Ignoring Luella’s trepidation, the woman continued. “You’re > going to have a baby.” > Thinking she at last understood this less-than-graceful behav- > ior, Luella released the breath she’d been unconsciously holding > so her staccato speech sounded almost like laughter. “Why yes, > who told you?” Only a little under three months pregnant, she > was sure physical signs hadn’t given it away. Perhaps the woman > was a neighbor who had heard from someone else. > “You will have a daughter.” > Feeling her abdomen tighten, Luella forced her voice to sound > relaxed. “Henry and I are hoping for a son.” > “Yes, he will be born first, but he will always be a disappoint- > ment to you. The soul I’m speaking of has unusual perceptive- > ness; she is waiting for the proper time, for your readiness to have > a daughter. She will be remarkable; an old soul, a very old, old > soul.” > Luella wanted to pull away, but the penetration of the eyes > kept her still. A moment passed, then another. She was aware of > nothing but the pale face before her. The woman nodded and > backed away, stepping off the curb. Luella, thoughts still scat- > tered, affronted but intrigued, could only watch as the stranger > crossed the street and was gone. > > No longer able to follow the now dim figure, her mind re- > turned to present surroundings and she felt again the cold air on > her cheeks. As if summoned by a loud noise, she turned her head > sharply in the direction from which she’d come and, not looking > back, followed her instincts toward home. > Two years later, on December 21, 1898, Dorothy was born, > following Chauncey Gorham Beecher, the son Luella was preg- > nant with at that evening’s strange meeting. It is revealing that in > Luella’s two-page summation of her life she wrote, “We had two > children. The first a daughter, Dorothy King Beecher.” Although > born second, Dorothy ranked first in her mother’s eyes, perhaps > because, as predicted that night, she was, in fact, remarkable. > > Of all her family, it was Dorothy’s paternal grandmother, Ellen > Tuller Beecher, affectionately known as “Mother Beecher” to the > American Bahá’ís, who influenced her most. Mother Beecher in- > troduced Dorothy to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and, as He advised, served as > her granddaughter’s primary spiritual teacher. > Mother Beecher, Ellen, was born to the Tuller family on July > 26, 1840. Theirs was a strictly puritanical home; Ellen’s mother, > Jeanette Eno Tuller, taught her all the questionable pleasures of > adherence to every rule of decorum known to New England. The > kitchen was the only place women were supposed to be useful. > Ellen’s reluctance to abide by the protocol set there was one of the > major tests of the mother and daughter’s harmony. Once, after > preparing her contribution to a church picnic, Ellen had cleaned > the kitchen and gone upstairs to dress for the occasion, no small > endeavor in those days of numerous underthings layered below > dresses secured by tiny buttons and hooks. When Ellen came down > again her mother waited in her domain: the kitchen. The code of > domestic conduct had been breached; the look of scorn on her > mother’s face made that obvious. Ellen looked around the room > > and spotted the sugar bowl she had inadvertently left out. Apolo- > gizing that she had been in a hurry to get to the picnic, Ellen > reached for the bowl to put it away, but her mother’s hand stopped > her. > “Is it proper to do kitchen work in your dress things?” > “No, of course not, Mother. I didn’t. I’ve just been upstairs > changing.” > “Putting the sugar away is kitchen work. In order to help you > remember to thoroughly clean the kitchen every time you per- > form your duties here, it is best that you go back upstairs and put > on a plain frock. Then come down and put the sugar where it > belongs.” > There was no discussion, ever. Ellen, like most young ladies of > that particular time and place, did as she was told. It was a confining > existence. Then the Tullers moved to Clifton Springs, New York, > so that her younger brother could be treated in Dr. Foster’s sana- > torium. It was there that Ellen’s spiritual potential was first awak- > ened. Eighty years later, in the mid1930s, Dorothy quoted her > grandmother’s memories of Clifton Springs in one of five articles > she wrote for The Bahá’í Magazine on Mother Beecher: > Dr. Foster had, in connection with his sanatorium, a large > chapel in which ministers of every denomination were in- > vited to speak every Sunday. One day it was announced that > Henry Ward Beecher, his brother, Thomas K. Beecher, and > the great Dr. Horace Bushnell of Hartford, a noted writer > and preacher, were to be guest speakers the following Sun- > day. Dr. Bushnell had written, among other famous works, > two large volumes on women in the church, always oppos- > ing, in no uncertain terms, their taking part in meetings. > Needless to say, the Beechers upheld this view. I went to the > meeting with joyous anticipation, making sure to have a front > > seat where I might see and hear everything. As usual, Dr. > Foster opened the meeting with a hymn, followed by scrip- > ture reading. Then closing the book, he said quite slowly > and distinctly, “We will now be led in prayer by Miss Ellen > Tuller.” > To say that I was utterly routed and completely horrified > would fail to express a tenth of my feeling. Everything > stopped. I hung suspended in a great void in which all mo- > tion had ceased. Nevertheless, I sank to my knees in answer > to the direct prompting of my heart, and opened my lips. > Immediately all fear left me and I prayed quite clearly, though > hearing my own voice as from a great distance. The die was > cast. Shame and remorse overwhelmed me to such an extent > that I heard nothing of the subsequent speeches. I could > only weep and wonder miserably what all these great men > must think of me. I thought of my dear mother, of my pas- > tor and of my church. Do you think this cowardly? Perhaps > it was, but I ask you to remember that with the exception of > the kindly doctor, I stood alone in a completely antagonistic > world.1 > The head deacon of their church visited the Tullers a few days > after Ellen had dared to pray aloud at the service. Repetition of > the offense, he instructed Ellen in his most dulcet religious tone, > would result in having her name permanently crossed off the > church books. Confident of the church’s powers to damn her eter- > nally, Ellen was torn between her growing inclination to serve > God in whatever way possible, even speaking out, and the obvi- > ous sin she committed by doing so. > Later that day, when the pastor of the church visited, Ellen was > still in turmoil. All humiliation was already hers, so she spoke > freely to him, explaining everything she felt and thought. Ellen’s > > Dorothy Baker, “The Evolution of a Bahá’í, Incidents from the Life of Ellen > V. Beecher: Chapter 3.—New Lamps for Old,” in The Bahá’í Magazine, Vol. > 24, no. 9 (Dec. 1933), p. 284. > > obvious devotion to essential loyalties regardless of man-made > doctrine seemed to relieve him of the burden of judgment. When > she finished speaking, he didn’t question her sincerity or purity of > motive. He only said that when, if ever, her name were crossed > off the church books, his would follow. > For the rest of her life, Ellen took an active role in both reli- > gious and community work. When asked how this stance could > possibly be acceptable in God’s sight when the Apostle Paul was > so clear about women’s secondary position in the church, Ellen > explained her understanding of Paul’s teaching. She said that his > interest in the silence of women, as evident from his organization > of the first Christian church in Antioch, Syria, was based on a > desire for social unity among its members, many of whom were > offended by women who spoke out and asked questions. Unlike > the eternal law that we must love our neighbor, this rule was not > spiritual in nature. It was simply a method of creating unity among > the members of an early Christian church by following the pre- > vailing social customs of the time. In this new age, when women > are considered to possess the same intelligence and spiritual po- > tential as men, she saw no reason for the arbitrary distinction > between them within the church. Consequently, Ellen felt per- > fectly at ease with her choice of an active, rather than passive, > religious life. > Ellen’s interest in the church spread to include the rest of the > community. She worked in prison reform and served on the board > of the Trenton Reform School for girls. When Mrs. Marshall O. > Roberts founded the YWCA in New York, she asked Ellen, who > was becoming known for her interest in the advancement of > women, to serve as a spiritual guide and counselor to the girls > who lived there. Another cause that attracted Ellen’s considerable > energy was the Temperance League. She gave fiery speeches to > thousands about the debilitating physical and social effects of al- > > cohol and also edited a weekly magazine dedicated to the same > ideas. > In New York, while working in the slums, Ellen met a young > newspaperman, Joseph A. Beecher. He was a grandnephew of > Lyman Beecher, father of both Harriet Beecher Stowe and Henry > Ward Beecher. When Joseph and Ellen married on Christmas Day, > 1866, the conflict that had begun in Clifton Springs chapel be- > tween the presiding patriarchy of the Beecher family and the in- > dependence of Ellen Tuller took full bloom. But Joseph, unlike > Henry Ward Beecher, admired and encouraged Ellen. Their > in-harmony wasn’t based on differing philosophies so much as on > similarly independent personalities. What they loved of each other > in theory—deep commitments, strongly-felt passions—didn’t > work as a basis for their marriage. Although in theory they might > have seemed well suited, their relationship was a volatile one. Ellen’s > continued zeal to do good was further fired by the pain and frus- > tration of life at home. > By her late twenties her belief that all would be well with the > world if only enough people determined to solve the most evi- > dent problems had waned. It had turned instead to a conscious- > ness of the apathy of others and of her own powerlessness to > redress the never-ending wrongs. She continued to work at the > causes she once believed in, but no longer with the conviction > that her efforts would have any real effect. Seen through the dark- > ened glass of her own limitations, resolving the problems of man- > kind, resolving even the difficulties of her own life, seemed hope- > less. Still, time with certain friends gave her some solace. > Ellen often visited a Mr. and Mrs. Thompson’s home where > they spent long evenings together talking or listening to music. > On one such evening, although thoughts still rushed in and out > of her mind, Ellen felt too tired to do anything but lie on the > > divan. Finally she closed her eyes, hoping to shut down the thought > mechanisms that kept her tormented and instead lose herself in > the music Mrs. Thompson played. Ellen couldn’t help wishing > that, rather than the sweet, innocuous piano piece, her friend > would play something forceful—Bach, perhaps—music to drive > the demons of doubt from her heart. But no sound of absolution > came, no strength of tone that could meet her misery then take > her, little by little, from its depths to the relative comfort of un- > derstanding. She finally slipped into sleep and, sleeping, dreamed. > Again in the articles on Mother Beecher’s life, Dorothy quoted > Ellen’s memory of that evening: > In the corner of the room appeared a Glorious Man, robed > in white and wearing a white turban. I dare not attempt to > describe the majesty of that Presence. The moment I saw > him, he extended his hands to me. “I know that you long to > die,” he said with exceeding gentleness. “You may go with > me now if you wish.” The room seemed suddenly flooded > with light. How I longed to arise and go with him! Then he > spoke again, telling me that although I might make my choice > as I willed, a great blessing lay in my remaining here of my > own volition, and that all things would be made plain to > me. My soul cried out to go, yet immediately my desire to > be obedient to this Shining Person obliterated all other de- > sires. Joy filled my being as I acquiesced to the things he had > spoken. Thereupon I began to be aware once more of physi- > cal sensation, and found myself being vigorously rubbed back > to consciousness by Mr. and Mrs. Thompson who had be- > come greatly alarmed about me. Even after I had opened my > eyes, I saw the dim outline of that luminous Presence for a > brief moment. Then all too soon the vision faded, leaving > > me transfigured by a strange joy while at the same time deso- > late because of its passing; so desolate indeed that I could > not forbear crying out in the grievous pain of that parting.1 > During those moments, timeless for Ellen, Mr. and Mrs. Thomp- > son were unable to find any pulse for a full five minutes. Awake, > but still too weak to tell of her experience, Ellen lay silent on the > divan. She didn’t know who the white-robed man was, but his > promise that all things would be made plain gave her the faith to > go on living. > During the coming months and years, Ellen investigated every > path that might lead to truth: New Thought, Christian Science, > Theosophy, Spiritualism. Each supplied her with some new un- > derstanding, but after complete immersion in the various beliefs, > Ellen had to recognize and admit that “all things,” at least for her, > were still far from plain. > Almost forty years had passed since her dream. Ellen began to > wonder if it really meant what she thought or if perhaps the dream > was only a product of her own subconscious desires, of her fad- > ing hope that life was worth living. Experiences with various spiri- > tual groups made her a master at distinguishing sincerity from > sham. She became callous to beautiful words that too often con- > cealed beliefs she did not share. > Ellen first heard a fragment of the story of Bahá’u’lláh from a > Persian rug dealer around the turn of the century. She was di- > rected to an American Bahá’í woman in New York who gave her > a copy of a prayer written by Bahá’u’lláh. With the prayer in her > purse, Ellen left the woman’s house, wondering, deep in thought, > and stepped in front of a train. She seriously injured her leg and > had to be hospitalized for several weeks. > Immobilized in her hospital bed, with little else to do, Ellen > read and reread the prayer. By the time she was able to leave, > > Dorothy Baker, “The Evolution of a Bahá’í, Incidents from the Life of > Ellen V. Beecher: Chapter 5 (Conclusion—The Vision of Reality),” in > The Bahá’í Magazine, Vol. 24, no. 12 (Mar. 1934), pp. 375-76. > > Ellen felt fired with the hope that she had found her Beloved and > that all things, as promised, would be made plain to her. Each > day brought her closer to the certainty that His promise to her, > forty years before, was real. > Ellen Beecher’s obedience at the time of her near-death finally > > 4. Mother Beecher, circa 1925. > > did bring the promised understanding, first through the meetings > she attended at several Bahá’í homes, then through translated > writings of Bahá’u’lláh and His son ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. She received > her first Tablet from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in 1897 and at least ten more. > In a Tablet He wrote to her in 1903, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, “Be ye not > grieved at the censure of the multitude, at the evil of the igno- > rant, at the derision of the deniers nor at the ridicule of those > who are heedless of the appearance of the Kingdom of God.” For > her whole long life Ellen Beecher remained steadfastly sure that > this was indeed the day foretold in the Lord’s Prayer, that the > Bahá’í Faith would bring the promised Kingdom of God to earth, > the goal Ellen Beecher had worked for, consciously or uncon- > sciously, all her life. Even before the shock of seeing a picture > of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and recognizing His countenance from her vision, > Ellen knew she had found her long-awaited truth. > But in her dream there was another promise, the prediction of > a “great blessing” if Ellen would choose to remain alive and wait > to find her Beloved here on earth. After discovering the Bahá’í > Faith, she spent the last thirty years of her life traveling on lecture > tours, organizing the administrative activities of local Bahá’í com- > munities, and teaching Bahá’u’lláh’s message of world unity and > spiritual regeneration to numerous people. Perhaps the blessing > He spoke of was her service in the broad sense, or perhaps some > particular of it. > Two things are obvious: First, Ellen Beecher took action, and > her action had direct results; and second, her example served to > inspire and edify others. It is in both aspects of this service that > her “great blessing” may well be found. Through her training, as > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá instructed in 1912, and through her example, she > raised her granddaughter, Dorothy Beecher Baker, to be a stead- > fast Bahá’í. Eventually, Dorothy served as the first woman to chair > the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States > > and was appointed by Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í > Faith, as a Hand of the Cause of God, an honor and responsibil- > ity conferred on only eight women in history. In giving spiritual > life to her granddaughter, Mother Beecher may be counted as > having supplied the original impetus for Dorothy’s “long record > of outstanding service” which, Shoghi Effendi writes, “enriched > [the] annals [of the] concluding years [of the] Heroic [and the] > opening epoch [of the] Formative Age [of the] Bahá’í Dispensa- > tion.”1 > > Shoghi Effendi, quoted in “Memorial Meeting for Dorothy Beecher Baker,” in > Bahá’í News, no. 277 (Mar. 1954), p. 2. > > 5. Dorothy, one year old, 6. Dorothy “reading” with her > December 21, 1899. doll, circa 1900. > > 7 Dorothy all dressed up, circa 1904. > > 8. Dorothy behind the carriage house at Budd Lake, > feeding the chickens, 1904. > > 9. Dorothy, her mother Luella, and brother David, circa 1905 > > Chapter 2 > Final year at school, 1916–17 > As a young teenager Dorothy went to high school in Maplewood, > New Jersey, where she lived with her parents and older brother. > But at sixteen she convinced her father Henry of the merits of > spending her senior year at a good girls’ school. Her choice— > Northfield Seminary for Young Ladies—emphasized, along with > scholastics, etiquette and household skills, the latter of which > Henry was very interested in having his daughter acquire. He al- > ready sensed what her years of marriage later proved. She had > little patience for centering her life around keeping house. > Even at Northfield, where the girls waited on tables periodi- > cally to learn the intricacies of “womanly service,” Dorothy’s main > interests were academic. The senior English instructor—“Lady > Mac” when she wasn’t within earshot—was a stern woman who > prided herself on never having given an “A”. Toward the middle > of the spring semester, she told all the pupils in Dorothy’s class to > line up against the front wall of the room. Pacing back and forth > in front of them, she explained the rules of the game they were all > about to play. > “Eight consecutive lines of poetry, repeated intact. I don’t care > if it is the words to a nursery rhyme, doggerel, or legitimate verse. > When you miss, you sit down.” Taking a front-row seat she si- > lently studied the twenty squirming girls before her and finally > said, “Begin.” > Standing near the start of the line, Dorothy was glad to be able > > to recite something easy that hadn’t yet been used. By the time it > was her turn again, a full half of the class members were seated, > having missed a phrase or, under pressure, been unable to think > of another unrecited eight lines. Dorothy took the minutes in > between turns to reconstruct the poems she could remember, > mentally crossing off those already used as her turn came closer. > The fourth round found only a few lucky ones standing, but as > luck ran out and only quick thinking and memory could replace > it, all the girls were seated by the fifth round except for Dorothy > and one other who, on her next turn, again rose to the occasion. > Dorothy’s determination wasn’t dispelled by the confidence of > the young lady next to her. Unflustered, she said her piece. Again > to the other girl. The girls in the class hung on every word, listen- > ing for a mistake. Dorothy’s turn: She almost faltered, then caught > herself in time. The excitement of Dorothy’s near miss seemed to > swell the other girl’s hope that she was fated to win. The girl be- > gan a poem, only to be stopped by their taskmistress, Lady Mac. > “That has been recited.” Horrified by her mistake, she pushed her > mind to respond—time froze, nothing came. > Their teacher gave a short nod toward Dorothy. If she, too, > was unable to find a final verse, the game would be tied. The eyes > of the class didn’t move from Dorothy’s face. Even the devastated > contender finally looked over at her. When the squealing encour- > agement that had been constant for the last three rounds dissolved > into a quiet that matched her own, Dorothy began. > Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote, > The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote … > Now standing by the window, their teacher’s usually erect > spine seemed to relax. Leaning on the sill, she gazed out as she swung > her pince-nez on its black ribbon, caught by the beauty of the > > language and the cadence and strength of Dorothy’s young voice > as she recited the prologue to The Canterbury Tales. The ability > Dorothy would later call on to move great numbers of people > had already moved at least one heart. That year Northfield > Seminary’s senior English teacher gave her first “A.” > Henry’s hope that Dorothy would come home from Northfield > > 10. David and Dorothy Beecher, circa 1912. > > with new direction was fulfilled. But the direction was not what > he had expected. At the start of the summer Dorothy seemed to > be more help to her mother, but Henry watched her as she qui- > etly ate dinner. Even as Dorothy helped the maid clear dishes > away night after night, it was evident her real attention was else- > where. He asked Luella if she knew what might occupy their > daughter’s mind, if she might be involved with a young man— > someone she met at a school dance, perhaps. But Dorothy hadn’t > written home about any romantic interest. Finally Henry admit- > ted that the change in Dorothy might simply be maturity, accep- > tance of her role as a woman. > A few mornings later he smiled, on coming down the stairway, > to find Dorothy waiting by the front door with his hat. > “Thank you, my dear. I am pleased to see the ladies at Northfield > succeeded in calming your spirits a bit—something your mother > and I had little hope of accomplishing.” > Dorothy smiled back, sincerely glad he was pleased. “Fath, may > I ask you something?” > “Of course, Dottie.” > “May I go to the law offices with you someday, just to see what > it’s like? I’ve never been, except for once or twice with Muvsy, and > then we only stayed for a minute.” > Henry looked at Dorothy’s almost alabaster skin, her hair softly > pulled back in loose waves. Her face no longer had the look of a > child, but the eyes gave her away. Perhaps the flicker of a little > girl’s beseeching gaze brought back images of a small one looking > to him for everything, looking to him as the supplier of all needs. > Touched, perhaps not so much by Dorothy’s request as by his > own mind’s workings, Henry said, “Would you want to do that? > The office wouldn’t provide any kind of amusement for a young > lady. I can’t imagine what you could do all day long.” > > “Oh, don’t worry about that. I could help around a bit. Surely > one of the secretaries would like someone to do little things for > her. You might even need me for one thing or another. But most > of all I’d just like to see what you do.” > Time together for daughter and father had been limited, espe- > cially over the last year. Whenever Dorothy was at home all sorts > of preparations for going back to school had filled her time— > things, as he said, her mother seemed better suited to help with. > But Henry had missed Dorothy that year. Now his eyes saw a > woman standing before him, but his mind longed to see the child > he was losing. > “Dottie, we’ll spend more time together—soon. Let’s take a > long weekend and go up to Budd Lake. Your mother loves it there, > and my business won’t be able to take me away so much.” > “That would be wonderful. In the meantime, though, couldn’t > I just spend one day at your office?” > Henry laughed at her insistence to be with him. “But we’ll have > three days together at the lake, not just one!” > “There’s more to it than that.” > Henry eyed his daughter. What else could she want? > “I’ll walk you outside.” Taking his arm, Dorothy opened the > door and they stepped out onto the porch together. “Fath, I’ve > thought about this a lot. I’d never bring something up to you if it > weren’t really important to me. You know that.” > He did. > “At Northfield I did well. I knew I was fairly smart when I > made good marks here at home, but Northfield was tougher.” > “Your mother and I were both very proud of you at the gradu- > ation, Dorothy.” > “I know you were. And I want you to be even prouder when I > graduate from law school.” > > Stunned, Henry sank down onto the porch swing. He had of- > ten wished that his son would take up law, but Dorothy was an- > other matter entirely. > “You’re very bright, of course. You might make a fine lawyer.” > He distractedly looked across the lawn. Sitting next to her fa- > ther, Dorothy touched his arm, ready to praise his openness to > her plan. Then the wondering quality vanished from his face and > voice as he found his way back to well-known territory. > “But I wonder, Dorothy, if you could still be a fine woman?” > Not seeing the connection, Dorothy said, “Of course I could. > You see how much better I’ve been around the house since > Northfield, but I’m better at studies now, too. They came to- > gether.” > “That may be so, but working as a lawyer is quite a different > thing from being a star pupil at boarding school.” Henry’s words > seemed to bring his own legal training to mind. As he continued, > the same pathos built in his voice that he’d so often used in court, > his initial sense of his daughter’s ability lost in the rhetoric of a > man who knows when he’s right and enjoys hearing himself make > a good case. > “I’m afraid of what will happen to you. You are so sensitive to > the pain of other people. Either you will constantly be suffering > with them or worse, you will become calloused and tough. I > couldn’t stand to see either happen to you. Your sweetness would > all but disappear.” > Now he was standing above her, looking down. Dorothy > strained to see into his face, but the morning light shone so brightly > from behind him that his face and eyes were dark. It seemed im- > possible that he meant what he said. She wanted to look into him > and know if he was only sure for the moment or if he spoke the > real truth. She raised her head to let the shadow of the porch roof > block the glaring light, but just as she saw the lines creasing to- > > ward his strong, flat temples and almost focused on the keen eyes, > he leaned down and kissed her forehead. > “Have a think about what I’ve said. If you don’t already realize > I’m right, perhaps considering the consequences in your life will > convince you.” > She watched him go down the steps and stride along the brick > walk to the drive. Sitting in silence, Dorothy closed her eyes and > let the swing move her in and out of the summer sun. > That night she told Henry his decision would stand; she told > herself that whatever she wanted would have to wait for that first > objective to be fulfilled—to become the kind of woman a man > like her father could love. > > Chapter 3 > Teacher’s training college, 1917–19 > From Mother Beecher to Dorothy: > Hamilton, Canada. Dec. 9th 1917 > “Royal Connaught Hotel” > My Own Darling Grand daughter— > Have I any hold on your heart these days? Or are you so > busy that you have no time to say so? I have written you two > letters since you went to Montclair, but I too have been busy, > so thought as you knew of my goings possibly through your > mother ‘twas not worthwhile to say more. But tonight I am > reaching out to you while way off so far from you all. I guess > a beautiful long letter from dear Mrs. Carré this morning > made me think of home folks, and you constitute a large > part of them to me. So here goes once more, in the hope > that it will be a welcome message from the heart that loves > you very, very deeply. > My experiences have been wonderful of course, meeting > so many people of all grades and conditions in a strange > land—and I have been more than happy in my work. I have > met some very advanced souls from whom I gleaned many > treasures—but of course I could not tell of it all by letter. > Then I have been so wonderfully inspired in speaking that I > have drawn many people to my feet, yes, and my heart— > but this only rejoiced my heart because it gave me influence > > and power to show them themselves and their needs of a > deeper spiritual insight. > In London, Ontario, I had phenomenal success—was > there nearly two weeks, and spoke nearly every night in par- > lors in all parts of the city, to different audiences—but the > charm there was that the people who listened to me were all > Church people. This opportunity to open the Scriptures to > Christians I have longed for ever since I began to teach— > but I guess I had not been ready before this to do so. … > I stopped at a delightful hotel there where I was more > than comfortable and happy—had such a nice warm room > with private bath—and such a splendid table. Had it not > been for the great expense—$4.50 per day—I should have > remained longer in L. for several other parlors had been > offered me for meetings—but Mrs. Maxwell1 is sending me > and paying all expenses so it did not seem quite fair to spend > longer time in the one city. Mrs. M. also sent me to Chicago > and Detroit—but in those two cities I was entertained. In > Chicago at the home of a very wealthy man whose family > consists of a wife and one daughter just your age. She has > finished her school life, but has decided to return to College > and prepare herself for “Social Service” life. I have met sev- > eral very advanced girls on this trip who are either making > ready to serve the world, or are actually at work already— > the girls are turning away from amusements to the useful > > May Maxwell, an outstanding Bahá’í teacher and first in many things. > She was among the earliest American pilgrims to visit ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in ‘Akká, > she founded the first Bahá’í community in Europe, and she was the first Bahá’í > to settle in Montreal. At the time of her passing in Buenos Aires, Shoghi Effendi > wrote that hers was a martyr’s death. Her daughter, Mary Maxwell, now known > as Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khánum, married Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of > the Bahá’í Faith. > > and practical life—and all absorbed. Of three girls in one > family all of them have entered some useful vocation, leav- > ing a fine home of wealth and many attractions. … > Oh! Dorothy it is such a joy to be conscious of the God > Presence and be able to help the blind into Light. How ev- > erything else pales before the Realities which are Eternal. > They never disappoint one, but grow upon you in power > and glory. The things of Earth seem so hollow, so fleeting as > they recede before my eyes—but you say yes, Grand Ma > but you are old and more ready to let go. That is quite true > darling. I am in a position though to see things as they are. > But you have your life to live, not to waste. You must mingle > with the people of the world, enter into its joys, and work, > and interests—but darling, always shine from within. Make > the old world better, happier and hungry to know more about > the light which shines through you. And always keep the > Eye of your Soul fixed on God. He is the only Salvation. He > only can make you great in all lines. He only can give you a > calm peace when all things else fail. So whatsoever you do in > life, do it for the Glory of God. When you enter the realm > of the world’s pleasures, do it for the sake of getting closer to > humanity, and then you will not be consumed by them. Be > happy always! Do not forget that God has appointed a Cen- > tre of His Covenant with man—and that Centre is Abdul > Baha and He has chosen you as His dear Daughter—and > that means much more than it would mean to have the great- > est earthly King adopt you as his very own. One is Eter- > nal—one makes you one with God, and the other has no > power to go with you … or to love your soul—or to make > you happy in or of yourself. > > The door to Dorothy’s dorm room opened, but she was too > > engrossed to notice her roommate come in. The sound of the > girl’s high voice made her start. > “Who is the letter from?” > “Carol,1 you scared me!” > “I’m sorry. You must have been really concentrating.” Carol > threw her books onto her own bed. “You’re something when you > concentrate like that. It reminds me of when you hypnotize > people.” > Dorothy felt the blood rush to her face. Since the beginning of > the semester, her first at Montclair Normal School, she and a group > of friends had been “hypnotizing” girls in the dorm. Her > roommate’s gullibility had added considerable appeal to the act. > Since the school, a two-year teachers’ college, didn’t offer much > in the way of after-hours amusements, the show became rather > popular with some of the first-year girls. At the chosen time, usu- > ally late Saturday night, after the school-organized play or dance > was over, they would all gather in Dorothy and Carol’s room. > Sitting in a circle, the girls would begin by explaining to each > other the little-known practices of astrology and palmistry. As > night slipped further from the safety of the day, they concen- > trated on the more fabulous details of the occult, conjuring up > believe-it-or-not tales of mystical powers. Ready to be scared by > anything, the more histrionic types set the mood by letting out > little yelps of fear; faces would suddenly disappear into pillows > brought along like teddy bears for comfort. Even between stories, > fits of gasps and cries came easily and often, inspiration enough > found in the scratch of a winter-dry tree branch and the move- > ment of its shadow on the wall, or the door’s sudden crack of > light letting in the face of a dubious passerby summoned by their > shrieks from her sleep-thick, bathrobed trek to the bathroom. > When panic reached a peak, Dorothy hushed the little crowd > > A pseudonym. > > with a whisper of something “truly unheard of” of which she, of > course, had heard. That night, as was often the case, her story > concerned hypnotism. By the end, girls were clinging to each other > like baby monkeys to their mothers. Others, the braver ones, those > who wanted more than words for proof, resisted the temptation > to wallow in fear and instead demanded a display. These were, for > the most part, friends of Dorothy’s who were in on the act; they > knew their cue and took it. > Putting herself in what she called “the proper mind,” Dorothy > closed her eyes. Then, as her audience watched in silence, she sat > very still. Just when they had begun to wonder, her eyes opened > and she stared at the candle standing in the middle of their circle. > The chosen victim cooperatively went “under” following Doro- > thy’s monotonous chant or the swaying to and fro of a borrowed > locket. Then Dorothy asked questions and elicited responses that > were far from the ordinary dormitory fare. She amazed her audi- > ence, particularly those like Carol, who didn’t know the act was > just that: an act. The girls who were in on the joke got their fun > from watching the ingénues and encouraging the atmosphere of > haunted suspense. > There was a favorite ploy to end the game. Dorothy would say, > “You are still sleeping, but when I say ‘Wake up!’ you will open > your eyes feeling refreshed and remembering nothing of this ex- > perience … now—Wake up!” Nothing. The girl stayed quiet, > eyes closed. Dorothy would pretend to make every effort, finally > pacing the floor in obvious distress. Carol and the others, almost > hysterical, begged her to “do something!” At last, when they were > at the brink of absolute frenzy, ready to call Mrs. Stiles, the house > mother, Dorothy found the magic phrase and the poor captive > was released. > > But now, the unread pages of her grandmother’s letter still in > hand, those nights passed through Dorothy’s mind no longer as > > nights of mischievous, harmless fun, as a display case for talents > untapped by the regular routine at Montclair Normal School. > Dorothy let her eyes fall from Carol to the sheets of notepaper > lying around her on the bed. One, two … six sheets covered > front and back with the challenging, insistent handwriting of her > grandmother. Even squinting her eyes so the words said nothing, > the marks of her grandmother’s pen demanded attention. Doro- > thy’s groan was almost inaudible. > She headed north toward the library, grateful for the solitude > the gray, uninviting cold provided. Pulling the letter from her > pocket she tried to find her place, glancing over the pages already > read as she followed the library path. Her eyes stopped at the > underlined words, “Shine from within.” The indignation of a few > minutes before found a further source. Why would her own grand- > mother, who knew her so well, feel the need to instruct her to > shine? Everyone at school thought well of her. She was part of > just about anything that happened. As Dorothy walked she re- > read the paragraph. “The things of Earth seem so hollow, so fleeting > as they recede before my eyes … you have your life to live, not > to waste.” > The wind chafed her face and bare hands, but Dorothy didn’t > shrink from its cold. Eyes burning from what she half felt was > undeserved punishment, she walked on, pushing the letter back > into her pocket. Even without rereading, Dorothy could remem- > ber the other comments. She was a disappointment. Why else > would her grandmother write of the “very advanced girls” she > had been meeting and the one just Dorothy’s age who was set on > a life of service? What of her own role? She, after all, was the one > with the spiritual heritage, if there was such a thing. > The bitter voice of her own mind made Dorothy feel sick. She > thanked God no one could hear her thoughts. What was the real > > difficulty? Not her grandmother’s other favorites—she knew they > would never compare, not really, not in Mother Beecher’s heart. > Jealousy didn’t help. It only gave her a victim outside herself. > Even with the envy recognized and rejected, she was still angry. > But why? For being found out by her grandmother? For finding > herself to be nothing outside of the ordinary in her search for > friends and fun? > But that was oversimplifying, and she knew it. The problem > was no more an incident or two with hypnotism than it was the > girls her grandmother mentioned. An attitude, a purpose—some- > thing had shifted in her heart. That was the root problem. At > some point, maybe not long ago, her commitments had changed, > not changed character, but changed emphasis. The questions, the > pain, stemmed from that. She hadn’t forgotten being at the feet > of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, nor had she consciously meant to neglect the > service she once was determined to render, but still, how much > did that decision now affect her daily life? It was hard to know. > In less than a week it would be time for Christmas break. Then > she and Mother Beecher, her physical grandmother but spiritual > mother, would talk and find answers to the feelings that made her > suddenly doubt herself, feelings which only that afternoon had > seemed natural. Together they would rechart the spiritual terri- > tory Mother Beecher had played such a big part in helping her > discover. > > Back at school in January, Dorothy seemed the same to her class- > mates—quick and as interested as ever, but with more of the > strength and leadership they had already sensed. An obvious > difference was that she and Winifred Baldwin became roommates > and soon proved to be the two top students. At night they would > do their homework together and then, instead of leading the sec- > > ond floor of Edward Russ Dormitory in a session of palmistry or > hypnotism, Dorothy would sit and talk for hours with Winnie > about their lives and their goals, material and spiritual. > > 11. At Montclair Normal School, 1918. Left to right: > Dorothy Beecher, Mildred Libby Rice, Marion Hamilton, > Emmy Lou Koth, and Winifred Baldwin. > > Years later Dorothy named her own daughter Winifred Louise > after the girl with whom she had shared some of the important > times of her young womanhood. Even fifty years later Winifred > Baldwin wrote of what they learned together, of how Dorothy’s > commitment to “radiant acquiescence” helped give Winifred > strength to accept the early death of her mother, pain she couldn’t > have known was ahead during those halcyon days at Montclair. > > At the age of nineteen, everything matters, every moment is the > moment of truth. Like a thousand other girls on the eastern sea- > board that summer and every summer, Dorothy was ready to do > something important, but there wasn’t anything to do. June had > barely started, and the summer looked endless. Her year of teacher > training didn’t help; Montclair was out for the summer, but so > were all the public schools, so she couldn’t teach. Service, service > that mattered, that was what she wanted. > In Europe the war went on. Dorothy’s brother was in the army, > but not overseas. Most of the girls in her class had a brother or > father, fiancé or boyfriend in the war—someone whose name they > dreaded finding among the lists of war dead, whose mention in > letters from home charged them with tremors of uncertainty un- > til, scanning the pages, they found none of the trigger words: > wounded, shot, killed. Dorothy’s friend Eleanor Browning received > the news at school. Her fiancé was dead. Others waited, wonder- > ing how closely their turn would follow Eleanor’s. > The war, in spirit, was everywhere. So it had been since Dor- > othy was fifteen, but now she was an adult with time and a new > inclination to serve. Service to the Bahá’í Faith was one possibil- > ity, but it was hard to define beyond a general approach to life— > there was no clear-cut forum in which to practice it. The desire to > give to some larger whole, outside herself, appeared to be best > fulfilled by participating in the struggle that embroiled most of > > the world. At the least it would give her a summer job; a muni- > tions factory in Dover, New Jersey, had openings. > Determined to do her part, Dorothy tried hard to settle into > the routine of her job as a bomb inspector. But wartime or not, > the work was dull and repetitious. The summer dragged on, one > day identical to the next. Thoughts of other times and places > occupied Dorothy’s mind while her hands stayed busy at the work- > bench. Often her eyes would drift around the room to watch the > other women perform the exact function she performed time af- > ter time. > As Dorothy stood at her position one day, she noticed that the > woman in the nearest corner station was looking around the room > as well. Glad to see someone else couldn’t keep to the tedium, > Dorothy smiled. Oblivious, the young woman returned to her > work. Dorothy reasoned that her smile hadn’t been noticed, but it > didn’t seem possible; they faced each other with only the two tables > in between. She looked again toward the woman and noticed > something else: her station was particularly messy. All of the work > tables were strewn with various tools, but hers was unusually clut- > tered. > The last break over, quitting time still two hours away, Dor- > othy walked back toward her station, her eyes everywhere but > there, where boredom waited. Almost to her place, she reconsid- > ered: why not pay a visit to the shy colleague across the work- > room? So instead of getting directly back to work, Dorothy cut > around and walked behind the barricade separating their inspec- > tion group from the rest of the plant. As she came around the > corner the woman’s back became visible, then the top half of her > torso disappeared from sight as she leaned far over her work bench. > “Very thorough,” thought Dorothy. Not wanting to interrupt in > the middle of an inspection, she stood still, just the other side of > the barricade, and waited for her coworker to finish. After a minute > > or two Dorothy began to wonder if there were some problem. > Peering around the movable shelves, she saw the woman’s hand > inside the bomb. Then the other hand slipped under her work > table and pulled out something long, but she moved so quickly > Dorothy wasn’t sure what. By the flash of light reflected it looked > like a knitting needle, but whatever it was, it was now lodged > inside the bomb, and the bomb sat alongside the others that had > been inspected and approved. > Back at her own table Dorothy couldn’t decide if she had seen > anything or not. Her quiet explanation to the plant supervisor at > the end of the day was given mainly to free her mind, to pass on > the information to someone qualified to decide it was nothing. > Instead, the discovery received national attention. A knitting > needle, properly placed, could apparently make certain bombs > the plant manufactured malfunction. The President of the United > States, Woodrow Wilson, sent a letter to Dorothy in commenda- > tion for her discovery of an enemy agent. > She was not, however, sure of the merits of her action. In later > years Dorothy almost never spoke of the episode and then only > hesitantly. With the knowledge that what she did was laudable in > the sight of many of her countrymen came a sense of the pathos > of a situation in which tampering with a bomb and so averting > the taking of certain lives was considered pernicious, while the > manufacturing of the instruments for human destruction was > praiseworthy. > The immorality of civilized life bothered her. Still, instead of > closing herself off in her own pure hermetically sealed world of > ideals, Dorothy expanded her interests and her activities. > At Montclair the next year, she was editor-in-chief of the school’s > yearbook, The Palatine. She was also elected class president and > won myriad honors along with one or two others in each cat- > egory: most popular, brightest, student who did the most for the > > school and class, best talker, joy of the faculty, peppiest, most > unselfish, and best leader. A classmate’s brother, Dr. Robert E. > Fuller, recalled, > As I look back on those few social events that included me, > I remember Dorothy in a special way. There was meaning of > personal interest when she greeted you, there was character > and dignity in her behavior, and when she spoke of life there > was eloquence to her words. Instead of deflating me she in- > spired me to use my mind and think along with her. > Whatever the qualities were that captivated and charmed her > classmates and friends, they were developed as a result of Dorothy’s > growing understanding of the choices life offers and of her deci- > sion to depend on an underlying purpose in order to make those > choices correctly. As she matured, the threads of her various ideas > and aspirations twisted together to form a strong cord that gave > her life direction. To one friend, Bernice Nickerson Vanderbilt, > “Dorothy gave the impression of being very sure of herself. Her > enthusiasm was enhanced by a personal magnetic quality.” A so- > rority sister and close friend in Pi Sigma, Hammie Toner, com- > mented, “For one of her age she had the rare combination of wit, > intellect and a great sense of spiritual values. One couldn’t have a > mean thought or say an unkind word in her presence. One just > didn’t, that’s all.” > > As Dorothy became more and more sure of the beliefs that would > guide her life and influence the lives of people around her, her > brother was busy finding a way of his own. Early on he had been > independent. Home from his first day at elementary school, he > announced to his mother, “My name is not Chauncey anymore, > > call me David.” Later he was no less determined to forge the kind > of life he chose, regardless of what his family thought. > While Dorothy was at Montclair, David went to the Univer- > sity of Miami. Technically, he studied engineering, but he be- > came most proficient at attracting members of the opposite sex. > When he visited the family at home or Dorothy at college, more > than one of his sister’s friends found him irresistible. > He combined the charm and mannerliness he had learned at > home with the reckless appeal of a marauder. Barely concealed > below his respectable Beecher attitudes was a lascivious quality > unknown before to the sheltered young ladies he met through > Dorothy. > For years to come Dorothy lived through David’s loves and > marital mishaps, suffering both with him and with the friends > whose hearts he broke. Eventually she became adept at anticipat- > ing his next attraction and its consequences. This led to some > platonic chiding on her part or, when the situation seemed hope- > less, to straightforward counseling on the moral responsibilities > of love. > Although he never acknowledged that Dorothy’s attitudes were > anything but prudish, under the veneer of patronizing good hu- > mor David, at times, listened. He often mimicked her “precious > piety,” trying to get through to the real feelings, which he sus- > pected were more like his own, only veiled under his little sister’s > pointless desire to conform. > Dorothy’s convictions troubled David, as David troubled Dor- > othy. The two formed a perfect counterbalance for each other, > too perfect to be easily shifted. At moments, in thought or con- > versation, their instincts brought them together, but they contin- > ued to live their lives with opposite goals. > > Chapter 4 > Grammar school teacher and suitors, 1920 > David let the screen door slam closed behind him, but it couldn’t > be heard in the airy hall that served as a cafeteria for the Green > Acre Bahá’í School. Like all eating places where people enjoy be- > ing together more than they delight in the food, the noise level > didn’t allow for interruption. Looking through the familiar faces, > his eyes grew sharp as they found their mark. > Just beyond the third of the tall windows that looked out onto > the lawn sat his sister. From his position at the door he watched, > rigid, on point. Although Dorothy was apparently involved in > animated discussion, the room melted before David as his con- > centration mounted. The voices were so many and so loud that > they mixed together until he couldn’t have known, even if he had > cared, whether the sound came from humans or from a swarm of > sparrows outside. > With his dark blue eyes still focused on Dorothy, David let the > sounds of the dining hall neutralize into silence as he watched his > sister. Dorothy, perhaps aware of a difference in the mood of the > room, perhaps only letting her gaze drift to the double doors at > the end of the long, high hall, suddenly connected with his per- > sistent presence. For an immeasurably brief moment nothing > changed as they held each other in balance. Then she raised a > motioning hand and David, shooting back into the reality of noon > at Green Acre, moved toward her. > A shock of light brown hair fell across his brow, catching light, > > turning to wheat as he passed by the windows between them. > Golden from the summer’s Maine sun, his face looked alive with > wry interest in life around him. David seemed in possession of all > the alertness and intelligence his mother saw in him and his fa- > ther demanded of him. > A quick grin was greeting enough before he spoke his inten- > tions. “I’m off, Dottie, up to Canaan.” > “Aren’t we both going up after the session? Aunt Susie’s expect- > ing us both.” > David watched his foot scrape at the grit between his shoe and > the oak floor. The pose—head bent down, eyes staring—didn’t > fit his self-image, but his sister’s face would only remind him of > perceptions that were harder to define. “I’m off—to marry Lila. > That’s why I’m going up now I just wanted to let you know.” > With his jaw set, he raised his head to catch the impact of the > statement on Dorothy. His eyes strong, determined, confident, > he looked into her lighter blue ones, now soft as she studied her > brother. Was it compassion that made her gaze so tender? It was > compassion he had to guard against. > “I’m glad for you, Dave-o. Lila … so you asked her.” > Dark hands on white cloth supported David’s leaning weight. > Dorothy reached over and lightly covered one of them with her > own. Unable to accept this act of nurturing which it seemed so > natural for her to provide, he shook his hand free and bent down > as if to comfort Dorothy instead. > “Don’t you start feeling lonely without your big brother.” > “We’ll still be together a lot.” Dorothy smiled but had the dis- > tressing sensation she was saying the words for him rather than > for herself. > Aware only of her brother, Dorothy’s mind fill with fear for > him. She struggled for some other feeling. Too late. Instinctively, > he must have known. He pulled himself away. As sure of his re- > > sponse as he had seemed of hers, Dorothy forced her words to > break the silent connection that allowed their minds such insis- > tent understanding. > “I hope you’ll be happy, and Lila too.” He looked relieved that > she spoke as if at ease and, seeming more than ready to finish > what was to be done, David, in his own words, was “off.” Just as > he reached the door, a voice called him back. No one heard David > mutter, “Hell, what does she want now?” > A second later Dorothy looked up from the heavy porcelain to > see him walking toward her and wondered why he silently leaned > again, head cocked, waiting. For an instant they looked expect- > antly at one another. When the stillness became uncomfortable > Dorothy finally opened her mouth, hoping for words, but they > resisted. > David said, “What is it, Dot?” > “Nothing. I … I just wondered why you came back.” > “Because you called me back, of course.” > “No, I didn’t.” > David smiled at her mischief. “Come on … what is it?” > Laughing, she sputtered her same reply. Whatever the joke, it > seemed to be over. David patted her hand and, with a wink, turned > and again started out for Canaan. This time Dorothy watched > until he disappeared. She saw the screen doors spring shut and > heard their bang, audible now that the dining hall had cleared > somewhat. But she looked up a moment later and there, again, > stood David. > “Dottie, what do you want?” > Nothing. She saw the tight muscles working in his neck. As his > hands gripped the table edge, her eyes dropped, not to watch > them, but to avoid his pain. > “You called me again!” > “I didn’t call you, I swear.” > > “Of course you did, I heard you from outside. You said my > name.” > He meant it. He had heard her calling out to him. Fear left her > and she stood. > “Dave, I didn’t call you, not the first time and not this time. > Maybe it was your own mind telling you … to wait, telling you > it might be a mistake to marry Lila, at least to marry her now.” > Dorothy, holding her brother’s hands, felt them go wet and > saw the stubbled skin above his sharply defined upper lip begin to > shine with perspiration. The lips parted to form the silent words > of a prayer or a curse. Again freeing himself from Dorothy’s grasp, > a grasp too cool and too sure, David stepped back. > He gave a big grin—forget it, “I’ve gotta move. Lila’s waiting.” > That summer of 1920, David married. The marriage produced > a baby girl, Susie, then ended. A memorable summer for Dorothy > too, it began a curious kind of measuring in her life. Inspired by > the opportunities Green Acre afforded for intimate contact with > outstanding Bahá’ís of the day—people she’d met as a child but > had never really known—Dorothy left summer school ill at ease > with her life and again, or still, anxious to change. > On August 18 she wrote, for the second time in her twenty- > one years, to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Eight years after meeting Him, she > longed to see Him once more, this time in the Holy Land, where > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá lived as a result of the exile of His Father, Bahá’u’- > lláh. Due to their forced residence in the prison city of ‘Akká, > the world center of the Bahá’í Faith developed on Mount Carmel, > the very place where, according to the Old Testament, the angel > Michael revealed to Elijah the mysteries of the time of the end. In > Dorothy’s copy of The Glorious Kingdom of the Father Foretold, > she marked a passage from Isaiah 35:2: “… the excellency of > Carmel and Sharon, they shall see the Glory of the Lord.” The > power of Dorothy’s attraction to this place and to the Bahá’í Faith > > was deeply rooted in her belief that Bahá’u’lláh fulfilled Biblical > prophecy regarding the time of the end and the second coming. > But in 1920 Dorothy was not able to meet ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in the > Holy Land. The tragedy for her, and for the world, is that by the > end of the next year ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s earthly life was over. Pilgrims > > 12. Dorothy about 1919, the year she graduated from Montclair. > > for the rest of eternity would be satisfied and, indeed, deeply grate- > ful, to visit the Shrine on Mount Carmel where His body was laid > to rest. > > The fall of 1920 found Dorothy back in Montclair, having gradu- > ated from normal school two springs before and about to begin > her second year of grammar school teaching. She moved back > into Mr. and Mrs. Ralph’s boarding house where she had lived > since the beginning of her teaching career. In a letter written to > her mother that September, after taking care of a few drudgeries > such as how many fifteen-dollar checks Dorothy’s mother had > sent versus how many Dorothy received, she got down to the > essential in her young life: romance. > > It was such fun to arrive today. Aren’t people nice to be so > cordial? The Ralphs were darling. Also everyone else in the > house. Felt just like a regular homecoming. There’s a closed- > in front porch now, and not one failed to inform me that it > was built for me. You see it used to be a joke ‘cause my call- > ers had to camp out on the piano stool. Doc Young was > awfully funny about it. They roar when I say I’m going to be > a staid old schoolmarm. Doc says, “yes—around midnight > you are a very good imitation of a school teacher. Lord, what > is this world coming to?” And then everybody mentions the > closed porch again and thinks it’s a good joke. Then they > mention the people who just happened to ask when I was > expected back—and howl with Mirth. Great life. Mr. Ralph > reminds me of Dave with his talk of scalps. > Cliff has gone to college in Pittsburg and the Ralphs were > lonesome—till I came, they said. > Last night I spent in East Orange at Win’s. We went to > > Summit to a dance at the Buchwood Hotel. Bob and Win,— > Dede Holbrook (who owned the car), Louie Levinsohn— > boy from Montclair, Alston and last of all—me. Had fun. > Got lost coming home, though. Ask Anti Dove if that was > “imprudent”? > I’m going to be really awfully good and go to bed early all > the time and never have any dates. I owe it to my work. > Don’t you think so? Tell Aunt Susie that. Also, please believe > it. I mean it. > By the way, I don’t see how I ever liked B— — B— — > even a little. I think he’s slimy. He’s a cat. I told him I wouldn’t > trust him in a cell. … We quarrelled. Biff writes nice letters > but is a little conceited. > Haven’t heard from Chet since being back. Guess he > doesn’t know I’m here anyway. > Elliott—as usual. > Ken—quite steady. > Montclair friends—not yet—and besides, I’m being good. > There! Whew! You’re up on all the news. Say, do you like > it or does it all bore you? Tell me. It’s more my nature not to > talk about it all anyway, you know. I didn’t last year. > > Dorothy also sent home the good news that everybody said she > looked “much fatter” and that she had been trying and trying to > get in touch with her father’s office so she could go over to > show off what was, for her usually pale skin, “quite wonderful color.” > And once again she committed herself, in writing, to her beliefs. > Perhaps Dorothy left this for the end of the letter so her parents, > who were not yet Bahá’ís, wouldn’t be upset by what was already > a deep feeling for the Bahá’í Faith. “I haven’t forgotten that I’m a > Bahá’í now and forever. Think that’s what’s making me feel so > > wonderful. Told Winifred all about it. She is quite enthusiastic > and is going to help me put it over to Isabel who we think needs > it.” > > Exactly a month later Dorothy’s devotion to the Faith was just > as evident in the mail home, but her determination to live a mo- > nastic life of all work and no dating was wavering. > Last night, do you know, I was one wee bit sad about some- > thing, oh just one minute, and right the next minute the > Greatest Name1 came to my lips, and oh, do you think I > wasn’t happy? Floods. Floods. And then today I whispered it > to the empty seats in my little heaven, and oh, do you think > we weren’t happy when they all came filing in? More floods. > Lots more. And every time, I think no more can come, but > it does—always. > Grandma, have you any beads for a convenience for Muvs > to say it too? And for Daddy Darlin? Pooh. Now they’ll put > their noses in the air and say they don’t want them or need > them or anything, but never mind, hand them some as you > did me, and before you know it, they’ll be seeing the idea of > them, too. … > Am dated up this weekend, but still, please feel a little > sorry for me, inasmuch as I always am crazy to see the family. > I got all dated up on purpose so as not to notice my absence > from you so much. > > Refers to the Arabic phrase Alláh-u-Abhá, meaning “God is most Glori- > ous.” Its use among Bahá’ís can be compared to the Christian adoption of the > Hebrew term “Hallelujah,” meaning “praise (ye) the Lord.” Many Bahá’ís use > prayer beads to count a particular number of repetitions of the Greatest Name. > > In letters home, Dorothy managed not to dwell on the fact > that at least one of the men in her life was providing a deep ro- > mantic interest. A bright young lawyer who often came down > from Boston to woo her, Elliott was everything Dorothy had ever > imagined wanting to find in a mate. He was educated and kind; > he even had a sharp wit. > To her delight, he’d asked her to marry him. She had agreed > and was sure they would be married by the next summer, but she > wanted to give herself some time before making the engagement > official. > Elliott told her he had forced himself to let her be free for the > summer, after that first year of teaching. He reasoned that Dor- > othy needed a chance to prove to herself she could make a go of > life, on her own. But by late August Elliott was anxious to pin > down the date of their wedding and begin to plan his life. One of > the earliest of Montclair’s clear fall weekends found the two of > them as sure as they had been the spring before that theirs would > be a wedding joyful enough to be worthy of the attention both > their hometowns would give it. > As he walked her up the house steps that Sunday afternoon, > Elliott seemed encouraged by Dorothy’s ebullient mood and sweet > response to his inquiries into the state of her heart. She was as > drawn to him as he was convinced of his love for her. So there, on > the very front porch the Ralphs’ enclosed especially for Dorothy’s > suitors, Elliott restated his intention to marry her and promised > to be back that evening for a final talk about setting up the par- > ticulars. It was time, he said, to begin making their plans. Though > she had been putting off setting the date, Dorothy agreed the > time to decide had come. > In her room she threw her handbag on the armchair near the > foot of the bed and pushed open the curtains to let her proud > certitude spread out to the world. There, at the end of the block, > > she saw Elliott’s car, just moving around the corner. For a mo- > ment Dorothy’s spirits dimmed. Then she realized it was only his > driving away that made her sad and so before long she was able to > bring herself back, almost to the same high level of confidence in > his character, his bearing, in everything about him. But in that > instant something was lost. Now, with Elliott away from her, with > his enthusiasm and adoration no longer physically present, she > couldn’t quite relocate whatever it was that gave her such pleasure > when he was there. Still, she wanted him there. It didn’t add up. > Distraught, Dorothy sat on the bed’s edge, trying to keep her > mind from grappling with the thoughts she wanted to let find > their own order. She prayed and felt herself distanced from the > pressure of Elliott’s needs and her own hopes. Then, her eyes > open, but only her inner perceptions in focus, she let the pattern > of their relationship form. Somehow there was a flaw, a flaw in > her love. It was Elliott who provided all the joy. She was simply > the proud recipient and mirror of his energetic devotion. Now it > didn’t show too badly, but as years passed the pressure on the > fabric of their marriage would grow. What was now only a dropped > stitch would eventually begin the unraveling that nothing could > stop. > Startled by a whistle on the street, Dorothy looked at her watch. > Six P.M. It must be Elliott. How often she had felt her blood rush > at the sound of that familiar whistle and taken the steps two at a > time to see him face to face, his always silhouetted by the street > lamp. But now she sat still. Bound by feelings she wanted to tear > free of, she sat. Elliott, so beautiful and alive. Why resist him? > But still, she couldn’t let herself move. Another whistle. Pulled to > the wall by the force of his will and the power of her own long- > ing, she dared a look from behind the curtains. > He stood, as always, face expectantly turned to the front door, > his face that always, even now, made her smile. Unable to resist > > his presence, she almost stepped between the open curtains, but > instead, not ready to go down, retreated farther along the wall, > farther from the light. Dorothy let the crown of her head fall back > against the flowered wallpaper. Tears drew wet lines over her cheek- > bones, finally reaching and wetting the hair behind her temples. > They weren’t burning waters of lost love, but cold—reminders > from inside that she was now alone. And when—just a moment > later—she could no longer stand his pain or her own and burst > forward to the window, he was gone. > > Chapter 5 > Frank Baker and proposal, 1920–21 > With Elliott come and gone, meeting eligible young men was no > longer one of Dorothy’s primary concerns. If love and marriage > were dependent on finding the most gracious, impressive man > available and falling in love, Dorothy saw no point in continuing > the search. Elliott was all of that, and she had been, or perhaps > still was, in love. > Dorothy didn’t forget him. Weeks later her sense of loss was as > compelling as it had been the day she rushed to her window in > hopes of finding him still standing outside. But the union was > wrong; that much was clearly established in her mind. There was > little comfort, though, in knowing she had made a sage decision. > The reality of living without him was deadly. Life withered with- > out the intense delight of his hand touching hers, without the > promise of seeing his clean-angled face looking at her with such > devotion and rapture—without his need for her, his desire for > her, his enchantment. > The claws of the eagle of love were deeply embedded in > Dorothy’s heart. Nothing seemed able to change that. Facing the > remaining minutes and hours of life that stretched into eternity > and realizing they would each and all be lived without him nulli- > fied any hope of joy. Ahead was only pain, if she concentrated on > self. The only possibility left was to throw her burning soul into > whatever service opened and pray that its needs would devour > her own. > > Dorothy’s students, for a time almost forgotten, now domi- > nated her attention. They were children of many races, but most > of them the dark-eyed offspring of Newark’s southern Italian > immigrants. She began to center her life around theirs. Second > grade protocol was pushed aside more and more as she discovered > ways of exciting their desire to learn outside the standard color- > ing books and building blocks. She sang to them “Lady Golden- > rod,” “Yama Man,” children’s songs, and the hits of the day. The > children would sit, listening in silent adoration until eventually > they began to learn the words and sing along with the light of > their lives, “Miss Beecher.” > Many of them, their own clothes sewn on for the whole win- > ter, were fascinated by Dorothy’s wardrobe. When she tried to > teach her students to identify colors on the chart set up in the > classroom, they weren’t interested. But Dorothy found they could > always identify the color she was wearing, so she taught them that > way. A hot pink skirt and orange blouse were favorites, rare colors > in the Newark slums. > The school initiated a once-a-week bath program, which meant > all the children had to take off their winter outfits at least that > often. Dorothy’s students were the most cooperative, perhaps > hoping their clothes would be replaced by colorful ones like hers. > They were not, but at least the children were cleaner and stayed > healthier through the cold months. > The steps Dorothy took with her class, deemed small in the > eyes of a school system that emphasized rote learning, led to her > recognition that spring by the Ethical Culture School in New > York. She was offered a job there, but had to turn it down. Life by > then had surprised her with exactly what she didn’t expect. > Her mind had actually cleared somewhat. The emotions that > had once threatened to destroy her were weakened by new under- > standing. In some ways marrying Elliott would have meant be- > > coming Elliott. With him she would have had to make a full com- > mitment, not just to him, but to his style of life. For many women > marriage seemed to be that simple—picking a person whose po- > sition in the world was attractive and joining in. Not that Elliott’s > “position” was bad. Dorothy knew she had the potential to fit in > very well, but swallowing whole his already well-developed sense > of self and purpose, his social, moneyed, ambitious though ethi- > cal lifestyle, was too easy. There could never have been the chance > to find out what she could become without Elliott’s influence. By > joining a similar personality already moving in a given direction, > she would have given up all other options. The emotional inde- > pendence that followed these discoveries elated Dorothy. Life be- > gan to have its joys once again. > Mr. and Mrs. Ralph’s boarding house—their converted family > home—still had the feeling of family, and Dorothy relished be- > longing. In the evening, the Ralphs sat down to dinner with their > “guests” while a hired lady served them all. That September a > woman who didn’t live at the house began joining the little group > at dinner. She was always accompanied by a young girl and a > slightly older boy who were introduced as Sara and Conrad. As it > turned out, the woman was not their mother, but their nanny. > When the father, a widower, was out of town she had full charge > of Connie and Sally, as she called them. Even when he was home > and caring for the children himself, their father often brought > them to the Ralphs for dinner, so Dorothy, now a master at be- > friending youngsters, had gotten to know them both quite well. > Sara was becoming very devoted to Dorothy, who, having little > else to do besides visit with the other diners after the evening > meal, usually stayed downstairs, often playing and talking with > the little girl. One evening Sara announced that their father would > be bringing them the next night. > “Won’t you be glad to see him, Miss Beecher?” > > Of course she would, Dorothy said, trying to remember him, > and she’d be especially glad to see Sara. Then Dorothy kissed her > goodnight while Sara grinned. As Dorothy walked up the stairs > she waved down at the child in the entry hall. But the smile was > gone from Sara’s face. She just watched as Dorothy walked to- > ward her room, then finally lifted her hand in a last goodnight. > Dorothy couldn’t help wondering if it might not be too hard on > Sara to become so attached. Her mother was gone, but Dorothy > could hardly substitute. > At dinner the next evening Sara sat immediately across from > Dorothy with her father and brother to her right. She talked about > her day at school, then asked Dorothy to tell about her students. > “Well, they’re a little bigger than you are. Are you six or seven?” > “Almost seven.” > “Most of my students are seven or eight, but a few of them are > very grown up, or at least they try to act that way.” > “Do they try to read hard books or what?” > “Not exactly. Today one boy was saying some things he really > shouldn’t have, out on the playground.” > “Oh, what did he say?” > The adults within earshot, including Sara’s father, turned to > hear what Dorothy would answer. > “Instead, let me tell you what he said when I called him inside. > He stood by my desk while I talked to him. I said, ‘Joey, you have > such a beautiful mouth. It makes me so sad to hear words that are > ugly come from a sweet mouth like yours.’ He has eyebrows that > look exactly like half circles. The longer I talked, the higher they > went on his forehead, until he was looking at me with this aston- > ished expression.” > Dorothy raised her own eyebrows higher. Sara laughed, then > became serious. “Did he cry?” > “No, but when I stopped, he walked right over next to my > > chair so his face was almost level with mine and stared at me for a > moment. His eyebrows were still way up here. Then he put his > arms around me and hugged me so hard and said, ‘Miss Beecher, > when I grow up I’m going to build you a bi-i-ig red castle.’” > Everybody smiled, except Sara, who looked rather desperate. > “Please, Miss Beecher, don’t go live in that boy’s castle. Come live > with us. If you will, I’ll let you have my turn in Daddy’s bed!” > Because he was gone so much, Sara and Conrad’s father let the > children take turns sleeping in his big bed on nights when he was > home. Sara was offering her most cherished gift, but to the adults > present it was a good joke. As they repeated her offer around the > table, everyone laughed again with those who missed it the first > time, and Dorothy glanced at the man who sat across the table. > She blushed at the implication of Sara’s suggestion but covered it > with laughter as hearty as that of the other boarders. Still, when > the rest went on to other subjects, she again looked over at the > quiet older man who sat opposite. After explaining something to > Conrad, he was just turning back to Sara, and as he did he hap- > pened to glance at Dorothy. This time Sara’s joke couldn’t explain > the sudden surge of color in Dorothy’s white skin, nor could laugh- > ter cover her embarrassment as she lowered her eyes to her plate > and wondered, as she fumbled with her fork, if Frank Baker found > her foolish. > > Frank was a large man, tall and quite heavy. His reserved nature > combined with his substantial bulk to make him seem forbid- > ding, yet there was a vulnerable quality about him. When Dor- > othy and Frank met, he was almost thirty-one years old and was > already part of the solid middle class his German father and grand- > father had worked so hard to join. Theirs had been lives of du- > rable effort marked by the small and large triumphs that tend to > give one’s self-image consistency and substance. Frank might have > > seemed to be a man content with a similar role. He was an able > businessman, working as production manager of all the north- > eastern National Biscuit Company bread bakeries. > Like his forebears, he was good at the bakery business and en- > joyed it. However, there was a detached quality about Frank that > distinguished him from the rising young executive who sees will > as an absolute force, whose boisterous confidence is matched only > by the occasional sinking sense of his own inadequacy. Frank had > a steadiness not easily shaken. > Frank’s grandfather, like five of his eight brothers, had left > Germany in 1848 for America. His son, Frank’s father, married a > Miss Stolzenbach, so Frank’s heritage was German on both sides. > The family lived in a German enclave in Zanesville, Ohio. De- > spite his grandfather’s and father’s success in America, while Frank > was growing up the family spoke only the mother tongue at home > and retained many German qualities and traditions. He was taught > to be responsible and thorough, to express his thoughts but to > suffer his feelings quietly. > At seventeen Frank had almost died of typhoid. Delirious for > days, he recovered consciousness enough to wonder at his mother’s > absence from his bedside. Protecting Frank’s weakened nerves, > the doctor lied that his mother was in bed, too ill to come to him, > but recovering. It was only when Frank was well enough to leave > his bed and his room that he learned the truth: She had died of > the disease that almost took his life. The fear of unexpected loss > never left Frank. > After high school, and following a summer at his father’s bak- > ery, Frank went off to Yale like his brother Carl before him, and > Robert later. But unlike the other boys, Frank got married during > his sophomore year to a New Haven girl, Mary Quentin. > Mr. Baker gave the marriage his blessing when he found out > about it the next summer, but told his son the only responsible > > action was to leave school and begin work so he could support his > wife. Frank took a job with his father’s Plezol Bakery in Zanesville. > Having Mary with him must have made the sacrifice of his edu- > cation worthwhile. She crocheted and embroidered the linens, > bore their two children, and fed them all with her devotion and > her dinners. In Mary he found again the steady sustenance that > had been missing since his mother’s death. Then, quite suddenly, > Mary died of pneumonia. > Frank left his hometown for a new life in Montclair, but there > was little joy to be found anywhere without Mary. Laconic and > disciplined as he was, perhaps no one knew the pain Frank suffered > at the repeated loss of the most beloved women in his life—his > mother, then his wife. For those who confess sadness less easily, > whose cries are silent, the inner sea of tears must evaporate slowly; > it can’t be washed away by a violent but mercifully swift storm of > anguish. > Despite his loss and his intense personal agony, Frank Baker > carried on, coming home to Conrad and Sara as often as business > allowed, comforting them on the evenings he was there, sharing > their loneliness as they took turns sleeping in his big bed. When > he met Dorothy two years after Mary’s death, Frank had that spe- > cial quality of an individual whose suffering has made him out- > wardly stern and strong, but whose heart is more open than ever > to love and tenderness. > Dorothy had never gone out with an older man, but when > Frank finally asked her to the theater a few weeks after the dinner > matchmaking by Sara, she accepted. He wasn’t that much older— > only nine years—but they were critical years. Born in 1889, Frank > spent his childhood in another era. Even after the turn of the > century, life continued to be dominated by old-world mores and > ideas in the German settlement where the Bakers had lived for > three generations. When Frank was fathering his first family, > > Dorothy was still a schoolgirl. His experience, when they met, > was that of a man a generation older than she. > Whatever the two did not have in common, by the winter of > 1920 both had felt the fragility of happiness. Elliott could have > supplied Dorothy with everything her background encouraged > her to seek, but she had known it would be a fatal mistake to > marry him. She saw the flaws in her conditioning and rejected > Elliott, as Frank, through tragedy, learned not to trust that the > most traditional setting was necessarily the most secure. > The romanticized hero figure did not form the basis of Doro- > thy’s attraction to Frank. Nor could Frank have considered her— > a young woman of distinctly absent household skills and a friend, > not a mother, to Sara and Conrad—as a substitute for Mary. What > Dorothy and Frank found together was something new. > Over the next seven months they became aware of their love > and the quality of that love. Neither found in the other a mate > who fit into the image of what they had once thought they wanted, > but their love went beyond that. Each cared not so much for the > outer self of the other, the self that is so easily seen and judged, > but for the true self, the inner spirit that can be recognized only > by the pure and sincere heart. > On the way home from New York one March evening, after a > trip to Broadway and dinner at a favorite Italian restaurant, Frank > Baker asked Dorothy Beecher to marry him. > > June 18, 1921, the green lawns of the Budd Lake house had been > trimmed and raked, folding chairs set up to accommodate the > hundred or so guests. It was the same house where, nineteen years > before, Dorothy had waited on the porch for her grandmother to > take her to meet ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Dorothy had explained the Bahá’í > teachings, social and spiritual, to Frank. He understood and ac- > cepted their veracity. > > The ceremony would be in the large living room of the family > lodge, but the reception was supposed to be outside. Earlier in > the month there had been some rain. Dorothy worried, right up > to the day, that her garden party would be forced onto the cov- > ered porch. > But upstairs in her room, she didn’t even notice that the skies > were clear as the guests began to assemble on the lawn. It was a > quarter of two, and they were already arriving. Dorothy stared > out the window and thanked God she didn’t have to be down > there yet. > Not that she wasn’t ready. She was. Her brown hair, cupped > under just at the top of the jaw, was already encircled with a gar- > land of flowers from which a long veil fell below the hem of her > mid-calf satin dress. Dorothy had been dressed for quite a while, > but kept putting off admitting it. Instead, when her parents were > in the room, she busied her hands with final adjustments and > made sure her eyes never met theirs. > With her mother and father finally both downstairs, Dorothy > stood alone, gazing out of her childhood bedroom, her prison > and her protection. In spite of the humid warmth, Dorothy had > closed the window that faced onto the side yard where some of > the guests stood chatting. Outside she could see Frank’s daughter > running between the little groups of people, with Conrad close > behind. She couldn’t see what Sara was doing, but whatever it > was, the guests were laughing. Conrad wasn’t. He looked angry as > he charged around after his younger sister. > With one hand Dorothy touched the dropped waist of her > wedding dress, then turned to the mirror. There, next to it, stood > her bags, ready to be carried down to Frank’s car. She almost > smiled in recollection of his dry joke that by marrying him at > least she wouldn’t have to change the monograms on her luggage. > That would not change. But everything else would, and she > > wondered why she had ever wanted it to. Her affection for Frank > was deep and fond, but what did marrying him really accom- > plish? Then she would be able to take care of Sara and Conrad, > but their nanny was probably better at it. Dorothy remembered > how she and Frank seemed to offer each other comfort and sup- > port, but suddenly she didn’t feel she needed it anymore. > Tall and lean, her father stepped into the room. “It’s a bit warm > in here, isn’t it, Dottie?” Without waiting for an answer he strode > over to the window and opened it. “That’s better.” Even this small > act of wisdom seemed to please him. He stood facing the win- > dow, breathing in the moist air that blew off Budd Lake. > “Well, downstairs the state of affairs is just as Luella planned. > Everyone is ready and waiting for what she promised will be the > prettiest bride, the best cake, and the strongest punch of the pair- > ing season.” Henry liked his own jokes and had a good chuckle > over this one, his nervousness adding to his normal ebullience. > Dorothy pretended to make use of the mirror’s image, straight- > ening the sleeves of her dress. But in its reflection she watched > Henry, behind her, looking out at the lawn and talking about the > progress of the party. She knew he was trying to encourage her > with his plenitude of words, but it wasn’t working, and there > seemed no reason to go on pretending. She was too tired. Dor- > othy turned to her bed and, oblivious of the yards of white net- > ting that followed, folded herself up on the end farthest from the > door. > “What is it, my dear? Are you ill?” Henry, his long hands more > accustomed to aggressive motion than to the soothing that now > seemed required, nonetheless reached toward the back of his > daughter’s head, hesitated, then smoothed the dark hair. “Please, > Dottie, don’t leave me here wondering. What’s the matter?” > Dorothy sat up and pushed herself into his arms. “I don’t want > this. I was wrong to say I would marry him.” > > “You’re just afraid now. You’ll feel better.” > “No, I won’t. I never want to marry him.” > Henry was quiet as he held his daughter close. > “Then perhaps you shouldn’t.” > “How can I? I was wrong to say I would. I don’t even know, > anymore, if I love Frank. Maybe I don’t.” > Dorothy’s new confidence in her father’s compassion let the > fear that had been building stream out in her tears. Between jerk- > ing sobs she said, “But I have to, I have to marry him now.” > “No you don’t, not if you don’t want to.” > The sobs increased and Dorothy held him tighter. Henry leaned > down so Dorothy was lying on the bed. He sat next to her. “You’re > not sure you love the man. You feel under pressure to marry. Well, > you needn’t feel pressure. There should be no rush to marry him, > feeling as you do.” > “But everyone’s here. Frank’s waiting.” > “Don’t base your decision on that. A few disappointed guests is > nothing compared to years of remorse. I’ll say you’re ill and ev- > eryone will go home. That simple. Frank and I will talk it over in > private.” He started for the door. > “No … no, wait a minute.” Closing her eyes, Dorothy turned > her heart away from the immediacy of herself, and of her fears, to > God. She tried to isolate what it was she really wanted, but in her > distress, she couldn’t. The wind on her face made her open her > eyes again, only to see a piece of stationery lifted from the desk > by the same breeze. The gentle presence of a force so indifferent > to life’s great decisions distanced Dorothy from her choice as well. > The real fear wasn’t of not loving, but of losing something. In > the past, life could have gone any way at all, but marriage would > bring definitions of herself and her existence that despite Frank’s > openness, would be confining. It was marriage that made her afraid; > the restrictions, the roles brought on by any marriage. Dorothy > > was quiet as she followed her thoughts, letting them lead. But > marriage to Frank didn’t mean joining some standardized institu- > tion. It meant she would live with a man she loved, with a man > whose love for her wasn’t based on her personality, but her per- > son. The outer self can find relationships that thrill but don’t sus- > tain. Frank’s love went beyond that to love for her true self, not > for some concocted image of Dorothy Beecher as a beautiful > woman or perfect wife. And the roots of her love for him—they > were growing, grounding her more deeply in the values she and > Frank shared. > As she sat, her ringless hand upon the bedpost, these thoughts > formed not as an argument for marriage, but as a distillation of > fear from fact. The heavy stone of her anxiety had almost > effortlessly been turned over, and there truth lay, plain and real. > In an instant she gave in, not to the pressure of the moment, > but to the knowledge that whatever came with Frank would be > good. > Calmed, this time by her own hand rather than Henry Beecher’s, > Dorothy descended the stairs with her father, and nothing was > spoken of her moment of doubt. > > Chapter 6 > Marriage, birth of Louise, and the psychic, 1921–23 > With her luggage stowed in the trunk of Frank’s dark blue Packard, > Dorothy was surprised at how secure she felt sitting in the front > seat next to her husband, when only hours before she had been > ready to continue life without him. The children didn’t share her > satisfaction. Frank’s description of summer camp in New Hamp- > shire had done nothing to relieve their indignation at not being > included on the honeymoon. > Both Conrad and Sara stood in the cluster of older ladies that > had formed in front of the car. Conrad was more or less waving > along with everybody else. Sara had at least stopped crying, but > she stood absolutely sullen in the midst of the fluttering grand- > mothers. Hat feathers and gloved hands waved while the small > girl stood straight and still. From behind, Dorothy’s mother, > Luella, leaned down over Sara and in an effort to help her wave > lifted one short arm. The hand hung limp, but the grimly set > young face responded to Luella’s attention. Pouting lips separated > and Sara’s brow furrowed into uneven wedges, the course of lines > still unset by the myriad frowns and smiles of a lifetime. For a > blessed second there was no sound. Perhaps she was only yawn- > ing? Then cutting through farewells and whisperings of “What a > perfect couple,” and “Those two deserve happiness, if anybody > does,” came Sara’s sharp cry. Finally, wrinkled faces drew closer, > white handkerchiefs dabbed and fluttered around Sara’s eyes and > > 13. The wedding party at Budd Lake, June 18, 1921. > Left to right: Frank and Dorothy, Frank’s younger brother, > Robert, and Libby Rice. > > then around older eyes, adding more busy motion to the already > waving, buzzing hive of ladies. > From inside the car, Dorothy wondered if she saw Conrad wince > or if it was only the wind off the lake that made him turn his > head, eyes closed, for a moment. It must have been the wind > because a second later Sara’s skirt billowed enough to show the > matching bloomers that at happier moments that day had made > her so proud. > In the front seat Dorothy and Frank had a world of their own, > but they exchanged a glance, wondering silently if they should go > or stay to again comfort Sara. Neither spoke; Frank started the > Packard. The noise was enough to send gloved hands to ears in > the little group near the car. Conrad took the moment to break > free and run to his father’s open window, followed by Sara, de- > spite the soft hands and words that reached to stop her. The > > children’s goodbyes were more intense than any when Frank went > away on bakery business. This time he was leaving because he > wanted to and leaving with someone Conrad and Sara had trusted > as their friend. > Dorothy watched from the passenger side, unsure of how to > include herself or even if she should try. She waited through tears > and kisses for any sign from Sara or her brother that they needed > comfort beyond their father’s care. None came. It was Dorothy > who winced now and turned to her own window, calling out last > thanks and goodbyes to the friends, the old and new relations > who came close to the car to give final words of advice and fare- > well. > The Packard began to roll backward down the drive, and Dor- > othy felt her breath release. Sara and Conrad, at least for now, > must be all right. But her relief was mixed with a new anxiety > that made her talkative and giddy: For the first time she was alone > with her husband. “Sara with those bloomers! Wasn’t she funny > showing them off?” > Frank turned the car into the street, backing farther away from > the gathering on the lawn. “To everybody but Connie. Keeping > Sara modest kept him busy.” > “Really, busy doing what?” > “Didn’t you see him running after her, pulling her skirts down?” > “Oh, that’s what he was up to. I did see him following her … > from up in my room.” Dorothy forced her mind to retreat from a > replay of her feelings just before the wedding, of the doubts she > suffered looking down at the wedding party that almost didn’t > include her. > Heading the right way now, Frank put the Packard in first. > Moments before, the two of them had formed such a close unit, > watching everything from inside the car. Now, as it moved slowly > past the house and lawn, Dorothy’s entire concentration locked > > into the little group that moved with them down the gravel road > toward the lake. In her mind she was still there on the grass with > her parents and grandparents. But the car kept rolling, past her > family and onto Lake Shore Road. No doubt now, she was alone > with Frank, and the honeymoon she had longed for, yet feared, > was underway. That night she wrote home. > > Waterbury, Conn. > “The Baltimore” > June 18, 1921 > Will keep you posted along the way. > Darling Muvs and Daddy and Grandma! > We’re here, happy as clams at high tide. > Wasn’t everything wonderful? I was so proud of every- > thing and everybody, especially Daddy, who marched beau- > tifully. Frank and I agreed that the whole affair was perfect > in every way. > How I do adore you all. You are all so perfect a family. > Love— > Dottie > > And a few days later Dorothy wrote, > > Ritz-Carlton Hotel > Montreal > Dear Muvs, > What a wonderful life we are living! First beautiful hotels > with spacious rooms and baths, and then, thru’ the day, white > clouds, blue sky and green trees—mountains, valleys, mead- > > ows. Marvelous weather, campfires for red tenderloin steaks > and chicken, ham, potatoes, yes even frogs’ hind legs. One > night we caught seventeen frogs in the sweetest little brook— > over in Vermont. > We are loafing in Montreal for a day or two. Tomorrow— > Thousand Islands. > Frank is an Angel. All I do is look a wish and behold—it > is here. > I have not taken out the little box at all. That is one of my > wishes, and that is enough. Isn’t it marv? > I love you as always—and dear Grandma and Daddy too. > Dottie > PS.—Later After dinner > … Frank drank a whole quart of Burgundy and two dry > Martinis. I had a Martini and one glass of Burgundi [sic]. I’m > not as drunk as Frank.1 > PPS.—Next morning > All’s well. Frank dropped a quarter out of the window last > night and spilled ice water while I had a bad case of the > giggles, watching him, but we pulled through all right. … > D. B. > Back in Montclair after the honeymoon, married life was com- > fortable and normal. The Bakers received a young visitor, Edris > > It wasn’t until 1938 that Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, > asked the Bahá’ís of the West to begin observing Bahá’u’lláh’s law forbidding > the consumption of alcohol. > > Rice-Wray, Mabel Rice-Wray Ives’s daughter.1 She visited Dor- > othy and Frank from Vassar College, where she was a student. > Afterwards Edris wrote of Dorothy Baker, “She had become a > young wife, marrying a man somewhat older than herself, with > two children. At that time I could not understand her choice, but > she seemed the typical housewife and mother, content to be just > that.” > If Dorothy’s marriage seemed smooth and unruffled to friends > and observers, it was because she and Frank were determined to > solve any marital problems or else, individually, learn to accept > the difficulties marriage presented. During the first year, when > they lived in Montclair, Dorothy was afraid to talk about money. > Although Frank had a substantial income and included in the > monthly budget a forty-dollar clothing allowance for each of the > children, Dorothy felt it was impossible to ask for anything extra > for herself. It may have been her strict, puritanical upbringing > that kept Dorothy from mentioning that the budget, which was > initially meant only for keeping the house and children (the house- > keeper had received a separate salary for her personal needs), was > not sufficient. When single, as a teacher, Dorothy had been able > to buy a new dress when she wanted one, but on the housekeeper’s > budget there wasn’t even money left for a scarf. > Though her wedding gifts were elaborate and beautiful, Dor- > othy didn’t receive many practical things. The house was ill- > stocked, with only leftover and worn linens and household items > from Frank’s first marriage. It was in real need of refurbishing, > but again Dorothy wouldn’t ask for the necessary funds. The > inflation of the 1920s made matters even worse. > > Edris Rice-Wray later became a physician and moved to Puerto Rico > and Mexico to follow her career in gynecology and obstetrics and to teach > the Bahá’í Faith. > > Perhaps Frank’s generosity in other areas made Dorothy hesi- > tate to mention mundane necessities. He prided himself on giv- > ing her her own car, but because she was so silent about her smaller, > more immediate needs, extra money went to buy her the things > Frank thought she wanted: new golf clubs or dinner at posh res- > taurants. One day Sara brought home twenty-five dollars’ worth > of red roses, bought with money she had saved from her allow- > ance. Dorothy broke into tears, which thrilled Sara, who assumed > she was overcome with joy, but in fact she cried because the funds > could have been used so readily for essentials. > There were also problems raising her two stepchildren. During > Dorothy’s first year of marriage Sara and Conrad sometimes treated > her as an intruder, someone who was trying, unsuccessfully, to > steal the affection they reserved for their real mother. The adjust- > ment was particularly traumatic for Sara, who was used to having > the complete attention of both her father and her brother. An- > other female in their house other than hired help—particularly > following Sara’s exclusion from the honeymoon—made her > moody. > Gradually, however, the problems of the budget and the > difficulties of being a stepmother were largely resolved, though > not without tremendous strain on Dorothy. For months she woke > every morning to find her pillow wet and cold from the tears she’d > cried in her dreams. > Dorothy felt the pressure to succeed in her marriage even more > strongly because every other marital relationship in her immedi- > ate family had failed or was faltering. Her beloved grandmother, > Mother Beecher, and her husband Joseph had been separated for > almost twenty years before his death in 1917. The tension be- > tween Luella and Henry was building, and her brother David’s > marriage to Lila, like most aspects of his business undertakings > and personal life, was torn apart by stress and misgivings. > > So Dorothy kept her own life safe and close. The family came > before all else. Her primary interest became raising Conrad and > Sara and, after May 24, 1922, her own little daughter as well, > Winifred Louise, also known as “Babette.” > > 1088 Elmwood Ave. > Buffalo, N. Y. > Nov. 7, 1922 > Dear Muvsie Wuvs, > Your letter with the Sedatole suggestion came and was > read while in the drug store! All I had to do was to read that > word out loud and now we have the awful stuff in the house. > Thanks very much. It took away the last suggestion of a > cough that little Sara Jane had. > Frankie caught no deer but Curlie Oaks gave him one of > his—a young, tender one. It tastes wonderful. Nothing like > last year’s at all. Wish you bunch were here to try it. … > Won’t it be fun to see you and Fath tho’? I can hardly > wait. Now don’t let Fath get something else to have to do. > Especially after paying Dave a visit he will have to come up > here. Can’t let Dave get ahead of us like that. What’s the > new news about Dave? Is everything going to be all right > anyway, partner or no partner? What got into the partner’s > head? Poor old Davo! He will deserve success when he gets it > all right. Can I be of any assistance to him? He never an- > swers my letters so there won’t be any use in my asking him. > Babette is on a pillow on the floor; feet standing on an > angle of 359 99/100 degrees no longer straight up, but pok- > ing in mouth, eye, ear, or only digging pillow about head. > She can’t see any sense in the straight and narrow way. Her > idea is to resemble a crochet wicket or one of the balls. > > Golf! Oh Boy! Why didn’t I start when Larry Korsher > begged to teach me? Heavens! I can see Fath with a golf club > in his hand. He ought to take it up. It would just suit him. > Tell him to book a professional for three lessons and then go > ahead. > Tell him also that Connie won the tennis championship > in the lower school at Nichols. Next year he will be in the > higher school, so this was his last chance to do it. Ask Dad > to write Connie a little short note if he has time. It would > tickle Connie so if he thought “Uncle Harry” knew and was > pleased. > Babette wins the finger-chewing contest but never sucks > her thumb. Therefore she will never have buck teeth. > Lovingly, > D. > For Dorothy, every day brought some new fascination: what > Babette ate, how long she slept, along with the details of what > Dorothy found to be her amazingly well-developed potty abili- > ties. While Connie and Sara were at school and Frank was at work > or out of town on business, Dorothy and Louise spent their days > together. That first winter after the family’s move from New Jer- > sey to Buffalo, New York, Dorothy rarely left Louise at home > with the maid, but if she did it was usually for something she felt > was vital for the family. When a friend asked Dorothy to visit a > fortune teller with her, it was easy to decline; her mind was at- > tuned to the guiding principle of family responsibilities first. > But after spending most of the time in Buffalo unpacking and > organizing the new apartment, Dorothy was ready for a day off. > So when her friend again begged Dorothy to accompany her to > the fortune teller, explaining all the reasons she was afraid to go > > alone, Dorothy finally acquiesced, calming her own fears by re- > minding herself that she was simply going along as a favor to a > friend, not to become involved in the hocus-pocus herself. > When they reached the psychic’s house, Dorothy concentrated > on the immediate and tangible by thumbing through a magazine > in the living room that doubled as a waiting room. Rebecca1 greeted > the woman as she appeared through a doorway. Dorothy, feeling > fairly protected behind her magazine, couldn’t resist a glance at > the psychic. She was dressed in rather plain, normal-looking > clothes, although the heaviness of the wool skirt emphasized her > thickness. Its fabric looked mottled and dark next to the soft blouse > she wore. Dorothy watched as she circled her, walking distract- > edly nearer, her left hand busy pulling on a gold ring that seemed > to bind her somehow. The right hand, as if working against the > left, wouldn’t release the ring. It looked stiff and uncooperative— > alien. Then both hands dropped to the front of her rough skirt, > palms rubbing down as if to feel the nubby texture. > Dorothy looked up and found the woman’s gaze directly on > her face. “I’ll see you now … Mrs. Baker.” > Dorothy flinched at the sound of her name, but strained to > keep her tone normal, relaxed. > “It’s actually Rebecca who is here to see you, not I.” > “I know, but I’d like to see you.” > “Go ahead, Dottie. I can wait.” > Dorothy was surprised at Rebecca’s matter-of-fact attitude; she > had been so fearful before the visit. With the help of the person > Dorothy was supposedly there to comfort, the situation had > shifted, putting her in Rebecca’s place, afraid and anxious. She > realized her hesitation must seem silly, but did not want to go > > A pseudonym. > > with this woman who didn’t know her, but said her name. Dor- > othy tried to relax the tightening of her jaw. There was, she rea- > soned, no real cause for fear. The woman only wanted to talk. > Then again Dorothy felt a surge of resistance; she did not want to > know her, or the future. She had only recently become comfort- > able with the present. > “I haven’t any money. Perhaps another time.” > “There is no charge.” > Dorothy put down her magazine; there seemed no path to take > but the one the psychic offered. As she stood, the woman turned > and went back through the open door from which she had ap- > peared. Dorothy followed. > The psychic led her to a small oak table. Dorothy sat in un- > comfortable silence. Their first words sounded like the light chat- > ter of casual friends. > “How’s Frank?” > “He’s fine, thank you.” > Instead of relaxing her, the casual nature of the woman’s con- > versation increased the incipient unease Dorothy had felt when > Rebecca first invited her. What had seemed uncomfortable in the > waiting room was now repellent. Dorothy was again distinctly > aware that she did not want to be there. > “Frank. He is your husband?” > Dorothy nodded. > “And Conrad? Your son? No, he’s not your son. But he is. How > is that possible?” > Suddenly determined to find bottom in this woman’s well of > information on her family, Dorothy named her children, and ex- > plained that the two older ones were by Frank’s first wife. Obvi- > ously, the fortune teller had somehow found out the names of her > family; Dorothy felt sure that by listing them all, she had wiped > out her store of information and ended the display of supposedly > > supernatural powers. Instead, the woman seemed inspired by the > names and began to talk about the children—Conrad, the eldest, first. > “He will be around hospitals all his life.” > Dread of harm coming to her son got the better of Dorothy’s > decision to dismiss whatever was said. “You don’t mean he will be > ill?” > “No, not that, but he will always be there. Working? … Yes, > that’s probably it.” > She was quiet, and Dorothy, watching her evident concentra- > tion, was quiet as well. “And now Louise. You must teach her to > deal with people of every culture, to be able to entertain them > and put them at ease. And train her musically. She will live on > many continents and entertain people from all parts of the world. > As for the child you are carrying now, train him carefully.” > “I’m not pregnant!” > Unimpressed, the woman went on. “Yes you are, but be care- > ful with him. He can be successful in either the spiritual or the > material realm. It is up to you, and to him. He is an old soul, but > if he’s not properly trained, all his energies may go into the world > and the material wealth that can be found there.” > The comments on Connie and Louise interested Dorothy, but > the remarks on the character of an unborn child, in fact a non- > existent child, convinced her again that this woman was a fraud, > or perhaps just deluded. There seemed no reason to expose the > poor creature, but Dorothy couldn’t resist reminding her that she > had completely overlooked Sara in her predictions. > “You’ve left out Sara.” > “Yes, her destiny is very different, but quite beautiful. You must > be happy for her. Her destiny is very special.” > Dorothy’s ambivalence about the woman’s abilities and inten- > > tions now came to its illogical conclusion. Across the table she > sat, still looking down, almost through the floor. In fact for most > of their conversation the woman had looked to one side or the > other, letting her eyes drop low; her left, active hand sometimes > playing with a wisp of hair, then floating near her cheek, fingers > working against each other. But now, reflected in the longish face > Dorothy saw the look of a person humbly struggling with her > powers; missing was the pompous expression of a person impressed > with her own strange gifts. Whatever the depth of truth in her > predictions, amorphous as they were, save the idea of pregnancy, > it seemed to Dorothy the woman had an attitude of unpreten- > tious sincerity about her. Dorothy watched until the woman’s dis- > tant gaze refocused, then thanked her and stood to leave. > “Give Frank my regards, and tell him one thing. There is a > message from ‘M.’ He must know this woman, ‘M.’ I see her > looking down at her feet. She’s smiling and saying, ‘I’m all right > now. I can walk!’” > > As Frank and Dorothy sat at the table after dinner that night, the > older children in their rooms with their studies and Louise long > since in bed, she began to explain the visit. Frank, to her surprise, > was fascinated. He listened to every part of the story, having her > repeat the comments about their unborn son. When she finished > they sat musing about the possibilities for their children: Sara’s > special destiny, Louise’s full future. If not believing every word, > they were at least intrigued by their own thoughts and hopes for > the children’s lives. > “Oh, and Frank, according to the psychic, someone called ‘M’ > wants you to know she is all right, and she can walk. Who could > she have meant? She seemed to see this woman standing there > smiling and looking down at her feet.” > > His large, square hands folded under his chin, Frank looked at > Dorothy then down toward his dessert plate, which hadn’t yet > been cleared from the table. She felt a coolness permeate the room. > “Is it someone you know?” > “My cousin Mary’s dead now; don’t know who else it could > be.” His simple logic of remembering a woman whose name started > with “M” relieved Dorothy. An instant before she’d had the feel- > ing there actually was something to the message. > “Oh, but Frank, you know a lot of women whose names start > with an ‘M.’ I can think of several.” > “Not like my cousin Mary. She had club feet.” > Again she felt the coolness that had touched her before and the > psychic’s face came back to her: the thin nose and wide lips, nei- > ther dry nor moist but with a kind of dull sheen. She saw how, > from time to time, the woman had looked over at her, as if to > check that she still sat there. Her eyes weren’t piercing or intense > particularly; the commanding quality was subtler. > For the first time Dorothy consciously connected the experi- > ence of the afternoon with truth. It was only weeks later that the > doctor told her she could expect her second child in seven months. > > Chapter 7 > Move to Buffalo, birth of Bill and the passing of Sara, 1923–26 > 328 Woodbridge Avenue > Buffalo, N.Y. > Tues. Sept. 11 [1923] > Dearest Muvsie Wuvsie, > Everything is wonderful. This morning completed the un- > packing and setting everything to rights. The children cleared > their closets, desks and drawers and fixed their own rooms in > A condition. I began marking them this morning. Sara > got 10- and Connie 10. I told them that just because I couldn’t > catch them this time didn’t mean that some fine morning I’d > walk in and not find shoes on the bureau or socks on the > back of a chair. So it’s quite a game. > We have a cute little fence wired off for Baby, and she > spends an hour or two morning and afternoon out there. > She does my errands in the car with me and is just as good as > gold. You should see her sit up beside me as proud as punch. > As Connie says, “Well Muzzie, if only little Brother is as > sweet and good as Louise, won’t we be happy?”1 Sara and a > little friend are playing with her now, and we must admit > that she is right in her element, Baby, I mean. She has got- > > Dorothy and Frank’s son, William King Baker, was born two and a half > months later, November 26, 1923. > > ten used to Sara’s ways again, and giggles at all her sudden > dives and dips. > The package of clothes came this morning. Thank you. > I’ll watch out for the RH White package, and in the mean- > time, Baby seems as merry and happy as a clam at high-tide. > But if we say, “Where’s Gammy?” she looks around and calls > and then looks at us so grievedly and questioningly. > Tell G. G.1 that I am remembering to read a half hour a > day and that all the world is rosy …. > I am going to call up Heinrick and have a partition put > somewhere, goodness knows where. Guess we’ll let him de- > > 14. Conrad and Sara, 1924. > > Mother Beecher. > > cide. And Frankie says I must go ahead and have new gas > logs or heaters wherever I choose, but I can’t tell yet until the > cold weather comes in. Besides, we’ll see what ready cash we > have, by Oct. 1. I do want a couch. > Sweetest curtains you ever saw arrived yesterday. Am keep- > ing them downstairs, and putting the downstairs ones up. > I fried Sunday’s chicken Grandma’s way Sunday, and Frank > and Connie were crazy about it. Poor little Sara wasn’t feel- > ing well and didn’t eat, but she is all right now. Am going to > make your kind of mayonnaise today. Must go. > Love—D. > > [Spring 1924] > The Onondaga1 > Syracuse, N.Y. > Dear Muvsie, > Am here over tonight with Frank but am going right back > tomorrow. > For mercy’s sake, don’t get frantic when I miss a week > writing, because goodness knows I’m busy, and days slip by > before I know it. However, it does not mean that we are all > having epileptic fits or that the babies have fallen out of third > floor windows. To begin with, we don’t run to fits, and we > have no third floor. Everyone is great. > Here are our plans for the summer. Connie and Sara will > go back to Zanesville with Father Baker after his visit in the > latter part of June. They will spend a couple of weeks. Then, > about the middle of July, they will sojourn to Budd Lake > > A resort hotel > > where I will have arrived, bag and baggage and babies a few > days previously—long enough ahead to get established be- > fore their arrival. They will visit Budd Lake two weeks also, > if this is O.K. with you, and then run on up to Mother > Quentin’s at New Haven for the month of August. She al- > ways banks on that. Frankie will then drive down and get > me, for little trips just make me over, and we will “do” a few > towns, and land in Buffalo for the August horse races, leav- > ing the babies with you if you are sure it won’t tire you, and > if we can get one of the Netcong girls to come up again this > year. Mary, I believe, was your favorite last year. (We run to > Marys.) I may stay in Buffalo a week or two and have the > children’s rooms papered and superintend Mary’s Spring > cleaning, besides making a few little upstairs curtains. Then > I will scoot back for a last week with you, and take the ba- > bies back to Buff. > They will not be parked with you more than three weeks > without me to make them behave. However, if you think > that you might feel the strain of that three weeks in the slight- > est degree, you must ‘fess up, for mercy me! … Anything > you say goes. I think, however, that you will find Louise much > more able to take care of herself now, and play around alone. > … Of course, she appreciates being played with once in a > while, and loves to have you play ball with her, and show her > picture books, etc., but the girl can do that rainy days with > her. Billie is good as gold. No trouble at all, yet, but of course > may be by summer. They get quite active around that age. > Begin to crawl, etc., I s’pose …. > I’ll be so excited to see the three of you. I’ll bet G. G. will > love Billie. He is so sweet and good (Grandma doesn’t mind > homely people—she goes out for the soul, and all that sort > of thing, you know) but Fath will like Louise. She is a happy- > > 15. The Baker family at Budd Lake, July 1923. > > go-lucky little codger these days, but full of the old nick. If > she’s occupied, she is all right. You ought to see her Spring > clothes. She is the cutest thing in them. Darling! Had her > picture taken. Am having an oil painting for an anniversary > present, and a dozen little photos—4 poses—will bring them > down for you to choose. Must close. Lots of love to all— > Dot. > P.S. Haven’t told you any news. Everything is plans. > Well—I still “literate.” The literary club is more a current > events club than anything else, and I’m glad of it. Our sew- > ing club still meets—and occasionally sews. The conven- > tion [of] the “League of Woman Voters” meets in Buffalo > > this week, but I can’t go to the meetings because it’s too > darn much trouble and besides, I’m busy—awfully busy. > Can’t breathe. Getting skinnier all the time. … > Got Connie and Sara each a bunny for Easter. They just > love them. Buddy1 nearly killed one. Scared the poor rabbit > almost to death, but it was noted that the next day a gold- > fish died, leaving John Kratz alone again (John was our first > goldfish, and he does seem to have a tenacious hold on life). > It might have been the psychological effect of scaring the > rabbit that killed the fish. Who knows in this mahvelous day > of vibrations and psycho-everythings? > Aren’t Dave’s poems rotten? I haven’t written him since > for fear of mentioning them. Soon, however, I shall take my > pen in hand once more. Sent him a little book on palmistry, > and will look around for more interesting things of the sort > here in town while I have nothing to do. Hug Popsie Wopsie > and G. G. for me—D. > > Mrs. Frank A. Baker > 328 Woodbridge Avenue > Buffalo, N.Y. > Jan. 23, ‘25 > Dearest Muvsie, > Your picture keeps reminding me to write oftener, so here > goes for a line. I’m afraid the smile will turn to a frown next > time I look at it, if I don’t become more dutiful. > The wardrobe has come at last and is perfectly beautiful. > With my new spread (the N.Y. one) for which I made a blue > > Conrad’s French bulldog. > > underslip to match the rug, and the Italian linen covers for > the chest and bureau, we are nothing short of gorgeous. Only > I’m not going to send you the bill for the wardrobe because > it’s outrageously high, and I never dreamed it would be that > much when I promised, so the bets are off. > Your picture is the comfort of comforts. Everyone loves > it, and oh how I love it. I have never seen any picture of > anyone that I liked as well. Just a small frame, you know, > cozy and homey and not lost in big blankness, as some are > (Mother Baker’s, for instance), and just like you when I love > you best. > Louise can say forty little poems if she can say one, and > she comes out with them at the funniest times, while bus- > tling about the house, or lying in bed,—and the stories she > tells the astute Bill early mornings! “Littule fairy comed in, > Bully. Danced all awound and kissed zu. Said, ‘I love Louise! > I love Bully.’ Flied out a winna—all gone.” All this in ex- > cited staccato. The unmoved and indifferent Bill makes noises > that sound like “Go to hell” but which really mean, “your > voice is music to my ears; can’t understand a word of it, but > I’m just as well pleased,” and smiles benignly upon her, even > venturing a backward squeak and raucous giggle. The poor > little soul, by the way, is trying to get every tooth in his head > through at one and the same time, namely the present. He > gets a little fussy at times, and appreciates a little extra lov- > ing and attention. Hasn’t lost appetite, however, and is ex- > tremely well, except for a regular little series of colds which > nothing seems to permanently check. Louise is nowhere > nearly as open to them somehow. > Am going to send my picture with my new dress soon. > Billie will be in this too, but it is an entirely different mood; > more a cuddly, quizzical one than the jolly, mirthful one > > which you have. I am going to send Dave one, since they are > small, and not much trouble to carry around. > Well, au revoir! Best love to Fath. Remind him that I am > expecting a few professional lessons next Spring. Frankie > sends best love to both. > Yours, > Dot > > In Buffalo everything was, as Dorothy said, “good as gold.” She > had become an able mother and household administrator. Connie > and Sara were adjusting to their new family, Montclair and sad > memories no longer their only reality. Business was good for Frank. > He was satisfied with his work at National Biscuit Company. Like > so many companies in the boom years of the twenties, National > Biscuit Company was increasing production, and, consequently, > tried and true executives like Frank were sharing the benefits. > Connie went to Nichols Academy and Sara, already eleven by > the spring of 1925, was making excellent marks at the Park School. > Every morning the school limousine stopped in front of the Bak- > ers’ house and, as Louise watched from the window, Sara disap- > peared into the car and finally the car itself turned off Woodbridge > Avenue and vanished from her sight. Unhappy moments always > followed Sara’s departure. Louise, still looking out the window, > would moan softly to herself, “Wanna go ‘cool,” until Dorothy, > playing her part in the daily ritual, would come in to comfort her. > The next year, although Louise was only three, Dorothy gave in > and enrolled her at Park School, too. > While her little sister ate cookies and milk and found her place > in the playground hierarchy, Sara was taking her studies very seri- > ously. At Park, students were regularly put through a battery of > > 16. Dorothy and her mother holding “Winnie Lou,” 1922 > > “intelligence” tests. After testing Sara for two years and coming > up with the same results, the administration finally called in her > parents. Sara consistently scored so high that they were unable to > establish her level of intelligence. > Frank and Dorothy chose not to push her toward concentrat- > ing exclusively on school work, knowing there would be time for > that later in life. Instead Dorothy helped Sara develop a variety of > interests so that other potentials would not be neglected. Sara > became an active Campfire girl. She learned to sew, her favorite > creation being a brown leather-fringed dress, beaded and hand > painted with Indian designs. As older sisters often do, she en- > joyed sharing the mothering of the babies with Dorothy. > > 17. Mother Beecher with her son Henry and grandson David, > holding his daughter Susan, 1923. > > 18. At the family’s summer “cottage” at Budd Lake, New Jersey, > summer 1922 (from left to right): Louise Baker, Dorothy, her > father Henry Beecher, and grandmother Ellen Beecher. > > Life at the Baker house—a large two-story red brick with five > bedrooms, two baths, and maid’s quarters—was as solid and de- > pendable as the structure itself. Frank, Dorothy, and their four > children seemed to have every kind of happiness. > Meanwhile, Mother Beecher, Dorothy’s paternal grandmother, > was still traveling over the United States and Canada, lecturing > on the Bahá’í Faith. In 1925 she attended the “Seventeenth An- > nual Convention and Bahá’í Congress” held at the Green Acre > Bahá’í School in Eliot, Maine. There she joined the program with > speakers Mírzá Ali-Kuli Khan, the renowned Frenchman Hippo- > lyte Dreyfus, Alfred E. Lunt, Mountfort Mills, and Stanwood > Cobb. Following a prayer by Miss Jessie Revell, Mother Beecher > spoke, “eloquently portraying the transforming effects of Divine > Love.”1 > In the cold months Mother Beecher settled down a bit, spend- > ing most of the following two winters in Geneva, New York, with > Bahá’í friends Rex and Mary Collison and Dr. and Mrs. Heist. > Their daughter, Elizabeth Heist Patterson, later wrote, “Mother > Beecher came by train to Geneva, traveling alone. On one such > occasion she met some ladies in the station. One of them said > wearily to Mother Beecher, ‘Just think of it, I am seventy-five > years old.’ Mother Beecher replied brightly, ‘I’m eighty-five.’ > For the Bahá’ís Mother Beecher had unlimited energy. She told > stories of her early religious experiences and of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s visit > to America. She drilled them in the conduct of spiritual assem- > blies and gave the young Bahá’ís public speaking lessons, at which > she insisted, for the sake of future audiences, that they speak loudly. > In fact, she was somewhat hard of hearing and didn’t want to > miss anything. Her “children” seemed easily to accept her firm > directions and her determined concentration on their develop- > ment. Many early believers took Ellen Beecher’s role as “Mother” > quite seriously. They listened to the words of the round-faced > > Louis G. Gregory, “The Seventeenth Annual Convention and Bahá’í Congress,” in Bahá’í News Letter, no. > 6 (July–Aug. 1925), p. 3. > > little matriarch with sometimes bemused but always attentive in- > terest. > Dorothy saw Mother Beecher as a strong Bahá’í but also as the > elderly and delicate lady she was. In a letter home Dorothy begged > her mother, Luella, not to “sit on poor little Grandma too much, > even if it is exasperating. Remember she is very near the end and > is bound to show it. Sort of treat her like a pet and coddle her > along a little ….” There was some tension between Luella and > her strong-willed mother-in-law. > It must have been difficult for Mother Beecher to balance her > public persona and her private life. She did not have a real home > and may have felt she was always “in service” and therefore needed > to help her immediate family with their spiritual growth in the > same way she helped others she stayed with during the year. It was > her function, and she was, in spite of some adverse side effects > with her in-laws, absolutely devoted to it. > When Mother Beecher visited Buffalo from Geneva, New York, > in 1925, Dorothy made sure the family treated her with respect > while at the same time she managed to keep things moving along > fairly normally. Dorothy wrote to her mother, > Connie and I take turns gently guiding Grandma to the den > when Hat1 is out, or she would be out doing up the dishes or > scrubbing all the pots and pans. She’s a great old G. G., and > is sweeter than ever before. I am enjoying her visit very much. > Frank is away so much now that I really need someone with > me to pep me up more. > Frank’s business trips multiplied as his responsibilities at National > Biscuit Company grew. At times Dorothy felt isolated with only > > Hattie, one of Dorothy’s favorite maids. > > 19. Bill and Dorothy, 1924. > > 20. Louise and Bill with their grandfather Henry, 1927 > > 21. Louise and Bill with their grandmother Luella, 1927 > > 22. Conrad takes Louise and Bill canoeing > on Budd Lake, 1927 > > children and the maid to talk to. The repetition of housework left > her bored and distracted. > Though she was adept at organizing her household, she couldn’t > find time for much else. Life was on schedule; everything appeared > to be as it should, but something wasn’t right. Dorothy did have a > few outside interests and activities, but they didn’t fulfill her. Bahá’í > life consisted mostly of reading the Bahá’í writings on her own. > The responsibilities and safety of the family took her hours and > years and demanded, she felt, all of her love. Consequently, she > was not very active in the small Buffalo Bahá’í community. > Dorothy considered herself a Bahá’í, though she tended to mix > Bahá’í ideas with others that had fascinated her since school days. > While in Buffalo she had Louise’s and Billy’s astrological charts, > as well as numerology readings, done. > It was Mother Beecher’s visit that inspired a more active in- > volvement in the Faith. She encouraged Dorothy to accompany > her to a Bahá’í Feast at the home of her friends Grace and Harlan > Ober, outstanding Bahá’ís who had been married at the sugges- > tion and in the presence of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá during His 1912 visit to > North America. Doris McKay, who later pioneered to Prince Ed- > ward Island, was then a fairly new Bahá’í from Geneva, New York. > She wrote of meeting Dorothy one evening in Buffalo: > Different people spoke but only one did I remember. A young > woman, tall, slim and pale with great gray eyes arose and > reminded us by a story she told that we were all “children of > God.” She was wearing a wine velvet dress that set off her > extreme pallor and delicacy. The impact of her personality > was stunning. > It is not surprising that Dorothy told a story at the Feast. Her > children loved her stories. She would read classics to herself—Les > > Miserables, for one—a chapter a day, then tell them in serial form > to her little audience. Also included in her repertoire were stories > of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s visit to America, learned from Mother Beecher’s > firsthand accounts. Conrad, who turned fifteen in the summer of > 1926, and Sara, now almost thirteen, were ten years older than > Louise and Billy, so they followed the stories much better, but > neither had met many Bahá’í s. When the renowned Persian dip- > lomat and scholar Dr. Ali-Kuli Khan spoke in Buffalo, Dorothy > decided to take the older children. Dr. Khan lectured on The Seven > Valleys, a mystical book dealing with the progress of the soul, a > topic often overwhelming even for adults. > The three of them sat in the audience, Conrad like an adult, > elbows on the arms of his seat, hands clasped in front of him, > head politely tilted up and to one side so he could see the speaker > without straining to make himself taller. Sara squirmed until the > program began, then grew quiet as Dr. Khan was introduced. > Relieved, Dorothy also turned her attention to the podium. > After Dr. Khan took the audience through the first several of the > mystically explained stages of spiritual growth described by Bahá’- > u’lláh, Dorothy noticed that Sara, who had been sitting very > straight, looking up at Dr. Khan, had now let her head drop low. > A sheath of straight dark hair hung almost to her lap, hiding Sara’s > face from view. Dorothy wondered if she might be asleep and > leaned over to try to see her face. Then, noiselessly, Sara lifted her > head and the dark curtain of hair fell back. She looked at her > mother through lashes clumped together like long grass after a > shower. Tears, silent as the sudden thunderless rain of the tropics, > still streamed over her high, round cheekbones. > That night Dorothy had just tucked Sara into bed and was > closing the hall door when Sara called her back. > “Muzz, I just want you to know, no matter what, that I’m a > Bahá’í.” > > A few weeks later the two of them were downtown shopping for > Sara. On most of their shopping trips together Sara’s excitement > kept Dorothy moving at a quick pace toward the next store she > had in mind, but this time Dorothy noticed the warm spring > weather was making her child move more slowly. She didn’t worry > until, even after relaxing their pace a bit, Sara complained of be- > ing very tired. Since they were already downtown Dorothy de- > cided to take her to the doctor rather than make another trip the > next day. > As they waited to see him, Sara closed her eyes. When the nurse > called her name she didn’t stir. Dorothy had to wake her to go > into the examining room. After tests, the doctor asked them to > wait in the lobby again. He reappeared sometime later and said, > “All right, young lady, you stay here with the nurse. As long as > your mother’s in the office, I’ll just take a look at her, too.” Inside > his office he sat down next to Dorothy, his jovial manner gone. As > he spoke, explaining slowly, Dorothy felt her mind pull away from > the room where they sat. She imagined herself at home with Sara > and Frank, with Louise and Bill and Connie—all together—for- > ever safe. > “Sara’s white blood count is very high. Her symptoms suggest > leukemia, and that blood count supports the diagnosis. As you > know, leukemia is a very serious disease. In this case it is acute.” > Tears brought Dorothy back to the room where they sat, not a > special place, in fact ordinary—street sounds and the conversa- > tion of people in the hall, browns and deep reds marking the > room as decorated for a man, his voice going on, explaining, keep- > ing the end in limbo. Then the explanation, the medical words, > were over. Now the doctor spoke simply, his voice low before the > God of truth that science cannot battle. “This disease is fast-act- > ing. I have to tell you that Sara will not live much longer—a week > or a little more. That’s all.” > > Dorothy called Frank. Their daughter was already resting in > her room when he arrived home. Sitting downstairs in the den, > she told her husband the details of what the doctor had said. > Frank was a sturdy man, physically and emotionally. But the > news of his only daughter by Mary being so close to death left > him miserably tormented. The protected hollow of the family > and home again proved hopelessly fragile before the intruders dis- > ease and death. They could follow anywhere. No distance, no > new life, no brick fortress, no happiness could deny them en- > trance. > A nurse came to live with the family. Sara was not told exactly > why, only what she already knew, that she was ill. > All spring she had begged to go to a dude ranch that summer. > Sitting on Sara’s bed, Dorothy spent hours with her, planning the > trip, looking at brochures with pictures of mountain lakes and > people sitting on horses. But by the end of the fourth day Sara no > longer asked for the pictures. She knew by then how impossible > those plans were; no one had to explain to her that she was dying. > Her last morning Sara asked the nurse to call her parents. Not > wanting to interrupt their breakfast, the nurse waited until they > came up, as always, when they were finished. By that time, twenty > minutes later, Sara had difficulty talking, but she was able to ex- > press to them her love, to explain what she wanted done with her > things—her doll house, she said, should go to Louise. Later that > day Sara died. > Without her everyone in the family suffered, but the family > unit suffered too. There was suddenly a large gap between Mary’s > child Conrad and Dorothy’s two children, making a division where > before there had been none. Frank cried in his sleep every night. > Dorothy’s pain and that of her family burdened her heart and > annihilated her previous contentment with life. > Several nights after Sara’s death, Dorothy and Frank went to > > bed quite early. Both of them were exhausted, but neither had > slept well since their child’s illness. Well into the night, Dorothy > stirred and opened her eyes. A brilliant light illumined their bed. > Pushing herself up on one elbow, she looked around the room to > find the source of the light, then noticed it was shining straight in > through the window, though the sky outside was dark. About to > get up to close the curtains, Dorothy stopped. There, skipping > down the path of light, came Sara. In her hair she wore garlands > of vines and ivy and wild flowers. Over her arms were the plaited > handles of two large wicker baskets filled with more vines and > flowers, especially violets. Sara was smiling and danced toward > Dorothy. “Oh Muzz, I’m so happy! Look, I have all the wild flowers > I want!” She looked at her father, who lay sleeping beside Dor- > othy. In a voice soft with love and pity, she said, “Tell him I’m > happy, Muzz. Tell him how happy I am.” Then she turned and > danced back up the path of light. > Dorothy woke Frank; by then the light was fading. She told > him what she had seen as the light faded still more until they were > alone again in the darkness. But the incident comforted her, as it > did Frank, with the knowledge that Sara was living on some- > where—happy. > About a month later Dorothy sat reading in the living room. > The book was The Kitáb-i-Íqán, by Bahá’u’lláh. She finished one > section and began to put it down, then felt compelled to open > the book again and slowly read over the last paragraph, concen- > trating on the meaning of the words. Again she closed it, and as > she did, she clearly heard Sara’s voice: “Thanks, Muzz, that time I > got it.” > The years in Buffalo, although they had seemed safe and se- > cure at the start, led the Bakers toward a need for trust and active > belief in something other than the stability of physical life. They > began hosting the Buffalo weekly Bahá’í firesides when the regu- > > lar hosts, the Obers, were out of town. For the first time, Frank > Baker’s name appeared on the Bahá’í roll. In November of 1926, > the autumn following Sara’s death, Dorothy was elected to the > Local Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Buffalo in a by-elec- > tion, her first administrative position after having been a Bahá’í > for fourteen years. > > Chapter 8 > Move to Lima, Ohio; health scares and deepening, 1927–30 > For Frank there must have seemed little he could do to change > the pattern of death that had formed around him. His mother, > his first wife, his daughter—three of the women he loved most— > had died, exactly in the order of their appearance in his life. After > Sara’s death, hopeless of finding a cure for the constant sense of > loss, Frank set out to at least palliate his agony. He became ob- > sessed with locating another town—any place but Buffalo—some- > where his family could move and leave the pain behind. With his > marriage to Dorothy the move from Montclair had been a cathar- > sis for the sadness and fear that followed Mary’s death. In 1926 he > hoped for the same effect by leaving Buffalo. Traveling the north- > east, through New York and New England, he was often gone > from home for weeks, looking for a location for a new bakery and > a new life for his family. > Just as he and his partner found what seemed to be the perfect > location in Rochester, New York, his partner backed out. On Janu- > ary 10, 1926, Dorothy wrote to her mother, “Frank felt rather > high and dry for a while, but he has gotten to the point where a > blow from a sledgehammer wouldn’t phaze [sic] him.” He wasn’t > ready, she said, “to start with nothing but an empty building all > by himself,” so he began his search again, concentrating instead > on already established bakeries he could buy and run on his own. > Dorothy stayed at home and waited for him to decide. By Christ- > mas, nine months after Sara died, she was becoming restless, her > > loneliness turning to resentment as Frank continued what she > called his endless “searching for hidden treasure.” > But when he finally did decide to build a new bakery in Lima,1 > Ohio, Dorothy would have given him forever to reconsider. Four > years before, the move to Buffalo had been a move “out west” in > her mind. But the distance from Ohio to civilization was incon- > ceivable. She wondered where she would shop in Ohio and > whether, living so far from everybody she cared about, she would > have anyone to talk to. > In desperation, Dorothy even considered Frank’s idea of devel- > oping a large poultry farm in California. At least she knew where > California was. Although it was far away, it was another coast, > America’s left hand vis-à-vis New York and New England as the > right. In between was only connecting matter, the rivers and farms > and factories that made the country run. In Dorothy’s mind, Ohio > was just one squared-off piece of the stuff, dotted, as was the rest, > with smaller, smokier copies of New York and Boston. But Ohio > was, Dorothy had to admit by January of 1927, where they were > “booked for next.” > In the same letter she assured her mother and herself, “I feel > that in time we will live in California; what doing, I do not know.” > As long as she could believe they would keep moving toward some > place more habitable, a place where things might actually happen > beyond the grinding of wheat into flour and lives into dust, Dor- > othy could accept a temporary stint in what seemed to her an > outpost in the middle of rolling plains that were rolling nowhere. > Had she known Lima would be her residence until the end of > life, courage might have failed her. > Frank selected what he thought was the perfect location for his > > Pronounced “līma.” > > 23. Bill, Dorothy, and Louise in the front yard of 615 > West Elm Street, Lima, Ohio, circa 1927 > > 24. Bill and Louise Baker at Shawnee Country Club > in Lima, 1928. > > family, a sprawling home near Shawnee Country Club on the > west side of town. Dorothy was pleased with the idea of being > near golf. At least one thing about Lima was familiar. But the > house seemed isolated in its country club surroundings and a long > way from most of the children’s activities and from the bakery. So > she and Frank looked at houses that were closer to the center of > town. A large stone house, foursquare and traditional, had just > been built by a Mr. and Mrs. Barnard. They had installed, in the > center of the wide porch that ran the length of the front, a glass > door with an Old English B, perhaps nine inches tall, etched into > it. > > 25. Dorothy behind her new home, circa 1927. > > Almost fifty years later, Mrs. Barnard was at a tailoring class in > Amesbury, Massachusetts, when her teacher, Mildred Hyde, men- > tioned the Bahá’í Faith. Mrs. Barnard said she had heard of it > before, from Dorothy Baker when she and Frank bought their > house in Lima. The B that originally stood for “Barnard” became > the B for “Baker,” and even before Mrs. Barnard heard of the > Faith again in Massachusetts, it came to stand for “Bahá’í” when > the house at 615 West Elm was officially made the Lima Bahá’í > Center. > But during the Bakers’ first years in Lima there was no Bahá’í > community and certainly no need for a center. Dorothy and Frank > were typical upper-middle-class citizens, at least it must have > seemed so to their new friends. They began meeting people by > joining the Shawnee Country Club and, as Frank had been raised > a German Lutheran, the local Lutheran church. > When Louise entered first grade in 1928, Dorothy also joined > the Parent-Teacher Association, which she initially found time- > consuming and useless, but eventually worked hard to improve. > Elected as president a few years later, Dorothy said she couldn’t > serve unless allowed to reorganize the group completely. The > members agreed, and during the following two years she played > an important part in improving the functioning of the elemen- > tary school PTA as well as the service efforts of all the PTAs in > Lima. As president, she involved the fathers as well as the moth- > ers and teachers. By the time of the 1929 stock market crash, and > during the following depression, the Lima PTAs were strong > enough to be of real assistance to the many people there who > suffered from the downward spiraling economy. > The first year the Bakers were in Lima, Mother Beecher came > for her annual visit. At eighty-eight she seemed too fragile to con- > tinue her travels. After discussing it with Frank, Dorothy asked > > Mother Beecher to stay and live with them. Mother Beecher was > overjoyed at the prospect. She had traveled and taught the Bahá’í > Faith, making every effort to fulfill what ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote in a > tablet to her, that she and others, “deliver such utterances that > they may move and quicken all the American lands.” But it was > time to settle down. Not only was she happy to have a home, > Mother Beecher still saw Dorothy’s potential. Dorothy had been > active in the Bahá’í community during the last year in Buffalo > and Mother Beecher was anxious to keep Dorothy moving in that > direction. It was her turn. When Doris McKay visited the Bakers > in Lima, she noticed that “the Cause was at that time Dorothy’s > other life,” but Mother Beecher moved in and determined that > her granddaughter would continue to develop spiritually. She and > Ruth Moffett, another frequent visitor and zealous Bahá’í teacher > and lecturer, prayed for Dorothy to become an active Bahá’í. > Finally, it was the suffering, so incongruously familiar in her > safe middleclass life, that took Dorothy beyond her previous > understanding. Like the watchman of the Seven Valleys, it chased > her, further and further from belief in the security and joy of this > world. Her own depression after Sara’s death was eclipsed by her > fears for Frank and her dread that he might someday have to live > through yet another tragedy. > Frank made friends at the Rotary Club and elsewhere, but his > main interest, outside the family, was the “Frank Baker Bread > Company—Makers of Plezol Bread.” At the start of his new busi- > ness, he often spent fifteen to seventeen hours a day at the bakery, > but it was an improvement on the weeks away from home that > National Biscuit had demanded. Being near Dorothy and the > children comforted Frank, though he still suffered, missing Sara. > Her death not only left him without her, it also rekindled the > plaguing fear of loss that was sparked first by his mother’s death, > then brought to full flame when his wife Mary died. > > Although Dorothy hadn’t suffered through those early agonies > with him, she understood the depth of his fear and sorrow. Frank > began to worry whenever someone complained of an upset stom- > ach at the dinner table or when, at night, on his own weary way to > bed, he heard a late-night cough through a child’s bedroom door. > Any sign of illness in the family called for immediate attention. > Dorothy made sure that everyone had regular physical examina- > tions. Early in 1929 she went in for her own physical, tired from > the emotional strain of recent years, but fully expecting a good > report. Instead the doctor detected a spot on her lung, which he > immediately diagnosed as tuberculosis. Dorothy was stunned. She > didn’t tell Frank or anyone else. And only days later, when she > found a lump in one of her breasts, she didn’t even tell the doctor. > Sure that the coming spring would be her last, Dorothy told > her husband she would like to go to Chicago for the Annual Bahá’í > Convention. To him she reasoned that, since they lived so close > now, it would be an easy, safe trip. But to herself, Dorothy admit- > ted that her intense longing was that of one whose time is short. > During those three days in Wilmette she sat with the other > Bahá’ís in Foundation Hall, the only part of the House of Wor- > ship then complete. Above them lay the flat, tarred surface that > would one day serve as the base for the main floor of the upper > auditorium, though that spring even the completion of the build- > ing’s superstructure was two years away. > No one at the convention knew about Dorothy’s illness, but > her distress over something was obvious. On the third day she, > Doris McKay, and Ruth Hawthorne, who later traveled and taught > the Bahá’í Faith in Africa for many years, all sat listening in the > first row. The convention was nearing its end, and nothing had > changed. Dorothy had attended every session and had seen friends > of her grandmother and friends of her own. She had prayed and > hoped and waited for some sign of relief, some indication that > > her life was acceptable or that it might be spared, but none had > come. Without hope she would go home to the family that would > soon be without her. Sitting there, just in front of the speaker’s > stand, Dorothy began to cry. When she could control herself, she > quietly stood and left by one of the side doors as the session went > on. > Walking toward the lake, she was alone in the knowledge that > her life was at an end. Unasked, Albert Vail, then a well-known > teacher of the Bahá’í Faith, joined in her walk. Through Mother > Beecher he had been acquainted with Dorothy since her child- > hood. > Perhaps her grandmother had told him of Dorothy’s recent > weakness and he decided to follow in case she grew tired; perhaps > there was no conscious reason. They walked in silence, but > Dorothy’s mind was far from still. Thoughts of her future, cut > short, mixed with even more bitter sadness for the agony her death > would bring to Frank and the children. No matter how happy she > made them in the next week or year or month, it would end. > Everything she had done in the past, every meal, every good- > night kiss that had seemed such strong potion for holding home > and family together was now only chaff blown helter-skelter by > the indifferent winds of death and destruction. > Albert spoke. Dorothy nodded. Words meant nothing. His > breath carried sound to her ears but could not invade the privacy > of her thoughts. Then he was quiet again, but kept walking with > her. More words. This time she heard. “You won’t be here next > year, will you?” > Without looking toward him, she shook her head, admitting > what she had, until then, kept secret. > Albert stopped and, as he did, Dorothy stopped as well. > Through her tears, she looked over to him, sick with sadness, yet > glad to think that someone finally shared her misery and could > > comfort her. But his face was turned out, to the water. Dorothy > watched the waves with him, but alone. She felt the dark, low > water pulling in and out, charging up the shore, then sucking > itself back, never reaching beyond the beach or touching any place > it hadn’t been before. > “Dorothy, are you willing to leave this world without render- > ing some great service to the Cause?” Still turned to the waves, > she felt the heavy thud of unexpected, unwanted understanding. > Near, then far, then near again. Her commitment had been too > much like the water’s movement. Nothing had ever taken her > beyond the limits of a familiar pattern: loving God but holding > back, relying on the safety of the world she had created for her- > self. Now there was nothing in that world that could save her. No > one was left but her Creator, and she faced Him empty-handed. > When Dorothy turned, Albert Vail was no longer there beside > her. A figure bobbing dark against the bright sky took her focus > inland. She watched, unable to tell whether he was leaving or > coming back, the brightness of the day overpowering the motion > of the now small form it surrounded. But soon he was overtaken > by light, and she turned to walk on, alone, next to the low foam- > ing waves, their histrionics doing nothing to disguise what she > knew: the frantic movement brought them no closer to any desti- > nation. Only the sun’s heat could move the essence of their mois- > ture up and out of the black pool. Its burning rays could lift and > the wind carry; clouds might break and rain finally wash down > on something beyond the dark water beach. > Doris McKay, having left the meeting to find her young friend, > joined Dorothy on her walk. Dorothy’s heart was tortured by her > own failings. She said, “Doris, I’m a spiritual criminal, I have > lived uncommitted.” In a letter written later that spring to Lorna > Tasker, who was then busy with work at Green Acre Bahá’í School, > Doris described her time with Dorothy. > > We walked the shore of Lake Michigan and Dorothy beat > herself with self-reproaches. I urged her to draw near to God > and forget her crimes. Sometimes she smiled and it was like > a nearly drowned person fighting her way back to life. > There was a little shrine outside of Convention Hall, a > little oasis in the structural wilderness of columns and beams, > a small table covered with a gold and black satin cloth on > which had been placed a vase of pink roses. This was near > the spot where ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had laid the cornerstone. In front > of the table was a bench covered by a Persian rug. I sat on > that bench with Dorothy, Dorothy sitting like a statue, rapt > in the spirit of worship as we listened to the prayers being > read by a young negro couple who shared our nook. > She wrote me after the Convention, “The few minutes at > the shrine will never be forgotten. How my throat ached. > What those moments taught me cannot be put into words. I > think my heart was laid at the Master’s feet there.” > Doris remembered her “like a pale little ghost” at those early con- > ventions, “withdrawn and reticent.” Dorothy was not always at > ease leading people. Although she had served her hometown com- > munity in various ways, most of the work was organizational, not > in the public eye. But following her prayers Dorothy reentered > Foundation Hall, remaining at the back of the room. Rosemary > Sala recalled that moment. > George Latimer said to the friends, “There is one present > whom I think we should hear speak, and that is the grand- > daughter of Mother Beecher.” > Dorothy arose and walked forward … the words just > flowed, but all I was conscious of was spirit. She ended ev- > ery phrase with, “Blessed be those who follow guidance.” > > And when she finished she stood like a princess, and when > she walked down the aisle she seemed to float. > > That was her first speech. Her preparation was hardly tradi- > tional: suffering, the promise of greater suffering still, the laying > down of her life in the hands of her Lord, and finally detachment > from this world, and a determination to serve. From these roots > sprouted her early eloquence. > She returned to Lima knowing she must, as Albert said, render > some great service to the Cause while there was still time. There > clearly wasn’t time for small offerings that might, over the years, > form a life of service. During the last day of the convention and > the two days following, Dorothy considered her abilities and her > shortcomings and decided on what she thought would be the most > useful and important contribution she could make during the > part of life that was left to her. Then she wrote, for the first time, > to Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, asking that > he advise her. Dorothy’s desire was to write children’s stories about > the history of the Faith, as she felt there was little Bahá’í reading > material appropriate for them. However, she was concerned by > her own lack of knowledge regarding details of that history and > asked about material that might supplement her understanding. > > Haifa, June 6th 1929 > Miss Dorothy Baker > My Dear Friend, > I am directed by the Guardian to thank you for your letter of May 1st. > He was very glad to hear from you and to learn of your > eagerness to serve the Cause in a permanent and effective > way, especially in connection with Bahá’í children, who will > > have in future to shoulder perhaps far greater responsibili- > ties than any of us can now realize. > As regards your special plan, however, I will say nothing > as I am sure the Guardian will express his opinion in the few > words he is appending. > The family all join in love and good wishes to you and > “Mother Beecher.” > With warm feelings in His service, > Soheil Afnan > My dear coworker: > An authentic and comprehensive history is being com- > piled in Persia and I trust that in the not distant future the > work may be accomplished and translated.1 It will I am sure > when published serve your purpose to a very great extent. I > will pray for you at the Holy Shrines that you may be en- > abled to render distinct services to the Cause. > Your true brother, > Shoghi > > Dorothy had asked for several things, one of which was the > suggestion of materials that could supply facts as well as atmo- > sphere for her children’s stories. This the Guardian answered in > his own hand; a translation of the history of the Faith was forth- > coming. Indirectly, she asked for his opinion of the enterprise she > planned. His secretary made clear how glad the Guardian was to > > This was probably a reference to Nabíl-i-‘Aẓam [Muḥammad-i-Zarandí], > The Dawn-Breakers: Nabíl’s Narrative of the Early Days of the Bahá’í Revelation, > trans. and ed. Shoghi Effendi (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1932). > > learn of her eagerness to serve “especially in connection with Bahá’í > children.” > Lastly, Dorothy asked for Shoghi Effendi’s prayers. The Guard- > ian’s answer was more than she had dared request. Her hope was > only that if he approved her effort, he would pray for her in con- > nection with this one modest though difficult task. His answer > was generous. He would pray, he said, “at the Holy Shrines that > you may be enabled to render distinct services to the Cause.” > Dorothy’s hope of writing had to wait for material to be trans- > lated. She felt she would not have time so she set about doing > what she could. Dorothy arranged two public meetings in Lima > inviting others as speakers, of course, so that anyone who was > interested could hear the message of Bahá’u’lláh. A few lecture- > goers attended, but no one asked questions or requested further > information. > Beyond that activity, life remained uneventful except for the > ever-present dread. There was so little opportunity for service that > Dorothy, despite her new devotion, born on the shores of Lake > Michigan, felt plagued by doubt of her own ability to do any- > thing of value for the Cause; she couldn’t even find anyone to > teach. Though Dorothy didn’t recognize it, she was having great > success in teaching at least one person—herself. During the year > immediately following the 1929 Convention, she and Mother > Beecher spent an hour together every day studying the writings > of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. They often used the Tablet of > Aḥmad consecutively for nineteen days—a habit Dorothy kept > for the rest of her life.1 By the first month of 1930 Mother Beecher > clearly understood the danger of losing Dorothy. She wrote to > > See Bahá’í Prayers: A Selection of Prayers Revealed by Bahá’u’lláh, the Báb, > and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, new ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1991), pp > 209–13. > > Rex Collison1 about her granddaughter’s condition, spiritual and > physical. > … she has been going through a real siege which has robbed > her of her usual pep and ambition. She over did—and now > I am not sure that she will be able to do half of the things > which are laid upon her to do. But she is so deeply interested > in the lessons that she insists that she will go on with them > and we will pray that strength may be given her. You see the > reading takes so much time, and so many interruptions fill > her life. … I almost forgot to tell you that Frank took > Dorothy to Columbus for three days this week. While F. was > attending a business convention, D. was with dear Mrs. > Corrodi—and met the few friends there who are partially > interested—perhaps really none confirmed except Mrs. C. > From all reports, D. did a great work there. She is so on fire > in spirit—but so frail of body. If her life and health is spared > she will become a great teacher as well as writer—for she is a > chosen instrument without doubt. Give worlds of love to all > of the group—but especially in your own home. How is > your dear father? Tell him I often think of him. > Yours always in Him, > Mother B. > > Even though Dorothy was still weak, contrary to the doctor’s > expectations and her own, life did not end with tuberculosis or > > Rex and Mary Collison later moved to Africa to establish the Bahá’í Faith > there. Because they moved to an area where no Bahá’ís had lived before, they > were named “Knights of Bahá’u’lláh.” They were still living in Geneva, New > York, when Mother Beecher wrote this letter. > > from the lump in her breast. In fact, she slowly began to regain > her health. But before Dorothy could fully recover, her life was > threatened again. In the kitchen on a September evening, she > opened a contaminated can of salmon. It looked a bit strange, > but Dorothy didn’t know why. She tasted it with the tip of her > tongue, then rinsed her mouth and threw the can away. By evening > she was violently ill from ptomaine poisoning. > The family doctor came but could only tell Frank the crisis > would reach its peak that night. There was nothing he could do > or say to change the facts. He told Frank, “I can’t let it happen > without your knowing … I don’t believe she can live through > this.” > The sheet lay cool over Dorothy’s feverish sleep. Under it, al- > though her eyes were closed, she didn’t rest, only fought to find > some piece of flotsam from her wrecked sense of reality that would > keep her afloat. Images of dreams and fears floated through the > expanded darkness of her unconscious, mixing with tangible but > familiar voices, one voice predicting her death. “Ridiculous,” she > thought, but death did hover near; it drew close and almost merged > with life, then, picking up speed, whistled by, its force pulling at > her will to live. > She held back. For her, there was no choice but life, which she > listened for, even through the glaring sounds of death, listened > for when there was no sound, when everything was slipping away. > In a chair pulled up close to the edge of the bed sat Frank > Baker—a giant who, for all his own strength, could once again > do nothing to augment another’s. The night deepened; Dorothy > seemed just on the rim of another, more impenetrable darkness. > Under the sheet, her body moved and the next moment she let > out a breath, making a sound, a rough sigh. His hands, which > seemed too big to touch a creature so slight without doing harm, > > reached toward her pale face, but stopped midair. He strained > forward in his chair to see movement again, anything; Dorothy’s > eyes fluttered, then went still. In that moment, who knows the > agony Frank felt. He was a man who lived for those he most loved, > but he could not make them live. Then a glow of moisture ap- > peared on Dorothy’s upper lip. She opened her eyes, and Frank, > for once, was not left alone. > > Chapter 9 > Early depression years, deepening, and teaching at Louhelen, > 1931–32 > Dorothy’s determination to be of great service was inspired by > the threat of losing her life to tuberculosis and greeted by near > death from ptomaine poisoning. Then the depression years spread > their discouragement, blocking the way for a country full of indi- > vidual plans and aspirations. But Dorothy found her horizons lift- > ing. The spot on her lung disappeared, as did the lump in her > breast. Whatever the difficulties that arose around her, at least she > was alive to deal with them. > The summer of 1931 began with a heat wave that put the al- > ready destitute farmers even further from any hope of paying off > the bank. What the depression started, the dry heat finished. Bushel > prices dropped lower than anyone could remember. > Banks had been closing steadily since the crash—sixty or eighty > during each of the first ten months of 1930, over two hundred in > November, with the final month of the year closing another three > hundred and twenty-eight banks all over the United States.1 Bank- > ers who had loaned farmers money to buy their businesses could > no longer afford the sympathy they had once allowed themselves > as the almost omnipotent stabilizers of the U.S. economy. Dur- > ing the boom years before October 1929 the small farms hadn’t > done as well as other businesses, but the banks had been there to > supply mortgages and to help the farmers over dry spells and early > frosts. By 1931 protecting others from bankruptcy no longer mat- > > See Wallace Stegner, “The Radio Priest and His Flock,” in The Aspirin Age: > 1919-1941, Isabel Leighton, ed. (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1965), p. 233. > > tered. Banking institutions were deferring to a bigger need than > saving farms: saving themselves. > The transition from an American economy sustained by busi- > ness and banks to one more heavily influenced by government > spending and government regulations had not yet occurred. There > was no institution, private or public, strong enough to rescue the > faltering economy as J. P. Morgan had done two decades before. > Prior to the depression, Washington, D.C. had not been an > economic center. The American government was not attuned to > solving both political and economic problems. President Hoover > made several unsuccessful attempts to influence the economy > positively. Then, like many professional economists of the day, > he put his trust in the belief that production and consumption > would regain their balance. However, as John Maynard Keynes > pointed out, the balance at the bottom is just as stable as the > balance in an actively moving economy. As government and citi- > zens waited for relief, things grew steadily worse. > In Malinto, Ohio, a banker on his way to foreclose saw a noose > hanging from the barn of the farmer whose mortgage was in ques- > tion. There was no money to pay bank loans, personal loans, or > even to pay for life’s essentials. In Deshler, a farm community > forty miles from Lima, a silent crowd watched as a $400 debt was > settled for $2.15.1 > A year later, prices for farm goods were no better. The depres- > sion had dropped the total wages earned throughout the country > to sixty percent below what they had been in 1929. Many people > couldn’t afford produce, even with farmers’ prices at less than fifty > cents a bushel for wheat and only thirty-one cents for corn.2 In > some farm communities, prices were even lower. One county el- > evator dropped the price of corn to minus three cents a bushel.3 > The farmer would have to pay three cents a bushel to the elevator; > corn had so little value the selling price couldn’t cover the han- > dling and transportation expenses. > > See Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., “The First Hundred Days of the New Deal,” in > Aspirin Age, p. 280. > Frederick Lewis Allen, The Big Change: America Transforms Itself 1900-1950 > (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1969), pp. 130-31. > See Studs Terkel, Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression (New > York: Avon, 1970), p. 252. > > Living at the hub of northwestern Ohio’s farmland, Dorothy > made a point of putting part of her grocery money directly into > the hands of neighboring farmers. She did much of her shopping > by driving out into the country where she would buy cream for > ten cents a quart and corn for a penny an ear. The Bakers fre- > quented one farm where the family had a novel approach. Since > there was no market for their produce, they set up Sunday dinner. > For fifty cents per adult and twenty-five cents per child, people > with money could have a feast of fresh food served on the land > where it was grown. > The Bakers were among the lucky ones who had a cash flow. > Frank’s Plezol Bakery sold a one-pound loaf of bread for a nickel > and a two-pound loaf for nine cents. Because bread was a staple > everyone needed, Plezol stayed open during even the worst months > of the depression years, supplying jobs and food at a time when > employment was scarce. In Buffalo, where Frank and his family > would have spent the depression years if not for his driving urge > to move, a house-to-house canvass showed that more than half of > the people who were ready and able to work could not find full- > time employment, and almost a third of them could not find > even part-time jobs.1 > Frank enjoyed his business. Work had always been one thing in > life he could feel sure about. During the hardest times, after Mary’s > and Sara’s deaths, he had relied on business to give life meaning > beyond the immediate suffering. His occupation provided him > with a systematic way of giving something, even when he must > have felt everything had already been taken. In the early 1930s, in > the faces of his friends and neighbors, Frank saw last hopes doused > by news of repossessed land, layoffs, and closing factories. Louise > Baker recalled: > A Christmas party was held in the bakery’s club room every > year, a night or so before Christmas Eve. It was attended by > > See Allen, Big Change, p. 131. > > all the men who worked at the bakery and all the members > of their families. Each child received a net bag of goodies > plus a gift—dolls for the smaller girls, a toy for the boys, > often a board game for the older children. The gifts were > always identical for all the girls or boys of each age group. > Each employee and each man’s wife were also given identi- > cal presents. One year every woman received a whistling tea > kettle. Another year the men all were given a box of Havana > cigars! Another year the ladies got a set of mixing bowls. But > this was not just catering to their roles as housewives; Dad > was an avid baker at home as well as at work and enjoyed > giving gifts to use in the kitchen. > And every year he appeared in a Santa Claus suit to give > out presents! As each employee received his gift he also got > an envelope containing his annual bonus, which I think was > computed on a combination of his length of service and his > salary. I once asked Dad why he didn’t give out a percentage > of the bakery’s profits. He told me that during the depres- > sion, when the men’s need was often greatest, the bakery > frequently showed a loss, or at best very little profit, so he > preferred to build the bonus into the expenses of running > the business. That way the men were guaranteed the extra > money at Christmas time. > Frank gained a reputation in Lima for being a man people could > depend on for the kind of help that was neither condescending > nor small. > A farmer stopped at the bakery one day and told the secretary > he was there “to talk to Frank.” As the man came into the office, > Frank stood to reach across his wide desk and shake hands. > “How’s your land treating you?” > > “Not as good as it could, but not all bad either. We been keep- > ing our chickens all right.” > “That fence must be holding up.” > “I got a good number of eggs off of the hens, too. We got the > roosters thinned out for eating, but we’re letting the hens lay.” > “That’s good, eggs ought to bring something.” > “Well, you’d think so, but I been out all day with a couple of > crates in the back of my wagon. Even dropped down from a dime > to a nickel a dozen, but everybody’s selling and nobody’s buying.” > Frank studied the wall behind the man’s head. His expression > didn’t change. He knew the problem. This wasn’t the first farmer > who had come in. > “You’d be willing to let them all go, five cents a dozen?” > “Eggs is all we got right now. The wife needs money for other > goods. If I come home with these same eggs I left with and noth- > ing to show for a day away from the fields ….” His head shook > slightly as he dropped his gaze to the floor. Then he looked up > again, a tightlipped smile on his face. Raising his eyebrows until > the thick skin above them furrowed, he said with mock fear, “Let’s > just say she wouldn’t take to it. And you know about a woman’s > wrath.” > The man nodded as he spoke, agreeing with himself, but his > light attitude did little to hide his fear that the end they had been > putting off had finally come. “You know, there are folks who won’t > sell at all now, trying to make the prices go back up. Right now > corn’s so cheap they’re burning it instead of coal some places.” > Frank did know, but he listened. > “This one group stops farmers going to market and dumps > their goods. You’ve seen it like I have … eggs, cream, just dumped > in the ditches by the road, hoping that’ll force prices up. But I got > to sell mine. Nothing else I got is worth anything.” > > Neither added the words they were both thinking, “except the > farm,” but Frank said, “I think those eggs will sell. Just put them > down at the end of the hall next to the back door, where the men > can see them when they leave. We’ll make up a sign ‘five cents a > dozen.”‘ > By evening, when the farmer came back, the can next to the > empty crates was full of nickels and dimes along with one quar- > ter, deposited by Frank for the last five dozen. > > Every day men came to the door at 615 West Elm Street looking > for food or work or both. Either Dorothy or Mother Beecher would > fix a sandwich or bowl of soup for the man waiting outside. Even > when there were no adults at home, Bill and Louise were instructed > never to let anyone leave hungry, but also never to let anyone > come inside. > Mother Beecher was at home with the children when a particu- > larly frail-looking man stopped at the house. From the far end of > the entry hall she couldn’t see anybody standing on the other side > of the glass door. Then she saw the man leaning against the door > frame, his eyes slightly glazed, dark hair combed straight back > from a gaunt face. His hat hung loosely from big, rough-nailed > hands—hands that seemed too heavy for the thin arms. > As Mother Beecher opened the door, the man pushed himself > away from the wall that had supported him, wavered for a mo- > ment, then found his balance. He spoke, but not clearly; he had > no teeth. She told him to sit on the swing and went inside. While > he sat, feet planted on the cement porch to keep the swaying > motion to a minimum, Mother Beecher beat together three eggs, > some milk, and a jigger of whiskey. Carrying a wooden tray with > the large tumbler on it, she pushed open the front door. > “This ought to agree with you.” > Apparently he didn’t hear her speak as she came out onto the > > porch, nor did he hear the door slam as the wind caught it. His > eyes remained closed until she was beside the swing and said in a > louder voice, “Buzz this down and you’ll feel stronger.” > The man came to and took a drink, then, dropping his head > back, put the bottom of the perspiring glass on his thigh. Sinking > down into the swing, letting his head rest on the top slat of its > wooden back, he finally swallowed the rest of that first gulp. > Mother Beecher sat with the tray across her lap, holding its > wooden handles. Oblivious, he continued to sit in the same posi- > tion, looking up, perhaps at the eaves that tied the porch ceiling > into the rest of the house. > Beginning again she said, “I hope you like the eggnog.” > “Yes, ma’am, I like it very much.” He took another gulp, then > swallowed. “This is the first meal I’ve had I could really eat in > maybe two, three days. Most people don’t notice my teeth are > missing, so I end up with a sandwich and no way to chew it.” > The drink finished, Mother Beecher walked back across the > porch, empty tumbler balanced on the tray. The old fellow stepped > out in front of her to open the front door. > “Thank you.” > “I’m the one that should be thanking. Could I sweep your porch > for you?” > “If you feel strong enough, that would be nice. I’ll bring you a > broom.” > Frank came home to find the man sitting on his porch, broom > in hand, and the porch and sidewalk clean. He heard the story > from Mother Beecher and decided to offer the fellow some work > around the yard. There were many unemployed people who were > better qualified for manual labor, but Frank decided it would be > harder for this man to find employment than most. He was thin > and obviously not strong but, from Mother Beecher’s descrip- > tion, willing to work. > > For several weeks he did odd jobs for the Bakers, finishing a > task, then sitting down to rest before starting the next. Frank got > his neighbor, a dentist, to fit him with some discarded false teeth. > Able once again to chew, his strength renewed and a little cash in > his pocket, the man set out on his own. He built a shack by the > city dump out of flattened tin cans nailed to a frame. With a > homemade wheelbarrow he went into the junk business, fixing > and selling various scrap he found. > That fall, he stopped by the Bakers’ house with his wheelbar- > row; a chicken hung upside down from one side. When everyone > had come out to say hello, he carefully untied the string that held > the chicken’s feet and set her upright on the pavement. As he > wound the scrap of hemp onto a stick, he announced that the > chicken, who was just regaining her balance, was his gift to the > family. The Bakers thanked him and watched as he wheeled his > cart down the street. That was the last they ever saw of the man, > but his life was one of many their unpretentious generosity > touched. > A Bahá’í from the Bakers’ early days in Lima, Joseph W. Stahl, > remembered those times: > One incident which I have never talked about publicly > and which I don’t think very many persons know about in- > volves Mr. Baker. I remember around fifty years ago when I > was working my way through college I needed more money. > The only way I could continue college was to borrow money, > but from whom? The only one I knew personally who I > thought might have a little extra money was Frank Baker. > Remember at that time we were still coming out of the big > depression. I remember going to see Mr. Baker at his office. > After telling him why I was there he said something like, > > “Well, you know I have Louise and Bill in school and I don’t > know.” Then he asked me how much I needed. When I told > him I know he thought I was going to ask for more, but he > said, “Well, I think I can do that.” The only thing I signed > was to endorse the check. Mr. Baker did not require any > interest or repayment plan. After the birth of our first son, I > made a small payment toward my debt. Mr. Baker returned > my check and canceled the debt. > On Friday, March 3, 1933, banks across the country were locked > for a four-day “bank holiday” to halt the growing run on depos- > its. It was another time of crisis for American business. As Presi- > dent Franklin Roosevelt took his oath of office the next day, mil- > lions listened to the voice that became so familiar over the next > twelve years: > Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to > fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror > which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into ad- > vance.1 > The new President’s confidence and optimism had its effect > but did not change the immediate fact: closed banks meant no > cash to pay employees, no money to buy food. It wasn’t a period > when most families had enough to stock their pantries. Working > people, those who had jobs, lived from payday to payday. > During that same time, one of Frank’s Yale classmates sat at > the Board meeting of his flour mill in Minnesota. All day and > most of the night before, they had been there, trying to find a > solution to the same problem companies all over the United States > were facing: how to help their employees through the long bank > holiday when no money could be withdrawn to pay them. > > Franklin Delano Roosevelt, quoted in Schlesinger, “The First Hundred Days > of the New Deal,” in Aspirin Age, p. 276. > > It was late in the afternoon—no one wanted to know how > late. The Minnesota sky was darkening with the coming of night, > or perhaps just from an early spring snowstorm. Those across from > the windows gazed out at the thick, gray skies. The loud discus- > sions of earlier in the day—when righteous anger made them > sure of finding some common enemy responsible and able to make > amends—had given way to the quiet of resigned brooding. Frank > Baker’s college friend, now a middle-aged man, sat in his chair- > man’s position at the head of the table, working over his fingernails > again and again with the sharp end of a letter opener. > Almost unnoticed, an employee entered the room and walked > around the perimeter of the group, stopping at the end of the > table to hand him a small package. Inside the wrapping was a > cigar box and a note. “Hope this will help, Frank.” Reading the > note out loud to the rest of the board, he laughed, something he > wouldn’t have bet on doing that day, at any odds. > “How about a smoke? It won’t help like a drink, but it’s better > than giving up.” > The somber mood seemed to crumble as the dozen men let > their minds go free for a moment. He opened the box to pass it > around, but instead sat staring at the contents. Inside the cigar > box Frank Baker had packed twelve hundred and fifty dollars in > small bills, in payment for flour received from his friend’s mill. > In the rural grocery stores around Lima where Plezol delivered > bread, the bank’s closing made little difference. The turnover of > cash was regular, so the grocers kept their money on hand rather > than driving into the nearest large town for constant deposits and > withdrawals. On the first Friday of every month, Frank’s delivery > men always collected for the month before. The country store > owners knew the banks were closed and would stay closed for a > while, but they didn’t use them, so it hardly mattered. They paid > their February bills right on time. > > After Frank’s employees received part of their wages to get > through the next few days, Frank packed up the last of the money > in the cigar box and sent it off special delivery to pay his Minne- > sota flour bill. He knew the risk he took in sending off all his > cash; not all of his customers would be paying so promptly. But > Frank was good for his bills so, like the solid, responsible man > that he was, he paid it on time. > He was honest, generous, but practical. Mary Lou Ewing wrote, > “I remember when Martha Root was there he wanted to give her > something. Of course, money I’m sure he gave frequently to ev- > eryone. But he could not think of a way to outwit Martha’s habit > of giving away everything given to her. He knew she needed things, > so he went out and bought her a bunch of stockings, thinking > that she couldn’t give those away, and might really use them.” > During the early depression years, Dorothy stayed active in > Lima community life. She and Mother Beecher still studied the > Bahá’í writings every day. Although Dorothy wasn’t successful in > teaching directly, her spiritual awareness was a source of attrac- > tion to people who met her. > Mrs. Elma Miessler heard Dorothy review E. Stanley Jones’s > book Christ of the Indian Road at a PTA meeting. She didn’t rush > out and buy the book, but did go home, wake up her husband, > and tell him about the inspiring talk Dorothy had given. Ed > Miessler had met Frank a few days before at the Rotary Club and > put the two together. He had been as impressed with Frank’s good- > natured stability as Elma was with Dorothy’s zeal, so they invited > the Bakers over for dinner and bridge. Ed and Elma Miessler also > invited the Harrods and Lenore and Dudley Bernstein. Ed never > forgot that evening. > … we had two tables for bridge, and we all seemed to click. > From then on we would have bridge parties at our various > > homes, go out on picnics and weenie roasts and so forth. … > we knew Dorothy as a beautiful, charming hostess, as a won- > derful card player, as the belle of the ball at a dance, an > excellent golfer—in fact a wonderful person. In every field > she excelled. Yet we knew very little of the great spiritual > potential which was buried deep in Dorothy’s soul. > Dorothy didn’t mention the Bahá’í Faith to any of their new > friends. Ed and Elma were both children of Lutheran pastors and > members of the Missouri Synod Lutheran Church. All they knew > about Dorothy and Frank’s religious affiliation was that they were > members of the Ohio Synod Lutheran Church. Because Bahá’ís > believe in the divine foundation of the major world religions and > at that time did not, at least in Lima, have an active community > of their own, participation in Christian churches was not un- > usual at that time. > Outside Dorothy’s studies of the Faith, her Bahá’í activity re- > ally began in places other than Lima. With Elizabeth Greenleaf, > Albert Vail, and Pearl Easterbrook, she taught at a Bahá’í summer > school in August of 1931. Lou and Helen Eggleston, new Bahá’ís > in Detroit, offered their rolling farm near Davison, Michigan, for > the Bahá’ís to use. The whole Baker family went up to enjoy that > first session at “Lou-Helen.” > Dorothy at last found something she could do to serve. Her > real desire had been to write, but she accepted the service that > opened to her even though speaking wasn’t what she had imag- > ined doing. > During the next winter, Dorothy divided her time between > family, social life, community service, and her now highly moti- > vated study of the Bahá’í Faith and its history. The stone house > on Elm Street had a tiny room at the end of the second-floor hall, > just above the front porch. It was meant to be a maid’s room, and > > it was really only an extension of the hall itself, but Dorothy used > it as her study. Heavy green curtains served as the only wall divid- > ing it from the rest of the wide passage off of which, on either > side, were the house’s four large bedrooms. > Dorothy usually pulled the curtains open when she studied so > she could keep better track of family as they came and went. > Early mornings when Bill and Louise left their bedrooms to wash > up for school, they could see their mother sitting on the floor of > the maid’s room, books all around her, every book bristling with > bits of paper, marking, indexing, organizing. When they were > out of the bath and heading back to their rooms, Dorothy would > get up and go downstairs to fix breakfast for everyone. But when > the children came home again in the afternoon, they always knew > where to find her—back in the room at the end of the hall. > In the summer of 1932 the whole Baker family again enjoyed > the Louhelen Bahá’í summer school. They stayed in a cabin by > the dammed stream. Bill remembered, “Dad and I had a great > time at Louhelen. We went fishing in the little stream or in Potter’s > lake. We would fry them up and the family ate them. … Mother > gave the classes and we went fishing.” > That summer Dorothy’s classes were held informally with the > youth. Annamarie and Margaret Kunz, daughters of Anna Kunz, > one of the founding members of the Urbana, Illinois, Bahá’í com- > munity, were both in attendance. Raised in an active community, > they had heard many Bahá’í speakers, but the two girls left Lou- > helen that summer with a new fire. > In 1921 Anna Kunz had made her pilgrimage to Haifa in the > Holy Land. There she received a prayer from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá for her > two daughters. Both young women grew up to render significant > service to the Faith in many areas. Annamarie Kunz Honnold > became an author and has served actively locally and nationally > in the U.S. Bahá’í community, and as the representative of the > > Bahá’í International Community at the United Nations. In 1968 > Margaret Kunz Ruhe moved to Haifa, where the Bahá’í World > Center is located. There she guided at the Bahá’í holy shrines and > the International Archives Building, wrote and served as a hostess > to the world as wife of Dr. David Ruhe, a member of the Univer- > sal House of Justice from 1968 until his retirement in 1993. > As a teenager, Margaret could not understand why Dorothy > hadn’t been in her life all along. “Why?” she begged her mother, > “Why have we never heard of Dorothy Baker before?” Anna Kunz > later said she felt it was in large part because of Dorothy that her > two daughters became Bahá’ís. > But what was it about this woman—Luella and Henry Beecher’s > daughter, Frank Baker’s wife, Louise and Bill’s mother, Sara and > Conrad’s stepmother—what made her so special? > In 1933 Dorothy served as counselor and advisor to the young > people’s “Discussion and Consultation Group,” which met every > day from 11:00 A.M. until noon at Louhelen. She also taught a > daily class called “Studies in Nabíl’s Narrative.” In the same di- > rect, dramatic language she had planned to use for Bahá’í children’s > stories, she was able to share the lives of the early heroes and > heroines of the Faith with the youth and adults in her classes. > Sitting outside on the grass, surrounded by her young students, > or in one of the makeshift classrooms in the old barn or farm- > house of Louhelen Ranch, Dorothy had one purpose: to ignite > her listeners. But fire must be lit with a ready instrument or with > fire itself. Dorothy’s own fascination with her subject and the bond > she felt with the early Bábís was intense, and it spread to her audi- > ence. The lives of the Dawn-Breakers were not so much recounted > as relived in her heart and in her speech. > To the resounding question, “Who do you claim to be?” Dor- > othy and her young friends witnessed the Báb’s reply, “I am, I > am, the promised One! I am the One whose name you have for a > > thousand years invoked, at whose mention you have risen, whose > advent you have longed to witness, and the hour of whose Rev- > elation you have prayed to God to hasten.”1 Dorothy was not just > conveying information. She was taking the youth with her to meet > others whose calling, like hers and like theirs, was to become true > followers of the Glory and the Light. > Dorothy did not speak of issues and ideas that meant some- > thing to her only peripherally. She spoke of her most burning > passion, of her Best Beloved. How could those around her not > fall in love too? Her message to the youth was that they could, > and must, if they wished to live victoriously, throw themselves > into the shining sea of truth and the sacrifice that beckoned the > early martyrs and now beckoned them. > For twenty years Dorothy had pulled close, then drawn back > from that sea. The suffering of recent times and her desperate > yearning to serve finally broke the protective barrier that had al- > ways kept her separate from it. She at last discovered the brilliant > delight of following deep into its fathomless worlds, far removed > from the pain and passing joys offered by the shadow kingdom of > physical reality. This understanding she offered her students with > perfect confidence that they would be unable to pull themselves > away from the shores of that sea of truth until, like her, they at > last immersed themselves in its life-giving waters. > > Nabíl-i-A’ẓam [Muḥammad-i-Zarandí] The Dawn-Breakers: Nabíl’s Narrative > of the Early Days of the Bahá’í Revelation, trans. and ed. Shoghi Effendi > (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1932), p. 315–16. > > Chapter 10 > Passing of Mother Beecher, 1932 > At home again, Dorothy was even more energetic in her studies > with Mother Beecher. In spite of her teaching experiences at > Louhelen and her broadened understanding, when Bahá’í friends > visited the Baker household it was never Dorothy who discussed > the Faith with them. Mother Beecher spoke; Dorothy would come > in to hear what she had to say but never to add her own com- > ments. The exception was with her own children; with them she > taught freely. Louise vividly recalled a time when she was eight > and Bill was two years younger and at a family Bahá’í children’s > class in Lima: > One winter afternoon Bill, Muzz and I sat on the floor in > the music room. Muzz had been telling us stories about > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, and ended with the one about the Master teach- > ing Howard MacNutt to pray. We talked about prayer for a > minute or so. It was one of those days when I felt like a > sponge, soaking up everything Muzz said. Bill was enough > younger that his mind began to wander. One of his bean > bags had broken, and Bill was playing with some loose beans. > … He tried to stuff one of the beans into his ear. Muzz > remonstrated with him. “Billy, don’t do that, dear. It could > get stuck in there, and we might have to take you to the > doctor’s to get it out.” She went back to her story, and Bill > > went back to pouring his beans from one hand to another. > He put one in his mouth and rolled it around, pushing it > across the outside of his upper teeth and gums with his > tongue. Again Muzz stopped to tell him, “Billy, dear, when > you play with small, hard things like those beans in your > mouth, you could easily breathe one down your throat. It > could catch in your windpipe and choke you.” Bill stopped, > but finally entertained himself by trying to push one of the > beans into his nostril. Muzz decided it was time to really > impress him with the danger. “Bill, if that got stuck in your > nose you might breathe it right down into your lungs, and > choke yourself to death. Now stop it!” Bill hastily removed > the offending object and gazed down at this surprisingly and > unexpectedly dangerous item. > I was still absorbed in all that Muzz was saying, and when > she asked if we would like to “say a little prayer,” I was all for > it. Bill also agreed, although he was becoming extremely rest- > less. We were sitting cross-legged, facing each other as if we > were at three points of a small triangle. Muzz spoke of the > need to concentrate and turn our hearts toward God when > we prayed; to remember that when we prayed, we were stand- > ing in the presence of God. We closed our eyes and Muzz > recited a short prayer with the utmost devotion. In the middle > of it I opened my eyes to gaze at her, because I loved the > joyous, reverent look she often had when she prayed. I > glanced at Bill and saw him push his bean up into one of his > nostrils. He tried to dislodge it, but only managed to push it > farther in. His face twisted in panic. It was obvious that he > was convinced that at any moment he was going to “breathe > it into his lungs and choke to death,” as Muzz had proph- > esied he might. So far as he knew, he was facing imminent > death. At the same time I knew he felt that he was “standing > in the presence of God.” I could not close my eyes. I, too, > > was sure that Bill might die at any moment. I watched him > carefully, ready to interrupt the prayer at the first sign that > the end was near, but hesitant to act too hastily when Bill > himself kept silent. Muzz finished the prayer, but sat silent a > moment longer, her eyes closed. Only when she opened her > eyes did Bill allow his fear to overcome his self-control. “Oh, > Muzz,” he wept, “I’m going to die!” > That really jerked Muzz back to earth in a hurry. She rolled > forward onto her knees and put her arms around her little > son, cuddling him against her breast. “Oh, Billy, what is it? > What’s wrong?” > “Mommy,” he sobbed, “I didn’t mind you. I stuck the > bean in my nose, and now it’s stuck and I’m going to die!” > Muzz sat back and asked, “Which nostril?” Bill pointed. > “Put your thumb over your other nostril, hard, and blow as > hard as you can.” Bill obeyed, and the offending bean shot > out. “Here, take my hankie,” Muzz added. Bill accepted and > used it to good effect. Muzz put her arm around Bill and > comforted him. “You’re so brave, Bill, and so reverent. You > thought you were going to die, but wouldn’t interrupt the > prayer. That is the same courage that was shown by the mar- > tyrs. I’m truly very, very proud of you.” She went on prais- > ing him, but finally ended by telling Bill, “But if you ever > find yourself in such a position again—of course it won’t be > a bean in your nose—but if something else happens, you be > sure to interrupt whatever we’re doing and tell me instantly.” > She talked about that, too, a little longer, and Bill and I > finally went off to play. > > In 1930 Dorothy had hired a part-time secretary for Mother > Beecher so that, even though she was too feeble to travel to give > talks or even to write for long, she could stay in contact with her > Bahá’í “children” around the country. She dictated long letters > > quoting passages from the Bahá’í writings, explaining what she > understood from them, encouraging her students to peruse the > writings themselves, and, above all, to be active. > Mother Beecher also favored catching them up on the spiritual > implications of important international situations, which she fol- > lowed closely by listening to Lowell Thomas’s news broadcast on > the radio each evening and continuing her lifelong habit of read- > ing the New York Times every morning. On Sundays, in Mother > Beecher’s opinion, Harry Emerson Fosdick’s radio sermon was > not to be missed by any thinking person. Her efforts to stay cur- > rent took a great deal of energy, but she continued regardless of > the limitations imposed by her ninety-one years. > Dorothy was home from Louhelen by early August, 1932. Sit- > ting in her room one morning, she could hear the squeak of her > grandmother’s wicker rocking chair as she sat in the next room > reading her paper. The noise was one Dorothy was used to and > enjoyed hearing through the wall that separated their rooms. Then > she heard the creak of wood as Mother Beecher rose, putting all > her weight on the rocker’s arms. A loud crack, followed by a reso- > nant thud, made Dorothy’s chair tremble. Pushing aside her pa- > pers and calling out, she ran through the hall and into the next > bedroom. Dorothy found Mother Beecher on the floor between > rocker and bureau. The simple act of standing had broken her > brittle hip bone. The doctor said recovery at her age was very > unlikely. After he had left, Dorothy asked Mother Beecher if she > would be more comfortable in the hospital, where they were sure > to take the very best care of her, or if she would prefer to be in her > own room, with family nearby and nurses around the clock. > Mother Beecher was definite, even under the influence of the > morphine the doctor gave her; she far preferred to stay at home > with her family. > > During the next week Bahá’í friends and family members vis- > ited from everywhere. Dorothy arranged for some of them to stay > at the guest house half a block away, but the majority stayed with > the Bakers. When Mother Beecher was awake, she visited with > each of them, not allowing herself to lose consciousness until > after her son Henry arrived from New Jersey. Then she slipped > into a coma, and ten days after her fall she died. The funeral was > held on August 22, conducted by the family’s old and dear friend > from Buffalo, Mrs. Grace Ober. > Soon after, Dorothy corresponded with Shoghi Effendi, asking > permission, once again, to write, but this time about a subject > already well known to her. His response came relatively quickly. > Persian Colony, > Haifa, Palestine, > 18–10–32 > Dear Mrs. Baker, > Shoghi Effendi wishes me to acknowledge the receipt of > your letter dated August 30, 1932. > The Guardian has surely no objection to an account of > the life and experiences of Mother Beecher. In fact, he wel- > comes such an effort, because it is very interesting and very > useful to future generations to have on record the activities > of those Early Bahá’ís who broke the dawn of the New Era > in the West. But such work naturally falls under the jurisdic- > tion of the National Assembly in America, and the Guard- > ian does not wish to assume to himself duties that are theirs. > He wishes you therefore to refer the matter to them and > abide by their decision. > Shoghi Effendi is very glad to see that the friends are study- > > ing Nabíl’s Narrative with great care and beginning to ap- > preciate the true significance of the Báb and His Message in > this glorious Dispensation. … > Assuring you of Shoghi Effendi’s prayers and best wishes > I beg to remain, > Yours ever sincerely, > Ruhi Afnan > May the Beloved bless, comfort and protect you, and en- > able you to follow the glorious example of our dear sister, > Mother Beecher, whose passing I deplore, for whose soul I > will continue to pray, and for whose services I shall ever cher- > ish a lively and grateful appreciation. > Shoghi > Dorothy did write an account of Mother Beecher’s life. The > articles were published in five issues of The Bahá’í Magazine be- > tween October 1933 and March 1934 and were originally entitled > “The Evolution of a Bahá’í—Incidents from the Life of Mother > Beecher.” They review Ellen Tuller Beecher’s life as a young woman > in New England and her search then and later for spiritual truth. > The articles deal almost exclusively with important incidents that > reveal her early spiritual potential or that mark moments of real- > ization leading up to her recognition of Bahá’u’lláh, before His > son ‘Abdu’l-Bahá visited America. > Mother Beecher’s death seemed to add dimension to Dorothy’s > spiritual longing and perhaps to the development of her own > potential. Ed Miessler, a friend from Lima who was not yet a > Bahá’í, wrote of Mother Beecher and the effect he sensed her > death had on Dorothy. > > 26. Dorothy’s father, 27 Dorothy’s grandmother, > Henry Beecher, 1933. Mother Beecher, at ninety, June > He became a Bahá’í in 1947 1930. A photograph taken while > she was speaking at a meeting in > Columbus, Ohio. > > A short time later we met precious Grandmother Beecher. > This was in 1932, after befriending Frank and Dorothy. We > had the great privilege of inviting her to our home. She had > supper with us. After supper, she sat us down on the sofa, > one on either side of her, and talked to us for two hours. We > loved her. We admired her—her lucidness and brilliance. > We thought “Too bad she isn’t a Lutheran!” Within a few > days she fell and broke her hip, and within a week after that > we attended our first Bahá’í funeral. It was a revelation to us. > It was so beautiful! It was really an open door to a new life. > > The mantle of Grandmother Beecher seems to have fallen > upon the shoulders of Dorothy. I want to read one of the > selections of the Báb, > “Death does not separate the soul of the believer from his > scene of previous activity, but only increases his powers. All > those who work for this Great Cause will continue to do so > whether they are in the body or out of it. If martyred, they > will attach to those who can best secure their influence, and > the power of these will be doubled or quadrupled by the > dynamic assistance of those who have already left the scenes > of outward action.” > This was copied from Amelia Collins’ prayer book by > Luella Beecher, Dorothy’s mother ….1 > Perhaps, as the passage above suggested to Ed Miessler, Mother > Beecher’s death did influence her granddaughter and increase > Dorothy’s power to work for the Cause. Her metamorphosis was > certainly dramatic, but whether it was influenced by Mother > Beecher’s passing can be known only to God. Certainly, though, > Dorothy’s near death in 1929, the confirming moments with Albert > Vail and in prayer at the House of Worship, then a second close > brush with death a year later combined with Dorothy’s dedicated > study of the Faith, her teaching efforts, and Mother Beecher’s > spiritual influence to deeply affect her life and commitments. It is > clear that, for whatever reasons, when Dorothy’s day for greatness > dawned, she was not found lying on her couch, but awake and > ardently wishing to serve. > > Though this passage was widely circulated at the time, it has not been authenticated. > > Chapter 11 > Growth of the Lima Bahá’í community, 1932–34 > With Mother Beecher gone, discouragement and despair stayed > close. In her family and in her town, Dorothy felt almost alone in > her beliefs. But not quite; Frank was a Bahá’í. He was quiet about > it though. With her grandmother gone, Dorothy no longer had > someone with whom she could explore the depths of the Bahá’í > writings and the facets of her own spiritual growth. > Frank was a worker. He lived his life devoted to his straightfor- > ward yet noble purposes: providing for his family, running his > bakery, and, with his assets, helping local boys with college tu- > ition or improving conditions for the employees at Plezol. Dor- > othy felt alone with the inner weight of inherited responsibility > and the self-imposed, almost self-inflicted, resolve to be of ser- > vice to the Bahá’í Faith. > School started the month after Mother Beecher died. Frank > was always at work; now all the children were out of the house, > too. Dorothy sat down to a lonely cup of coffee in the pullman, > the little room between the kitchen and dining room just large > enough for the built-in benches and table. A double window above > the table overlooked the backyard. On the opposite wall next to > the china cabinet was the door to the basement where, Dorothy > knew, the laundry waited for attention. The kitchen clock, her > only companion, clucked like a mechanical chicken. Dorothy > opened her folder to one of the last pages of notes she had made > weeks before with her grandmother, before the accident. There > > on the page was a large circle, drawn as Mother Beecher had shown > her, with smaller globes on its circumference. The uppermost and > largest of the globes was labeled “God, The Infinite Essence, > Unknowable One.” To the left of that globe, descending to the > bottom of the circle, the smaller globes were labeled “Mineral,” > “Vegetable,” “Animal,” and, at the bottom, opposite the one > marked “God,” was a circle labeled “Man.” Half was darkened > in, like the circles representing other creations of God on earth, > and half was left light like the spiraling arc that stretched up the > right side of the circle, ascending to God. Across the top of the > chart, on some happier day, Dorothy had written, “The law of > life is motion. From God we come and to Him do we return.” > Now life’s motion seemed to have stopped. She felt angry to be > stuck in that house, in that town, doing so little that mattered, > further than ever from any chance to serve. > Still, it seemed stupid to do nothing. She did have one way to > be useful; at least her family depended on her. She decided to go > grocery shopping and cook something special for Frank and the > children. Dorothy took one long drink from her now cold coffee, > closed the notebook, and, picking up her purse, went out to the > car. When she reached the garage she was surprised to find she > could even smile, just from seeing the roadster, “the banana,” > that Connie had brought home from Yale, once yellow, now > painted gray especially for her. Louise and Bill thought it had her > initials written all over it—DB for “Dodge Brothers.” All cars, > according to the children, were family members. Frank and Dor- > othy always enjoyed their anthropomorphic vision. When Louise > was three she could name all the young Bakers: Connie Baker, > Sally (Sara) Baker, Billy Baker, Weezy Baker, and Toody Baker > (for Studebaker, an American car). > That night, busy in the kitchen when Frank came home, Dor- > othy felt better. He sniffed around the oven as he caught her up > on his day at the bakery. > > 28. Louise, Dorothy, Frank, and Bill Baker in 1932, all dressed up > for a ride below Niagara Falls on “The Maid of the Mist.” > > “Floyd Spahr came by my office.” > “How’s he doing? Still happy at Plezol, I hope, don’t know > what you’d do without him.” > “Oh, yeah, it wasn’t business—he and some others are study- > ing something called Unity and thought we might know enough > to give a class on it.” > “I’ve heard of it, but that’s all.” > “Well, I told him you were good at talking about religion and > you could probably tell him about Bahá’í since they believe in > unity, too.” > Dorothy stopped stirring; her spoon slipped into the sauce. > “What did he say?” > “He said it sounds good. They’re all coming over next Sunday > night.” > > It was Monday. That gave her four full days and maybe a little > time on the weekend to get ready. Dorothy spent every free hour > she could find that week reading and indexing, preparing her talk. > She waded through material that seemed to offer no hope of form- > ing a coherent whole. Presenting the Bahá’í Faith in its entirety > was impossible. It was too vast—the history, the laws, the huge, > world-embracing concepts for a new social order, the myriad an- > swers for the desperate personal questions every thinking indi- > vidual asks about how and why he lives. She kept digging and > finding pieces that seemed to fit, losing herself in the search. Some- > times they seemed to form into a manageable whole; then anxi- > ety about the upcoming talk would make the fragments of infor- > mation seem hopelessly diffuse. > By that weekend the outline had expanded to include every- > thing her thirty-odd hours of study had touched on. Then a pat- > tern began to emerge and Dorothy followed it, planning, editing, > connecting each thought with the next. Stories, insights from time > spent with Mother Beecher tied theory into reality so that by Sun- > day night Dorothy was nervous, but prepared. The group that > met that first Sunday consisted of the Bakers, Floyd and Gertrude > Spahr, Frank and Charlene Warner, Marie Kramer, and a few others. > > Dorothy was able to inform Shoghi Effendi on February 2, 1933, > of the formation of the first Bahá’í community in Lima, Ohio. > There were eighteen members, and a second study group had > been formed for other interested individuals. > > Persian Colony, > Haifa, Palestine > Feb. 17th, 1933 > > Dear Mrs. Baker: > Shoghi Effendi wishes me to acknowledge the receipt of > your letter dated February 2nd, 1933. > The news that the Bahá’í group in Lima is increasing rap- > idly and that there are constant additions to your numbers > made the Guardian very happy. He sincerely hopes that this > progress will be accelerated and that, before long, the people > will in throngs cluster under the banner of Bahá’u’lláh. > It is, however, very important that these newcomers should > study the teachings and become thoroughly familiar with > them, otherwise their faith will be established upon shifting > sand and could be easily demolished. The words of Bahá’u’- > lláh and the Master, however, have a creative power and are > sure to awaken in the reader the undying fire of the love of > God. > Please extend to all the friends there the Guardian’s lov- > ing greetings and assure them of his prayers. > With best wishes, > Yours ever sincerely, > Ruhi Afnan > Dear co-worker: > Your letter brought much joy to my heart. The interests > of your new-born community are the object of my constant > prayers at the holy shrines. I cherish fond hopes for its ex- > tension and consolidation. May the Beloved guide your steps > and enable that centre to radiate powerfully the light of the > Abhá Revelation. > Your true brother, > Shoghi > > Through the spring the classes continued, and Dorothy con- > tinued to prepare for each by spending twenty to forty hours a > week studying the Faith. > Ed and Elma Miessler became interested in the Bakers’ new > activities. Ed overheard Dorothy inviting mutual friends to a talk > by Albert Vail and asked, “Couldn’t we come along, too?” Dor- > othy answered, “Of course, but you are so happy in your church, > I didn’t think you would be interested.” > Ed wasn’t too impressed with the whole idea of a religion that > extended beyond Christianity, but Albert Vail’s talk and their dis- > cussion afterwards interested him enough to make him want to > read further. Both he and Elma became serious students of the > Bahá’í Faith. To their parents’ horror they even decided to join > the growing Bahá’í community in Lima. When their parents found > out both their fathers, clergymen who knew little but that the > Faith was not Lutheran, demanded that their children stay away > from “that Baker woman,” go to church, read the Bible, and throw > away their Bahá’í books. The Miesslers agreed to all but the last. > Despite the pressure and the forced division between the > Miesslers and their Bahá’í friends, a division they abided by for > the sake of family peace, “that Baker woman” saw to it that Ed > and Elma received all the Bahá’í newsletters, bulletins, and books > as they were published. In one issue of Bahá’í News they read > from the writings of the Guardian that it is incumbent upon > Bahá’ís to attend the Nineteen Day Feast, that only illness or ab- > sence from the city is considered an adequate excuse. After al- > most a year of isolation, they could no longer stand to live in > half-light. The Miesslers attended the next Nineteen Day Feast > and were promptly excommunicated from the Lutheran Church. > Lenore Bernstein, one of the first people Frank and Dorothy > met through Ed and Elma, was appalled at the news that the > > Miesslers had been denied further contact with their church. Years > later Lenore wrote, > When Elma told me they were thrown out of their church I > asked her what was this “terrible thing they were about to > accept that would cause their minister to dismiss them from > his flock.” Then she gave me the principles of the Faith and > I said—“Well, I can’t see what’s wrong with that. I can cer- > tainly accept all that teaching.” She answered, “Well then, > you are a Bahá’í,” and I almost think it was that simple in > those early days to become part of the Bahá’í family. > > Dorothy was particularly vexed during the early development > of the Lima community about another woman who seemed very > close to becoming a Bahá’í yet hesitated to become a part of the > Faith. Finally, Dorothy prayed that Bahá’u’lláh would appear to > her friend in a dream; then she would surely be convinced of the > truth of His revelation. The next morning there the woman stood > at Dorothy’s front door, full of the news that the night before she > had dreamed of Bahá’u’lláh, Who had announced that He was > the Promised One. Dorothy was ecstatic, but her friend was not. > “How,” she asked, “could He have done that? It was not good > sportsmanship. Jesus Christ would never have tried to influence > me like that. I’ll never accept Bahá’u’lláh.” Crushed, Dorothy rec- > ognized her own folly and decided never again to pray for any- > thing but God’s first choice. > On April 21, 1933, all of the Lima Bahá’ís assembled for their > annual meeting. They consulted on electing a Local Spiritual > Assembly but decided it might be better to study Bahá’í adminis- > tration during the coming year, as they had so far concerned them- > selves mainly with the spiritual teachings. Then they would be > > ready to elect an assembly at Riḍván 1934. In a letter to the Bahá’í > National Center they explained their decision and post haste re- > ceived a very direct reply—in fact, in Dorothy’s recollection, “a > snippy letter, scolding us for not forming our assembly,” and ex- > plaining that wherever nine adult Bahá’ís reside they must form > their Local Spiritual Assembly on April 21. > The Lima Bahá’ís responded by holding elections at their next > Nineteen Day Feast for a “Local Spiritual Committee” that func- > tioned as if it were an assembly until the situation was remedied > in April of the following year. The month before that election, on > March 26, 1934, Dorothy wrote to the Guardian, asking on be- > half of the Lima community for his prayers. Twenty-nine Bahá’ís > were active, but Dorothy wrote that opposition from some of the > Lima clergy kept many more from participating. > On behalf of the Guardian his secretary wrote, on April 15, > … The forces of opposition which the clergy of Lima have > used and are still using in order to counteract the continued > advancement of the Faith of God will assuredly be van- > quished. Their hatred, instead of quenching the flame of > faith in the hearts of the faithful, will serve to intensify it. > The believers should, therefore, be confident, and encour- > aged by such an assurance; they should redouble their efforts > for the extension of the Cause. … > And the Guardian added, > May the Almighty assist you in your efforts to safeguard the > interests of our beloved Faith and may He enable you to > promote them with increasing effectiveness and power. > Your true brother, > Shoghi > > The Lima community suffered some setbacks from the verbal > attacks, but for the most part the feeling of the time was vitality. > The Sunday night classes were becoming an attraction not only > for people from Lima but for visitors from nearby villages. In the > spring of 1935 the Bakers decided to take down the wall between > the living and dining rooms of their home so they could accom- > modate the sometimes fifty or more guests. > Many of the difficulties in Dorothy’s growing Bahá’í family > were caused by the strains of adolescence, pulling away from the > rather priggish status quo of Lima that Elsie Austin1 described as > “an insular, reactionary, small town.” The Bahá’í Faith was new; > it had to be tried on, they had to practice wearing it. In their > initial enthusiastic embrace some tended to embellish its clear, > exquisite beauty, assuming that something so good could only be > improved by their personal additions. > Even though Bahá’ís are guided not to join political parties, > during the presidential campaigns of 1936, “Daddy” Gorrell, af- > ter a heated defense of Roosevelt, announced to the other Bahá’ís > within earshot, “Even if we are supposed to stay out of party > politics, no real Bahá’í could vote anything but the straight Demo- > cratic ticket!” > On another Sunday night a Bahá’í from one of the outlying > towns brought a friend to hear about the Faith. After listening to > Dorothy speak about the earlier foundations of other religions, > she broke in to remind Dorothy, “You’re supposed to be talking > about Bahá’í. Why don’t you just get on with it?” She had never > thought of studying other religions. She considered herself a Bahá’í > without ever giving much thought to progressive revelation, a > basic tenet of Bahá’í belief that each divinely appointed Messen- > > A future member of the National Spiritual Assembly, later named a Knight > of Bahá’u’lláh. > > ger of God renews religion and is meant to advance the spiritual > and social state of humankind.1 > But there were also Bahá’ís in Lima like Dorothy’s mother, > Luella, who were more knowledgeable. Luella came to live with > them in 1933 when she and her husband Henry divorced. Even- > tually Dorothy’s father became a Bahá’í, too, in Ft. Lauderdale, > Florida, in 1947. Other Lima Bahá’ís included the Miesslers, the > Spahrs, the Warners, Lenore Bernstein, and many others, who > were deepened and dependable. To this list, in 1935, was added > one of the brilliant lights of Dorothy’s heart: Mary Lou Ewing. > At the same time Mary Lou declared her belief in Bahá’u’lláh, her > husband, Tom, and her mother, Edna Andrews, became Bahá’ís > as well. > Years later, walking together through a snow storm, Dorothy > asked Mary Lou, “Do you realize that the friendship with you > was one of the last of which I allowed myself the luxury?” This > may seem ascetic, but with the energy Dorothy poured into the > Bahá’í communities, first locally, then nationally and internation- > ally, her resources of time and love were completely used. There > was no space left for self-indulgence, even in its most construc- > tive and acceptable form. Instead, Dorothy chose what she called > “universal love” and asked Mary Lou if she thought the Lima > Bahá’ís understood that as she grew in the ability to exercise uni- > versal love, she also grew “in the ability to feel personal love.” She > wanted them to know, later on when she was rarely in Lima, that > her personal love for them was enhanced, not reduced, by this > new and broader love for humanity. > > See Appendix I (pp. 499-534) for two of Dorothy Baker’s articles on the > subject of progressive revelation, first published as the pamphlets “The Victory > of the Spirit” and “Religion Returns.” > > In those first years, though, the conflict between time, respon- > sibilities, and the desires of the human heart had not yet come to > a head. There was energy for everything: the Sunday night meet- > ings, preparing her talks for them, setting up the den for the Fri- > day night Bahá’í Men’s Club led by Harry Jay, the weekly lun- > cheon Dorothy gave for the Bahá’í women and their friends, and > especially, time for study of the writings and for teaching the chil- > dren. Bill Baker was about ten in the mid-30s when Bahá’í > children’s classes were organized in Lima. > I recall the Sunday school classes we used to have at the > Miesslers, and for a while at the Bernsteins, and sometimes > at our house, and though I dutifully learned the songs and > listened to lessons, etc., I much preferred classes in which > Mother would tell stories. … When Mother was really get- > ting under way teaching in Lima I remember that she would > prepare her lessons (I think for the Tuesday night classes) on > yellow pads. Every afternoon when I came home from school > she would be writing and as she worked; I think she was > indexing her Bahá’í books. None of them were indexed then, > but she had pages and pages of index references stuck in all > her books. I often thought of that time when people said > afterwards that Mother has such a gift. She seemed to speak > so freely from the writings and always seemed to know just > where things were. … > Children played a significant part in Dorothy’s life and in her > service. In 1936, a newspaper article included the following ac- > count of Dorothy’s interests. > Mrs. Baker is … particularly interested in problems of chil- > dren and youth. In her home city of Lima she has long been > > actively associated with the educational program of the Par- > ent Teachers Association. For several years she has directed > the Bahá’í Young People’s Summer Conference at Davison, > Mich.1 > > Years later, when her children were grown and Dorothy was > visiting Ypsilanti, Michigan, she and Junie (Katherine) Faily Perrot > talked about being an attentive parent. Junie remembered that > Dorothy “told me to take good care of my children now while > they are young. She said she didn’t go out to teach until her chil- > dren were old enough.” > Dorothy’s devotion to children and youth was further proof > that she took her Faith seriously. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote, “O ye lov- > ing mothers, know ye that in God’s sight, the best of all ways to > worship Him is to educate the children and train them in all the > perfections of humankind; and no nobler deed than this can be > imagined.”2 > Dorothy no longer felt remote from the joys of life. In Lima > she delighted in the closeness of her friendships, in her family, > and in her cozy community. In 1935 Frank and Dorothy were > delighted to go up to Bridgeport, Connecticut, for Conrad Baker’s > wedding. Conrad met Marjorie Wheeler through his roommate > at Yale and married her on July 23, 1935, the year after his gradu- > ation from Yale Medical School. So the Baker family that at one > time seemed so fragile was growing and expanding. > And Dorothy now had purpose in her life. Even the dull rep- > > April 1936, Geneva Times, Geneva, New York. > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Women, Extracts from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá Shoghi Effendi, and the Universal House of Justice (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í > Publishing Trust, 1997), p. 28. > > etition of household activities became bearable and, at times, > sweet. When Mary Lou ran over to Dorothy’s one day to borrow > her iron, Dorothy said, “Oh, Mary Lou, what fun! One of the > things from my house will go to your house and I will use it even > more lovingly because it served you!” Life had been charged with > some new energy that made even the ordinary special. > Dorothy had a rather mystical communion with the picture of > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in her living room. Mary Lou would see her look at > it as if she had moved away, for a moment, into the reality of the > picture. Once Dorothy walked over to it, laid her cheek against > its glass and said, “I can go anywhere in the world. I can go through > anything in the world, as long as I have my Beloved.” Mary Lou > found her not the least bit self-conscious or theatrical. She was > speaking of a very real love. > Because of a problem that had begun at the time of Bill’s birth, > Dorothy needed surgery, so she entered a Catholic hospital near > Lima. Even there her teaching continued. The nuns became in- > tensely interested in the spiritual aura that seemed to surround > Dorothy. One nun even asked if she should leave her order to > become a Bahá’í. After prayer with the sister, Dorothy considered > the situation and answered by explaining how acceptable her ser- > vice as a nurse was in God’s sight, and that God no doubt could > also accept her belief in Bahá’u’lláh, even if she stayed on in her > nursing order. > After Dorothy’s release from the hospital, she went back to her > busy schedule. In fact the pressure increased. She had to keep the > ever-growing Bahá’í community in Lima on an even keel, deal > with the responsibility of seeing Louise and Bill into their teens, > plus cope with the beginnings of the tremendous strain on Frank > as his business headed toward rocky years that were, heartbreak- > ingly, connected with Dorothy’s Bahá’í activities. She also had to > > consider responsibilities outside of Lima: membership on the Cen- > tral States Summer School Committee plus preparation to teach > summer school classes. All of it combined to shake Dorothy’s > confidence in her ability to accomplish everything with even > moderate success. > Dorothy’s upper teeth had been the cause of serious problems > for years, but she was unaware how serious. At the same time her > Bahá’í workload grew heavier, Dorothy had to have several teeth > removed and a bridge put in their place. As she went under the > anesthetic in the dentist’s office, a round chart seemed to appear > on the wall. It turned like a roulette wheel, the different-colored > spaces moving clockwise around the perimeter. Each space seemed > to fill with letters and words toward the bottom. As it reached the > twelve o’clock position, the words vanished. Dorothy heard a voice > say, “Pick a space. Watch it.” She looked more closely, focusing > on a blank space. As she watched the wheel turn, writing began to > appear in the space: “Mrs. Bernstein cannot keep her appoint- > ment.” Then the words flicked under a rubber eraser at the top of > the wheel, and the message was gone. > When Dorothy began to come out from under the anesthesia > she briefly forced open her eyes to see the chart on the wall. Noth- > ing was there. Just then the door opened. She heard the nurse’s > voice: “Mrs. Bernstein just phoned. She can’t come in today.” > Unsure of what was real and what was not, Dorothy heard an- > other voice, but it did not come from the room where she lay: > “You see there is a time for everything.” > In the first short talk Dorothy gave at the Bahá’í House of > Worship in Wilmette, she ended every point made with the deeply > felt sentiment, “Blessed are those who follow guidance.” Dorothy > saw the strange moments of watching the turning roulette wheel > as just that—guidance. Instead of dismissing that image as the > > fictitious effect of exhaustion and the dentist’s anesthetic, Dor- > othy took the odd cue as a message and very determinedly fol- > lowed it—there would be time for everything. > Whatever obstacles stood in her way, from then on Dorothy > knew that the attitude that would lead to blessings was one of > fearless acceptance of her responsibilities without the anxiety that > had once accompanied them. The limitations were gone; as long > as she didn’t stand in her own way, there would be time in her life > for all that she truly wanted to do. Anxiety about finding needed > time, fear of failure, these were nets in which she no longer wished > to entangle herself. > Turning away from the battles that anxiety and discourage- > ment waged, Dorothy instead chose not to concentrate on what > sometimes seemed to be overwhelming odds against her success. > She faced the whole mirror of her heart to God and turned its > opaque back to the underworld of creeping doubts and fearful, > pointless imaginings, knowing that “vain imaginings” could be > illusions based on vanity, but that they could also be imaginings > that were in vain, having no base in reality or hope of fulfillment. > These floating fears and desires she strictly avoided, calling them > useless thoughts. > There were still moments of despair or depression, but Dor- > othy’s efforts in Lima began to balance out. At times she became > overtired, and Frank would ask her to list all her committees and > activities. Then he would suggest she consider which of these did > not vitally require her presence. Usually, Dorothy came up with > at least one activity which, on his recommendation, she would > then drop. With Frank’s help she managed to keep her Bahá’í > work in its place, as the major interest of her life, but not as a > ravenous god to which all else, including the happiness of chil- > dren and husband, had to be totally sacrificed. > > In fact, Dorothy’s enthusiasms included aspects of her work at > home. On the way home from National Convention in the spring > of each year, Dorothy always stopped at roadside stands to buy > whatever fruit the farmers brought to sell. Convention began just > before strawberry time, so she usually arrived home with a crate > of berries. Dorothy would gather the whole family to help with > the jam making. She had a real interest in the whole process and > infused the operations with the same sort of intensity she gave to > other projects. Rhubarb from the back yard, well sugared, was > the base for the jam, or Dorothy used several cans of pineapple. > Then the strawberries would go in, and as summer fruits ripened > Dorothy added them to the big crock of jam in the cellar, making > “heavenly hash,” as the Bakers called it. Later in the year, when > Frank came home with a bushel or two of fresh peaches, the fam- > ily gathered again as Dorothy organized the canning. A favorite > dessert was “fried eggs,” two peach halves with the curved sides > up and each surrounded by a circle of fresh whipped cream. She > once commented that she needed these activities to keep a bal- > ance in her life. > Frank adored the thriving home life Dorothy created, but he > encouraged her to take on everything she wanted to do. With real > appreciation Dorothy often told people of Frank’s advice to her: > “We both love this Cause, and neither one of us wants you to > give only your gray hairs to it.” > Just as he encouraged her, Dorothy showed great gentleness > toward her husband. When the double living room and the wide > entry hall of their home were filled with people during the Sun- > day night meetings, Frank would settle himself on the comfort- > able blue couch in the very back of the room and would occa- > sionally fall asleep as Dorothy spoke. But her loving, indulgent > smile removed all embarrassment. When a snore or sleepy snort > > made heads turn, she would laugh and suggest that if it annoyed > anyone they should wake him, but otherwise let him sleep. > Frank had his own ways of serving. He and Louis Gregory1 > were very close friends, and Frank took pride in being a person > on whom Louis could rely. Louis Gregory was an African Ameri- > can attorney upon whose noble character had been left the lasting > imprint of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s influence. Louis often stopped in Lima, > as many Bahá’ís did while traveling cross country by train or car. > Louis was scheduled to speak in Lima one evening, but phoned > Frank to say he would be in early. Frank was delighted and told > him, “I’ll meet your train and we can have lunch at the Argonne > Hotel.” > The Argonne Hotel, the best hotel in Lima, also had the best > restaurant. Lima, a conservative small town and a hub for the far- > flung farming communities that surrounded it, was also, oddly > enough, a sort of off-season congregating place for members of > organized crime. Not that organized crime was active there, but > certain crime bosses were in and out of Lima from time to time, > apparently when Chicago became too dangerous. In fact, one of > the heavy, large cars Frank favored was a maroon Cadillac whose > previous owner had been, according to the salesman, Al Capone. > Louise Baker remembers that the car had a beautiful leather inte- > rior, tiny crystal bud vases in the backseat. It was a limousine. > Frank always joked that he bought it so he could carry a whole > Local Spiritual Assembly. > > For more information about Louis Gregory, see Gayle Morrison, To Move > the World. Louis G. Gregory and the Advancement of Racial Unity in America, > foreword by Glenford E. Mitchell (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, > 1982). > > Perhaps because this criminal element favored occasional re- > treats to Lima, the best hotels were actually quite elaborate. Un- > fortunately though, the Argonne did not serve blacks. > When Frank realized he had invited Louis Gregory into a situ- > ation that might be embarrassing for him, he quickly decided to > take Louis elsewhere, possibly the Kiwanis Grill. He knew Louis > would understand. But he would also be hurt. Frank couldn’t > stand that. He felt it was ridiculous, anyway, denying entrance to > a man like Louis Gregory, whose sterling character would shine > anywhere. > Louise Baker remembers, “As Dad considered the question he > became more and more incensed that such an outstanding man > as Louis Gregory could be treated as an inferior by anyone, esp- > ecially when he was head and shoulders above everybody else who > would be eating there. As he thought about Louis his admiration > for him increased still further until he finally ended with a tre- > mendous sense of pride that he, Frank Baker, had the great privi- > lege of taking Louis Gregory to lunch.” > By the time Frank picked up Louis at the station, he had made > his decision. He drove directly to the front of the Argonne Hotel > in his grand automobile and escorted Louis through the entrance > and into the lobby. At the restaurant he informed the maître d’ > they had a reservation and required a window table. The maître > d’ obediently led them through the restaurant, Frank following > Louis. But at the table, Frank insisted on doing the honors of > seating Louis himself. > Dorothy was just leaving the house when the telephone rang. > She didn’t even know Louis was in town yet, so she had no idea > what the Lima News reporter was talking about. He said, “Mrs. > Baker! You’ve got to tell me, who is this African prince your hus- > band is entertaining at the Argonne Hotel?” > At home, Dorothy’s weekly luncheons were highly popular. > > Mary Lou, trying to explain Dorothy’s charm, said, “She was in > such demand because of her high level of interacting with people. > I’ve never seen a woman more at ease with a variety of backgrounds. > It was total camaraderie. … ‘Born to the purple royal,’ people > said of her. She wasn’t alien anywhere.” > Because her luncheons were only for women, the guests felt > free to discuss very personal concerns. One Saturday the subject > turned to men, as it often did. With some hesitation a woman > said her husband was involved with someone else. The guests were > horrified at the man’s behavior, perhaps imagining their own an- > ger and frustration if they were in similar positions. Dorothy didn’t > mention this, but spoke of her own husband. Mary Lou Ewing > was there and listened to Dorothy with amazement as did the > others. “I would be the first person to defend Frank Baker if he > decided that he was too lonely to go without companionship when > I am away. I would defend him even for his infidelity.” There > were a few muffled gasps at her audacity, followed by an even > more surprised silence when she added, “A wife should always > look to the needs of her husband.” Certainly, she was not advo- > cating breaking the vows of marriage but emphasizing the need > for compassion, even in the most trying circumstances. But it is > also true that Dorothy and Frank had a healthy, normal relation- > ship, which she neither ignored nor saw as unimportant. She never > forgot Frank, nor felt herself somehow above the physical realm. > But it was in the spiritual realm that Dorothy gloried; it was > very real and close for her. She knew her strength was tenuous at > best without a strong connection to that other world. The Lima > community needed more than she could ever give it, so she prayed > ardently and often to be strengthened. When Mary Lou had seri- > ous difficulties, Dorothy woke up to pray for her every dawn for > nineteen days and thanked Mary Lou profusely for the opportu- > nity. She thanked her, not out of some overwhelming desire to > > sacrifice her sleep, but because she knew that when she prayed > deeply for someone else, she also increased her own connection > to the power that sustained her. It was a power she believed in > totally, the effects of which she saw manifest all around her. > During the ‘30s the son of a Bahá’í couple in Lima had a ner- > vous breakdown and was hospitalized. After several weeks of un- > successful treatment, the doctors advised his parents to take him > to the state mental hospital in Toledo, Ohio. Dorothy sat in the > backseat with the young man during the drive. He talked con- > stantly, unable to stop the torrent of hysterical ideas that assaulted > his mind. Everything drove him to distraction; the stoplight ahead > spurred fears that his father would crash through it. He was posi- > tive that, if they crossed the railroad tracks, a freight train would > appear from nowhere and crush their car. The compulsive banter > did not slow down; his thin body used all the strength it had just > to withstand the unbearable strain of the eighty-mile ride to To- > ledo. When they were clear of Lima’s city limits, having exhausted > the terrifying resources outside the closed car windows, he sud- > denly realized that there, right beside him, sat another threat to > his peace of mind. He was instantly alert to the danger. For a > moment he cowered in the far corner of the backseat, staring at > his nemesis. Dorothy reached for his hand. The threat of physical > contact was too much. He began violently throwing himself against > the locked door. > Unable to force the door open, he scrambled pitifully against > it, like a bird against glass, unable to understand what hinders > flight. Vainly he groped for the handle, his head turned over his > shoulder, eyes fastened on Dorothy as if on a pursuing demon. > From the front seat his mother tried, through the tears she could > not hold back, to comfort him, to calm him, but he was oblivi- > ous to all but Dorothy. > Since his lunge for the door she had been sitting quietly, look- > > ing ahead, containing herself, directing all her heart’s energy to > God. She turned and smiled into his eyes, motioning him to move > away from the door. Slowly, in sharp staccato, one jagged move- > ment at a time, he left his crouched position and hitched himself > toward her, this time quiet. Dorothy closed her eyes and to her- > self began to repeat the short healing prayer by Bahá’u’lláh: > Thy name is my healing, O my God, and remembrance of > Thee is my remedy. Nearness to Thee is my hope, and love > for Thee is my companion. Thy mercy to me is my healing > and my succor in both this world and in the world to come. > Thou, verily, art the All-Bountiful, the All-Knowing, the > All-Wise.1 > She also used the Báb’s prayer, “Is there any Remover of difficulties > save God? Say: Praised be God! He is God! All are His servants, > and all abide by His bidding.”2 The grown man lay down and put > his head on her lap. For the rest of the two-and-a-half-hour trip, > they continued as they were, the man resting, Dorothy silently > praying. > When they arrived at the hospital he opened his door and got > out. His parents and Dorothy walked after him. Midway up the > white plank steps to the entrance he stopped, then turned to > Dorothy, “I can never thank you for what you have done for me.” > Thirty days later the doctors released him, having been unable to > find any sign of mental illness. > Dorothy’s ability to encourage the individual was, in the mem- > ory of many, without compare. Susie, her brother David’s daugh- > ter by his marriage to Lila, came for a visit when she was in her > teens. Her parents had divorced years before. David had already > remarried twice, leaving Susie to grow up with her mother in > Canaan, New Hampshire. Young, alone in a world where she felt > > Bahá’u’lláh, Bahá’í Prayers, p. 87. > The Báb, Bahá’í Prayers, p. 28 > > neither acceptable nor accepted, Susie had little confidence or hope > for her life. At the Bakers’ invitation, she ended up spending a > year in their home. > During most of Susie’s various minor escapades in Lima, Dor- > othy stayed very calm. When it finally began to look as if Susie > wasn’t benefiting at all from the family’s influence, Dorothy took > her upstairs for a serious talk. She recounted, one by one, the > many outstanding people from whom Susie, like her own chil- > dren, descended: several signers of the Declaration of Indepen- > dence and two who had signed the Constitution: Nathaniel > Gorham and Rufus King. Other ancestors included John Tilley > and John Howland, who came to America on the Mayflower; > Ralph Gorham, who, along with other Puritans, arrived in America > on the good ship Phillip and settled in New England in 1635; > and Captain John Gorham, who, as a result of his service in the > King Philip’s War, was granted the area later known as the town > of Gorham, Maine. She explained that Rufus King was a U.S. > Senator and Ambassador to Great Britain, and John King, Gover- > nor of New York. She told Susie she was also a descendant of the > Beecher family which had produced such luminaries as Harriet > Beecher Stowe.1 When Susan told Mary Lou Ewing about the > impressive list, Mary Lou was surprised; Dorothy had never men- > > Joseph Baker (1698–1763) was a common ancestor of Dorothy Beecher > Baker and of Harriet Beecher Stowe. Dorothy descended from his son Joseph, > who was her great, great, great grandfather. Harriet Beecher Stowe descended > from his son Nathaniel, who was her great grandfather. Harriet Beecher Stowe > died in 1896; Dorothy Beecher Baker was born two years later. They were also > related through Harriet Beecher Stowe’s mother, Roxana Foote Beecher, who > was a blood relative of Dorothy’s great grandmother, Harriet Barnes Beecher. > The following may be of interest to those who are curious about the bond > between Dorothy Beecher Baker and Harriet Beecher Stowe’s family. Dorothy’s > > tioned her ancestry to any of her Lima friends. But the brief re- > counting of those outstanding lives served its purpose. Dorothy > left her niece wide-eyed with a new and vivid impression of her > heritage and potential.# > Meanwhile, Dorothy’s own potential was becoming apparent. > Recognition on a broader scale was imminent. But closely fol- > lowing that acclaim came another, less welcome spin-off of her > successful work for the Faith. The mid-thirties would make her > strong enough for what was ahead or show Dorothy the depths of > her own weakness. > > # > grandfather, Joseph A. Beecher, writes of Lyman Beecher, Harriet Beecher > Stowe’s father: > Dr. Lyman Beecher was a frequent guest of [my grandfather] John > Beecher, and in the old farmhouse where [I] was born and brought up, > that great divine was generally to be found after preaching in the con- > gregational church at Wolcott [Connecticut]. > > Chapter 12 > Expanding horizons and development of skills, 1934–36 > In 1934 and 1935 Dorothy began addressing more groups out- > side of Lima. She spoke in Detroit, where her brother David was > now a portrait photographer. He had finally married Adelaide, a > girlhood friend of Dorothy’s who had loved him since childhood. > Dorothy gave a series of seven lectures in Detroit. She also spoke > in other cities including Cleveland, Milwaukee, Dayton, and Pitts- > burgh. > The desire to travel and teach didn’t come from confidence in > her own ability; Dorothy’s voice was still rather weak, and she > relied very much on notes. Although she had studied the Bahá’í > writings endlessly and tried to incorporate public speaking tech- > niques into her presentations, her lectures remained somewhat > stilted. She pushed on, unsure of her abilities, but positive that > the propagation of the Faith required the energy of every Bahá’í. > There were two basic rules she followed: strive—make the effort— > and obey. > Garreta Busey—a long-standing member of the Urbana, Illi- > nois, Bahá’í community—was a writer, editor, and a professor of > English at the University of Illinois. She and Dorothy met when > Anna Kunz invited Dorothy to come and speak in Urbana in Feb- > ruary, 1935. Dorothy’s letters of encouragement to Garreta, writ- > ten the same year, also reflected her own struggle. > Dear Garreta, > Bahá’ís often experience exhaustion, and I rather feel that > > if we did not, we should never really know our own impo- > tence, and thus we would be deprived of yearning to know > and seek use of God’s all-pervading power. For a while it is > constant exhaustion and exhilaration. Then our ships steady > themselves and concentrate on the charted journey. Besides, > it is only out of a sense of impotence that we find our fullest > destinies. … > Be tired of it all. Be so tired that you will shake the bars of > your own prisons in rage and hurl yourself upon the Be- > loved and beseech Him to lift you to your best. When we do > less we are always bored. > Come to Summer School if you can, Garreta. We all need > you. Besides, I have a strong personal desire to see you and > you really ought to gratify me just once. > Lovingly always, > Dorothy > Later > I have read this letter and it sounds wrong. You have done a > thousand “bests” and hence you are very tired—Let me ex- > plain that my statement is a psychological one, and it ap- > plies to us all. I was not finding fault, but just seeing be- > yond. Your best is an inner thing, it is spiritual passion, per- > haps. Bahá’u’lláh grant you the joy of it in great abundance. > DB. > Obedience, always a matter of sincerity and selflessness and > the most potent proof of belief, was the theme of Dorothy’s next letter. > > Garreta dear, > Thank you for sending the letter. That was careless of me. > How lovely that Mrs. M. can turn to you. She is such a > dear person, and your stability is exactly what she needs. I > do feel that if she makes a consistent effort in this new little > group, and refuses to let the world prevent her in one way or > another (as it tends always to do) she will have her answers > personally also. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said to a woman in great trouble, > “Try obeying my commands completely and you will be > amazed at the results.” And it was true. Not once but many > times I have seen the friends who gathered to study in Lima > arrive at points of sincerity that seemed to sweep everything > away that had no place in their lives. “Whoso maketh an > effort, in Our Ways will We guide him.” > As to your problem, you are now set to the task of writing > that book,1 and I believe I would pour into it every drop of > inspiration, if I were you. There will be times when God > will open doors to very beautiful direct service, and you will > achieve beautiful results. The spiritual blessing of what you > have gained ought to illumine every gift you have by nature. > To me you are a truly magnificent soul just finding its wings. > Use them joyously. God is not niggardly. He wants you to > succeed in everything. You will glorify Him with those gifts. > God bless you always. > Loving Bahá’í greetings, Ever, > Dorothy > > Since Mother Beecher’s death in August of 1932, the same sum- > mer when the Greatest Holy Leaf, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s beloved sister > > Her novel, The Windbreak, was published in 1938. > > Bahíyyih Khánum, passed on, Dorothy’s efforts had been con- > stant. Her resolution was still strong, but the exhaustion of those > intense years and her yearning to be near the Holy Shrines and > Shoghi Effendi made her decide to write to him in November of > 1935, requesting permission to make a pilgrimage to Haifa. She > had received a moderate inheritance, and, so for the first time, > felt she had enough of her own money to make the expensive > trip, but the needs of the National Fund concerned her, too. The > Guardian’s reply was prompt and direct. > > December 6th, 1935 > Dear Mrs. Baker, > It was a great pleasure for the Guardian to receive your > warm and beautiful message of November 13th, and to learn > of the encouraging and inspiring news of the steady progress > which the Faith is making in Lima. His gratitude to you is > boundless, for your share in this great and historic achieve- > ment has been quite preponderating and truly remarkable. > The Lima friends should also feel very thankful for having > in you such a devoted and talented co-worker. It is the > Guardian’s most cherished hope that through the united and > sustained efforts of you all, your community will continue > to increase in number and in devotion and loyalty to every- > thing the Cause stands for. He is ardently supplicating Bahá’- > u’lláh to confirm and enrich your labours, and enable you to > become constantly more steadfast and effective. > With regard to your wish to visit the Holy Shrines; much > as the Guardian would like to extend to you, and to dear > Mrs. Beecher,1 a most hearty welcome he feels it, neverthe- > > Dorothy’s mother, Luella Beecher. > > less, his duty to advise you to defer your visit until such time > when the existing deficit in the national fund of the Cause > in America has been satisfactorily and completely met. He > would suggest that you offer part of the expenses required > for such a trip as a contribution to the said fund. Your ex- > ample will be surely highly-meritorious in the sight of God, > and will, no doubt, encourage and sustain the friends in > their collective and individual sacrifices for the Cause in > America. > In his prayers at the Holy Shrines Shoghi Effendi will con- > tinue to remember you, as well as all our dear friends of > Lima, that you may daily grow in spiritual capacity, vigour > and devotion. He will specially pray that some way be opened > enabling you to visit Haifa in the near future, and thus fulfil > your heart’s long-cherished desire. > With his warmest Bahá’í greetings to you, to Mrs. Beecher > and the rest of the believers in your centre, > Yours in His Service, > H. Rabbani > Dear and valued co-worker: > I am deeply grateful for the many and remarkable services > you have been rendering the Cause in recent years. You truly > deserve to visit Haifa and lay your head in thanksgiving on > the sacred Threshold. I feel certain, however, that it would > be meritorious in the sight of God to devote part of the > expenses of such a pilgrimage to the National Fund, so that > the deficit may be reduced and the national interests of the > Faith be thereby promoted. I will specially pray on your be- > half at the Holy Shrines. Rest assured, > Shoghi > > The suggestion of giving her travel expenses to assist with the > costs of completing the Bahá’í House of Worship in Wilmette > had been Dorothy’s, but the realization that she would not be > able to go to Haifa was painful. Still, by the time of her reply of > January 6 to the Guardian, Dorothy had completely accepted the > idea of not yet making her pilgrimage. Eventually, the only regret > she felt over the incident was that her contribution to the build- > ing of the Mother Temple would be spent for interior structural > costs. In her touchingly romantic way, she wished her money could > have bought some of the exquisite exterior ornamentation so she > could look at the finished building and know she had contributed > to its beauty. > > January 25th, 1936 > Dear Bahá’í Friend, > On behalf of the Guardian I wish to acknowledge with > deepest thanks the receipt of your letter of the sixth instant, > and to express his profound appreciation of the spirit in which > you have accepted his suggestion regarding your visit to the > Holy Land. He is, indeed, fully aware of the sacrifice you > have made in this connection, but is confident that the ex- > ample you have set before the friends is such as to give them > courage and inspiration in their labours for the Cause. > The Guardian is fervently praying on your behalf at the > Holy Shrines, that Divine confirmations may continually > strengthen and guide you in your activities for the Faith. He > is specially entreating Bahá’u’lláh to bless your labour in the > field of teaching, and to enable you to become a leading > champion of His Cause throughout the States. > With his renewed and most loving greetings to you and > to all the friends in Lima, > Yours in His Service, > H. Rabbani > > With the assurance of my loving prayers for the realization > of your highest hopes and dearest wishes in the service of our beloved Faith, > Your true brother, > Shoghi > > 29. Dorothy at Summer School in the mid-1930s, > with a copy of Bahá’í Scriptures on her lap. > > 30. Louhelen Bahá’í School in the 1930s. > In both of his postscripts the Guardian told Dorothy to be > assured. Self-doubt and fear of her own inadequacy dissolved even > more. The Guardian, “fervently praying” on her behalf—what > choice did she have but to be confident of her future service? > Again, obedience would surely bring her closer to the safety of > God’s protection and guidance, not simply keep her from the > shrines. > The next summer at Louhelen Bahá’í School, Dorothy talked > about effort and reliance on God, encouraging the youth and adults > to struggle as the Apostles did. Like Emerson, like Tennyson and > a host of other important figures of the age who allowed the spirit > of God’s day to inspire them, Dorothy asked her students “to let > the light of God flow through you.” She believed what she said: > “All men who are alive and awake in this day are geniuses.” She > felt that, in this divinely ordained time of return and rebirth, the > power is flowing and will assist anyone who is open to it. > As ever, she placed great emphasis on guidance. Outside with > > 31. Dorothy and Frank at Louhelen. > > 32. Dorothy at a class at Louhelen, 1935. > She is sitting in the middle of the front row. > > the youth on a summer day, sitting next to a little cabin, Dorothy > said, “Divine guidance is so essential! If we could but seek it and > forget our own petty desires and wishes, all would be well, for > God knows your destiny and if we go contrary to what is planned > for us, what seems to us the best may plunge us into no end of > trouble and grief.” Then she told them about her long-ago ro- > mance with Elliott, the promising young lawyer whom she was > so tempted to marry. Dorothy explained how she had longed to > be with him but felt great doubts when she prayed about it and > even heard the name “Frank Baker” in her mind as she prayed, > though she didn’t understand why. She had already met Frank at > the boarding house, but, she told her young students, ‘At that > time marrying him would have been against all of my own de- > sires and hopes—yet God willed it and a most happy married life > has resulted. I let God tell me what to do. Though it was against > my former desires, it naturally turned out well.” > Even in those young years of her active Bahá’í life, Dorothy > > 33. Bahá’í class on the lawn at Louhelen. Dorothy is facing away > from the camera, and is wearing a dress with a “V” pattern. > > often commented that by not marrying Elliott she was “divinely > protected from going the way of the strictly ‘social’ life” and that > she was grateful not to have been lured or to have stumbled into > that use of her life’s energies. > It was not yet as obvious as it would later be how absolutely > unique Frank was in his unselfish desire that Dorothy often place > Bahá’í service above his personal needs. In theory, many people > may believe they can sacrifice precious time together to an inter- > est outside the family, but how many men, particularly in pre- > World War II America, would have actually done it? In part, it > was a measure of Frank’s love. > When Dorothy spoke to her class at Louhelen about the per- > sonal attitude necessary to be of the most service, she said, “We > cannot be casual Bahá’ís. Even if we have only a crumb to give we > > must not withhold it. We can keep only what we give.” If Bahá’ís > purposely do not give what they have, Dorothy felt it was often as > a result of “false humility,” which she described as “a humility > that prevents us from going victoriously ahead for God’s sake. We > are here to be used by God and we do not have a right to limit > that use.” Bahá’ís, she told them, must be confident of the Faith > and must be active. Doubt and inactivity, even when sporadic, > darken the outlook and retard progress. “Doubts of ours bring us > into tribulations. We are of the world when we have doubts. If I > were on the fence about being a Bahá’í, I would lose the happi- > ness and joy of life. … You can’t be inactive—a kind of rust can > form. The trouble is, we are inspired, lifted, and then drop back > again. > Speaking of the struggle demanded to keep on in their efforts > for the Faith, Dorothy showed the youth the depth of her under- > standing for the Guardian, whom she had never met. “Shoghi > Effendi has learned the grief of the prophets. He is, though, su- > premely happy. But he is solemn. Helen Bishop received one smile > from him and thought she would go all around the world on foot > to win another smile. He knows all about grief. On his youthful > shoulders rests this Cause.” > By taking the many opportunities to speak at Bahá’í schools, > study classes, and other gatherings, Dorothy eventually became a > magnificent speaker. Many say that Shoghi Effendi later called > her the greatest Bahá’í speaker of her time. She riveted audiences > around the world, inspiring love for the Faith even in people who > could not understand the language she spoke. But there was an > unseen barrier which threatened Dorothy’s success, a barrier not > yet recognized during the halcyon summers at Louhelen. > There she confidently discussed how to become a better speaker. > Annamarie Kunz Honnold, whose notes from Dorothy’s Louhelen > classes provided the above quotations, also had the vision to write > > down Dorothy’s casual remarks, made during those early years of > her service, on how to prepare and give a talk: > In order to speak on the spur of the moment, prepare a res- > ervoir beforehand and have a supply of information. In pre- > paring a speech have about five times (or so) more material > than you will actually need. Divide talk into main and sub > points. Every good talk should have a definite thought > throughout. Have stories to explain theory and make cen- > tral theme stand out. Don’t repeat except for emphasis— > not to collect thoughts. Don’t worry about rhetoric while > speaking. Trust to God to get you out. Climax is important. > When you have clinched your talk, sit down and be through. > Don’t forget human element. (Don’t make it “a cold propo- > sition.”) Make talk living breathing reality. > At home in Lima while doing housework, Dorothy would think > of questions she might be asked after a talk and consider possible > replies. For each one she constructed various answers so that > whether the individual was calling attention to himself, seriously > interested, aggressive, or mildly curious, she would have an ap- > propriate reply. Then Dorothy would pretend someone had chal- > lenged her illustration and would improve on it until her answers > became as close to foolproof as possible. > Early in her speaking career, after researching a subject, Dor- > othy would write out her entire talk, then make an outline from > that. After studying both, she summarized the first outline into a > shorter one naming only the more important major points. By > that time she understood the flow of her own thinking and could > remember it without labored notes. She believed that too many > notes would ruin a talk, so she kept them to a minimum. When > her outline was familiar enough for her to follow it easily, Dor- > > othy often practiced giving the talk in front of a mirror to train > herself to eliminate strange facial expressions. > Dorothy’s beloved friend Doris McKay once asked her how to > get over the nervousness she felt when she had to speak. Dorothy > said, “Speak to one responsive person first. Then think of them as > separate people, not a crowd. You couldn’t be nervous speaking to > one.” Almost regardless of the location or the audience, Dorothy > opened her talks by reading a prayer aloud. She kept this habit > her whole life. Even in the middle of a formal speech Dorothy > would occasionally close her eyes for a long moment to pray. Be- > fore approaching the platform she often said this prayer revealed > by Bahá’u’lláh: > Praise be to Thee, O my God! Thou hast guided me to the > horizon of Thy Manifestation and made me known through > Thy Name! > I beg of Thee, by the radiant light of Thy gifts and by the > waves of Thy beneficence, to endow my utterance with in- > spiration from the traces of Thy Supreme Pen that it may > attract the realities of all things. > Verily, Thou art the One Who is powerful in all that He > wills by His Word, the mighty, the wonderful!1 > > By 1936 Dorothy’s reputation had already started to spread > among the approximately two thousand American Bahá’ís. With > her health largely restored and her mission to serve underway, she > began to feel self-confident. Mother Beecher had said she was a > “chosen vessel,” that she would some day be a great teacher. It > now seemed possible. > Dorothy’s spiritual battles hadn’t been won easily, but having > overcome her fears and self-doubts, she was now threatened with > a new and subtle danger. > > Bahá’u’lláh, in Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Prayers and Meditations, compiled > at the request of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United > States and Canada (New York: Bahá’í Publishing Committee, 1929), p. 54. > > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote: > Whensoever ye behold a person whose entire attention is > directed toward the Cause of God; whose only aim is this, > to make the Word of God to take effect … know ye for a > certainty that this individual will be supported and reinforced > by heaven; that like unto the morning star, he will forever > gleam brightly out of the skies of eternal grace. But if he > show the slightest taint of selfish desires and self love, his > efforts will lead to nothing and he will be destroyed and left > hopeless at the last.1 > > At Louhelen, where she taught classes or met for informal disc- > ussions with the youth each summer from 1931 to 1936, Dor- > othy was totally dedicated to making “the Word of God to take > effect.” It was with a change of venue and a new and bigger audi- > ence that Dorothy’s efforts were almost doomed to “lead to noth- > ing. > In the summer of 1936, following her classes at Louhelen, > Dorothy taught for the first time at Green Acre Bahá’í School in > Eliot, Maine. After each class, the audience crowded to the front > to ask questions or just to be near the well-dressed, dignified > woman who radiated such love and was so knowledgeable. Their > adoration flowed over her as her love had washed over them when > she spoke. But, day by day, unnoticed, the praise began to sink > in. Her classes had been good; she knew that. At last she had done > something worthwhile, worthy of recognition. When Dorothy’s > listeners spoke of her beautiful analogies, her apt descriptions, > she thanked them, glad of their respect and admiration, glad to > finally count. > On the last day the meeting room was emptying after a final > round of compliments. All that week Dorothy had noticed Louis > > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, comp. Research > Department of the Universal House of Justice, trans. Committee at the Bahá’í > World Centre and Marzieh Gail (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1997), no. 357. > > Gregory in the back of the room. Louis Gregory was one of the > most outstanding speakers on the Bahá’í Faith in America. Usu- > ally he stepped out the side door of the classroom as soon as > Dorothy’s talk ended, but today Dorothy saw him walking up > toward her. She busied herself with her papers, feigning an effort > to order things, to cover the nervousness she felt. > “That was a very good course, Dorothy.” > She was ecstatic. She wondered which parts he had enjoyed > most. She wanted to ask but felt it might seem self-centered. She > tried to collect her thoughts for a proper reply, but before she > could speak, Louis Gregory continued. > “You thought so too, didn’t you?” > Dorothy was sure she misunderstood, or at least she hoped so. > “I’m sorry?” > “Remember, the moment you begin to think it is Dorothy Baker > who is accomplishing this work, that moment your service to > Bahá’u’lláh ends.” > Horrified, she wondered how he could stand there so calmly > saying those words. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was > wrong, to believe he had some hidden motive. Louis Gregory > continued quietly looking at her, not with the authority she ex- > pected from a former member of the National Spiritual Assem- > bly, not even with an expression of superior knowledge on his > serene, dark face. > It was true—just a moment before she had felt quite content— > but was it self-satisfaction or simply joy at being of service? He > smiled; she blushed at the recognition that her self-satisfaction > was not only present, but so strongly evident. Everyone must have > seen it, all the people before whom she had been proud just mo- > ments ago. > Then her embarrassment vanished—replaced by something > worse. What difference did it make whether others knew or didn’t? > The real horror was that it was true. > > Driving from Green Acre along the road toward Portsmouth, > Dorothy’s mind couldn’t leave the words of Louis Gregory. The > strength she had felt from the praise of her audience dissipated > instantly while standing there with him. The real source of > strength, as he said, is absolute reliance on God, complete aware- > ness of one’s own nothingness, which negates individual pride > but increases individual power a thousandfold. Dorothy had > worked to cleanse the mirror of her soul, but, driving through > Maine’s summer green, she knew, without a doubt, that the light > the Bahá’ís saw there was not from Dorothy Baker, but from God’s > teachings. She had only turned toward the light, not created it. > She, at her best, was a reflection, not a source. In the car, alone, > Dorothy made the decision never to give another talk without > first begging God to strike her dumb rather than let her speak > from the self. Humility, unlike the idle fancies of greatness that > rush to fill quiet moments with disquieting suggestions, was not > automatic. Louis Gregory was right; vanity had to be overcome. > It wasn’t his words that triggered Dorothy’s desire for purity of > motive. She could have ignored his comments as a reprimand she > didn’t need, had it not been for his manner, his gentleness. He > spoke to Dorothy not as one who couldn’t conceive of self, but as > an equal, as a human being who battled self every day. He once > wrote to a friend, “I know it is all the Will and Power of ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá which brought success. Every day I ask ‘Abdu’l-Bahá not to > let me forget that I am dust, and to acknowledge my absolute > nonexistence in that Court. The love of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá is the sole > magnet that renders life possible.”1 > > The great Bahá’í teacher, Martha Root’ came to Green Acre for > three days later that summer, but Dorothy was already gone. They > > Elsie Austin, Above All Barriers: The Story of Louis G. Gregory (Wilmette, Ill.: > Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1976), p. 17. > > met within a few months for the first and only time, in Geneva, > New York. “The two of them were sitting down to breakfast,” > Doris McKay later told a friend. “It was such an experience to see > Dorothy, with her wonderful radiance, and Martha with her quiet > power of faith, meet one another, like two constellations collid- > ing. It was such a wonderful experience. Dorothy was so humble > in the presence of this wonderful Martha Root.” > Humility was needed to learn what she could from the immor- > tal Martha Root. Dorothy often told people it was Louis Gregory > who kept her on course. But it was Mother Beecher who first > taught her to recognize ego. In a Tablet to Mother Beecher ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá wrote, > … when the ray returneth to the sun, it is wiped out, and > when the drop cometh to the sea, it vanisheth, and when > the true lover findeth his Beloved, he yieldeth up his soul. > Until a being setteth his foot in the plane of sacrifice, he > is bereft of every favor and grace; and this place of sacrifice > is the realm of dying to the self, that the radiance of the > living God may then shine forth.1 > That week at Green Acre, Dorothy joined forces with the truly > great ones on earth—those who, regardless of their worldly sta- > tion, whether well-known to others or known only to God, wish > above all else to be of service to humanity. > > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, nos. 36.4–5. > > Chapter 13 > Local opposition encountered and countered, 1936–37 > If Dorothy had left Green Acre without recognizing the need to > begin the long trek toward forgetfulness of self, an essential task > would have remained unstarted. The warm and comfortable wa- > ters of self-contentment could not have stayed pleasant much > longer. Tests were coming Dorothy’s way that would chill any > love not based on the purest motives. > Along with her work on national committees (the Central States > Summer School Committee and the Race Unity Committee), > Dorothy was still the mainstay of her home community. The > Guardian’s cousin, Ruhi Afnan, visited the United States that year > and stayed in Lima, with the Bakers, for several days. He spoke to > Dorothy about her Bahá’í workload, which he found dispropor- > tionately heavy. Casually she answered, “Oh, well, every commu- > nity needs a workhorse.” His immediate reply was, “But, Mrs. > Baker, Bahá’u’lláh does not desire emaciated horses.” > Supportive as Ruhi Afnan’s visit may have seemed, his attitudes > throughout the length of his visit were probably colored by the > flaws of character and motive that eventually led him to break the > Covenant. His gentle, if perfidious, suggestions and remarks could > have made Dorothy feel overworked and under-appreciated by > the local and national Bahá’í community. Had her self-image been > susceptible, had she allowed success at summer schools and pub- > lic meetings to blind her, Ruhi Afnan’s comments might have > added fuel to the smoldering fire of ego. Belief in self as the source > > of her ability could have left Dorothy open to whatever intrigues > surrounded her. But the desire for selflessness had already been > awakened. Nothing could turn her around. > In Lima a year earlier, ugly remarks about the Faith and about > Dorothy could occasionally be heard, from jealous or simply un- > informed individuals, but the sentiments were neither strongly > felt nor widely shared. Suddenly in 1937 calumny was being freely > spread from club meeting to home, from neighbor to neighbor. > It originated with a few members of the clergy, then spread into the > community. From three pulpits on one Sunday morning in that > little town, the Faith was denounced and congregations were en- > couraged to shun the Bahá’ís, to keep their distance from “these > heathen,” even to the extent of firing any Bahá’í employees. > A prominent Lima woman who became a Bahá’í, Charlene > Warner, encountered a minister who had once said from the pul- > pit, “Well, it’s perfectly obvious that only uninformed Christians > would become Bahá’ís.” But privately he told Charlene, “Mrs. > Baker is stealing all the best people from our churches.” With an > innocent look on her face Charlene said, “You mean, Reverend, > all your best people are uninformed Christians?” > An elderly schoolteacher who had been attending Bahá’í meet- > ings was told by her superiors that if she joined, her pension would > be taken away. A speaker was invited from Chicago to explain > what was loudly proclaimed, though never recognized, by any- > one outside of Lima, as “the Protestant position” on Bahá’u’lláh’s > teachings. No reference was made in this lecture to the outstand- > ing Protestant clergymen who had joined the Bahá’í Faith, to the > beauty of its teachings, or to the fulfillment of Biblical prophe- > cies.1 Instead the visiting expert warned the large audience to avoid > > For more information on this subject see Gary L. Matthews, He Cometh > With White Clouds: A Bahá’í view of Christ’s Return (Oxford: George Ronald, 1996). > > and flee from the unknown, this based presumably on the soph- > ism that anything unknown to him must, axiomatically, be bad > or he would surely know of it. > From his pulpit another minister insisted that people entered > the Bahá’í Faith only because of Dorothy’s more or less “hypnotic > spell.” He accused her of using her beauty and intellectual acu- > men to pull his flock away from the fold. Because of this incident > and its repercussions, Dorothy told Mary Lou, “I thought I had > achieved detachment, but the agony this is causing me shows I > haven’t become free of self.” She was profoundly grieved that any- > one could judge the power of Bahá’u’lláh as being her power and > that, even in such a convoluted way, her name could be used to > detract from the Faith. > For the most part the Baker children escaped the anti-Bahá’í > atmosphere in Lima, though the pressure affected them. Louise > went away to Radford School for Girls in El Paso, Texas, in 1937. > The winter before, she had rested in Florida with her grandmother, > Luella. Dorothy drove them down following an unhappy period > in Louise’s adolescence when she was anxious and ill. Her half > brother Conrad had finished his internship and advised Dorothy > and Frank to send Louise to a warm, dry climate, or there would > be a good chance of further problems—pneumonia or tubercu- > losis. Radford was in the right part of the country. The next year > Bill Baker went away to Castle Heights Military Academy in Ten- > nessee. But the reason he left Lima was directly connected with > the repression of the Bahá’ís. Dorothy and Frank felt they could > take the pressure, but did not want their teenage children ex- > posed to it anymore. > To most of the Bahá’í community Frank and Dorothy pre- > sented a calm and united front of absolute assurance, despite the > attacks on themselves and on their beliefs. Elsie Austin, then a > young Bahá’í, wrote, “Since the Bakers never discussed it, none > > of us ever knew what social and economic pressures they were > subjected to because of their convictions. … The public opposi- > tion in no way intimidated the Bakers.” > In mid-March 1937, Dorothy again wrote to the Guardian. > Her letter concerned, among other things, the possibility of pil- > grimage the following fall. She also asked for prayers that the > Bahá’ís in Lima be assisted to spread the teachings of the Faith in > spite of clerical opposition which created an unfriendly climate > in towns and villages nearby. On April 3, 1937, the month after > Shoghi Effendi married Mary Maxwell,1 his secretary answered, > Dear Mrs. Baker, > The Guardian has just received your very kind message > of March 13th as well as the enclosed communication ad- > dressed to him by the friends in Ohio centres, and has been > thrilled at the news of the remarkable progress of the teach- > ing work in these regions. His heart overflows with gratitude > at the realization of the unceasing and selfless services which > you and your dear co-workers are so ably rendering the Cause. > Your work is indeed historic and is destined to yield such > > Mary Maxwell, given the name and title Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khánum, > is the daughter of May and William Sutherland Maxwell. Her many years of > dedicated service to the Bahá’í Faith include acting as the Guard ian’s secretary, > traveling on international teaching and speaking trips, representing the Guard- > ian and the Bahá’í World Center at numerous occasions worldwide, serving as > a member of the International Bahá’í Council from 1952 to 1961, shouldering > countless other responsibilities, and writing several books, including two on > Shoghi Effendi. At the time of her father’s death, Shoghi Effendi cabled, in > part, “The mantle of Hand of Cause now falls upon the shoulders of his > distinguished daughter, Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih ….” (The Bahá’í World: A > Biennial International Record, Volume XII, 1950-1954, comp. National Spiri- > tual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States [Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Pub- > lishing Trust, 1956], p. 657). > > fruits as you yourself are now unable to adequately appreci- > ate. The Beloved is surely well-pleased with you, and will > abundantly reward you for the exemplary devotion, zeal and > capacity with which you are spreading His Word. > The Guardian wishes me to assure you of his prayers on > your behalf at the Holy Shrines, and of his supplications to > Bahá’u’lláh that He may graciously assist you, in the years to > come, to render still greater services to His Faith, and to > give you a thousandfold capacity to vindicate the truth of > His message. > He also wishes me to assure you that he will remember > each and all of the Lima friends in his prayers, that they may > be strengthened and guided through Divine confirmations, > and in such wise as to be able to withstand and counteract > the opposition of the enemies of the Faith in that centre. > In closing may I again extend to you on behalf of the > Guardian a most hearty welcome to visit the Holy Land > during next fall, together with dear Mrs. McCormick, and > to express the hope that your pilgrimage may so deeply > quicken and refresh your soul as to give you renewed vision > and an added stimulus to labour for the spread of the Mes- > sage. > With warmest Bahá’í greetings to you, to Mr. Baker and > children, > Yours in His Service, > H. Rabbani > Dear and valued co-worker: > I wish to assure you in person of a warm and hearty wel- > come. The services you have rendered are worthy of the high- > est praise and can never be forgotten. Rest assured, be happy, > and persevere. > Your true and grateful brother, > Shoghi > > Dorothy was greatly encouraged by the Guardian’s words of > praise and support for the community, and euphoric to realize > that at last her longing for pilgrimage was to be fulfilled. That > promised joy made the agony of the Lima attacks bearable. The > warm summer passed, every day moving her closer to Haifa, but > by August the increasingly active opposition of the clergy began > to seriously cloud the hope of pilgrimage. In churches and club > meetings, even in private homes, strangers and people she had > known for years encouraged one another to boycott Plezol Bak- > ery products because the company was owned by the Bakers. The > fanatical individuals who instigated the boycott acted on the hope > that the power and beauty of the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh could > be silenced by attacks on the believers. > “During the 1930s,” Allie Monroe Diehl commented, “Floyd > Spahr was the Plezol Bakery bookkeeper. He said that the Renz > Bakery truck drivers would mutilate the Plezol bread in the stores. > They would throw it on the floor, or put it on the back shelves, or > even tear the wrappers …. Again, during that time of persecu- > tion, the story was put around that Frank was pro-Nazi. Later on > the story was put around that the Bakers were communists.” > Like the followers of many religions, before and since, from > Rome to Persia, the Lima Bahá’ís suffered at the hands of indi- > viduals convinced that their particular brand of inhumanity, of > cruelty, gossip, and prejudice, was somehow sanctioned by God. > The efforts to shame and impoverish the Bakers by defaming their > characters and boycotting their business had the planned mate- > rial effect, if not the intended psychological one: Frank’s hard- > earned success with his Plezol Bread Company, and therefore the > family’s livelihood, was seriously threatened. > It was in 1937, in the midst of the turmoil and repercussions of > the Lima attacks, that Dorothy was elected to the National Spiri- > tual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada. > > Dorothy was completely shocked and confided ingenuously to > Margaret Kunz, “Why, I never expected such a thing to happen > in my life!” > Unsure that money would be available both for travel to meet- > ings of the National Assembly, to which she had recently been > elected, as well as for pilgrimage, Dorothy again turned to the > Guardian of the Faith, to her Guardian. In her letter of August > 13, 1937, she explained that her family’s financial situation was > such that she could not manage everything. She asked Shoghi > Effendi to advise whether it would be best to come on pilgrimage > and temporarily use Bahá’í general funds for teaching and admin- > istrative travel expenses, which she felt hesitant to do, or to post- > pone her pilgrimage. She received the following reply: > > September 17th, 1937 > Dear Mrs. Baker, > The Guardian has read your letter of the 13th August and > is indeed sorry to know that owing to Mr. Baker’s financial > difficulties your long-cherished pilgrimage to the Holy Land > will have to be postponed. He can quite realize that the pres- > sure of work and obligations upon you is now such that you > have, in the interest of the Cause and of your national Bahá’í > work at home, to give up for the present your personal wishes > and desires, even though they concern so meritorious an ac- > tivity as visiting the Holy Shrines. > The Guardian hopes, however, that later on you will find > the time and the means to fulfil this dear wish of your heart, > and will receive all the spiritual blessings and inspiration > which close contact with the Sacred Shrines invariably con- > fers. > In the meantime, he would urge you to concentrate on > your Bahá’í work in America, and to endeavour to contrib- > > ute as great a share as possible to the fulfillment of the Seven > Year Plan so splendidly and vigorously launched by the > American NSA. > As a newly-elected member to his national body your re- > sponsibilities and obligations are most vital and pressing, > and you should therefore arise and with unflinching resolve > and undivided attention endeavour to carry out your task as > thoroughly and effectively as your energies and resources > permit. > The Guardian is praying ardently for the confirmation of > your efforts, and wishes me to convey to you, and to Mr. > Baker as well, his hearty greetings and sincere good wishes, > Yours ever in the Cause, > H. Rabbani > Dear and valued co-worker: > I deeply regret the recent difficulties that have prevented > you from fulfilling your long-cherished wish. Your decision > I feel is wise, and I will pray that through your services, in > both the teaching and administrative fields, you will obtain > the blessing associated with a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. > When conditions permit I wish to assure you of a most hearty > welcome to visit the spots so dear to a Bahá’í heart. > Your true brother, > Shoghi > > The next spring Dorothy still was not over the pain of missing > that pilgrimage to the Holy Land. She wrote to May Maxwell on > March 7, 1938, > … Somehow I can’t bear it that I did not go to the > Guardian. It is a pretty violent realization. I wonder if I have > > been marking time this year, and some of the National affairs > with me? Will you pray for me, dear Mrs. Maxwell; not that > my unhappiness will pass, for our Beloved knows best about > that, but that SOMEHOW I MAY MAKE IT UP? The loving words > of the Guardian alone save me from a kind of desolateness; > that he would supplicate that a confirmation would come > that would be the same. … > There was no more time for hoping and waiting for a resolution > in Lima; Dorothy took action. Contacting a local minister, she > boldly asked to be allowed to speak to his congregation about the > true nature of the Bahá’í Faith. Whether cowed by her courage, > charmed by her manner, or simply fair-minded in his attitude, > the minister agreed. > Harry Jay led the Friday night Bahá’í men’s classes in Lima and > was also the newscaster at the town’s first radio station. He told > Dorothy that the time slot after his noon news had not sold. Since > the news director was sympathetic to the plight of the Bahá’ís and > Plezol sponsored the noon news, Harry and Dorothy decided to > formally ask if the Bahá’ís could use that fifteen-minute period > for the spiritual edification of the listeners. The news director > agreed that, until a paying sponsor could be found, they could > use it, so on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday the Lima Bahá’í > community had its own radio program on the only local station > in Lima. > A radio committee was formed which gathered prepared scripts > from Bahá’í communities around the country. Dorothy gave script- > reading classes so that the speakers on the program could rotate. > With the first broadcast, questions about the Faith began arriving > in the station’s mail. After the committee’s carefully prepared an- > swers were read on the air, more questions poured in, usually > unsigned. In a few weeks, when the supply of prepared scripts > > was exhausted, Dorothy began to write new scripts that tied to- > gether Christian understanding and Bahá’í principles. They are > fearless in their diplomatic proclamation of Bahá’u’lláh’s station > and authority, using stories and imagery yet retaining a dignified > language. > The subjects Dorothy wrote about included “Bible Prophecies > of Today,” “The Uses of Prayer,” “The Habit of Prayer,” and > “The Spiritual Life of Man.”1 The radio talks had been on the air > for some time when one of the most abusive ministers in Lima > was moved to a church in another town. His replacement was a > young clergyman who read passages from Bahá’u’lláh and the New > Era in one of his first sermons and followed that surprising dis- > play by saying, “I understand members of this congregation have > spoken against these ideas and the people who hold them. I just > want you to know the nobility of the beliefs you condemn.” > As a result of this clergyman’s honesty and courage, the radio > proclamation efforts, and the openness of the previously hostile > citizenry of Lima, the persecution slowly burned out, though not > before it caused the real suffering of many Bahá’ís, the near ruin > of Frank’s business, and the cancellation, yet again, of Dorothy’s > much longed for pilgrimage. > But the difficulties of the times also had positive effects, as > Shoghi Effendi had predicted in a letter written on his behalf > three years before, when the Lima attacks were nascent, “Their > [the Lima clergy’s] hatred, instead of quenching the flame of faith > in the hearts of the faithful, will serve to intensify it.” Those Bahá’ís > who were on the edge of steadfastness were forced to choose; > those who chose well found their faith rekindled and their lives > set firmly inside the protective walls of confidence in God regard- > > See Appendix II for the text of these talks. > > less of the world’s clamor. Sincere seekers surfaced and avidly pur- > sued their interest in the Faith so widely condemned among their > neighbors. > The onslaught of calumny, personal and religious, also impas- > sioned Dorothy in her defense and propagation of the Cause. > The two publications she wrote during the period, Hear, O Israel > and The Path to God,1 are both direct and fearless declarations of > the prophetic fulfillment of Bahá’u’lláh’s mission. Many of the > ideas and conclusions in The Path to God, written largely at Ruth > Moffett’s2 kitchen table, Dorothy used again in the radio pro- > grams that were so effective in challenging and awakening listen- > ers to the validity of Bahá’u’lláh’s message. > In The Path to God Dorothy asked, “What is that path …. Is > it a figment of the imagination, or has a merciful Creator given to > his creation a planned Way to Him?”3 And she concluded, “once > in about a thousand years God in His great compassion clears the > path of the accumulation of superstition and imagination that > the way may be made plain once more for the sincere seeker.”4 > At the twenty-eighth Bahá’í Convention in Wilmette that same > year, Dorothy expanded on the theme of the path to God by > discussing the most necessary provisions for its traveler: “The Most > High has always apportioned law through His Prophets accord- > ing to the need of the hour …. Every individual travels in an > orbit of spiritual law as well as physical.” Dorothy believed that > spirituality required the preference of the Will of God over one’s > own will. > If a traveler chose to wander or weave into the brambles and > ditches along the roadside, though keeping more or less to the > > See Appendix I. > Ruth Moffett was a close friend of Mother Beecher. In 1927 she and > Mother Beecher prayed that Dorothy would actively serve the Cause. > Dorothy Baker, The Path to God (New York: Bahá’í Publishing Committee, > 1937), p. 3. > ibid., p. 9. > > direction of the spiritual path, he might eventually reach his des- > tination, but only after expending a tremendous amount of en- > ergy fighting to get through the barriers he placed in his own way > by not following the laws. These spiritual and social laws, Dor- > othy believed, are a way of avoiding entanglement in activities > and thought patterns that obscure the true course. If a Bahá’í > wishes, he may amble casually, ignoring the obvious signs that he > is wandering from the path, and possibly losing sight of it. But if > he wishes to reach his spiritual destination, rather than spend days > and years fighting spiritual battles that could have been avoided, > Bahá’u’lláh makes it clear what he must do. “In all these journeys > the traveler must stray not the breadth of a hair from the ‘Law,’ > for this is indeed the secret of the ‘Path’ …”1 > Even a few years before, in the mid-1930s, Dorothy had longed > to know more about the laws of Bahá’u’lláh. At that time, The > Kitáb-i-Aqdas, or Most Holy Book, the primary repository of > Bahá’í laws, had not been published. She spoke with Viva Lismore > about her desire to read an unofficial translation of the book. > Viva relates: > How anxious she was in those early days to know something > about the Kitáb-i-Aqdas. She asked (Louis Gregory), I think, > a member of the National Spiritual Assembly of America, > to lend her the book for a few days which he did on the > condition that Dorothy would not comment on it with any- > one! After she had read the book, she could not raise her > head for a week, so impressed was she at the severity of the > Laws! > Her desire to mold herself according to God’s will seemed to > increase with every experience of obedience, the confirmations of > which can only be known by those who have obeyed. Time and > > Bahá’u’lláh, The Seven Valleys and The Four Valleys, trans. Marzieh Gail and > Ali-Kuli Khan, new ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1991), pp. 39–40. > > again she chose this path of loyalty: to the laws of Bahá’u’lláh, to > the Guardian’s suggestions or even his hopes, and to her own soul’s > promptings over personal will and desire. Obedience is a theme > expressed repeatedly in her life, her writings, and her talks, as she > said at Louhelen, “Liberty is to be sovereign over life with law; > one obtains power through discipline.” > And so she shared another secret, another key to the under- > standing that catapulted her efforts into the realm of true service: > obedience. Every traveler on the path to God must, Bahá’u’lláh > asserts, “cling to the robe of obedience to the commandments, > and hold fast to the cord of shunning all forbidden things, that he > may be nourished from the cup of the Law and informed of the > mysteries of Truth.”1 > > ibid., p. 40. > > Chapter 14 > NSA member and public speaker, 1937–39 > Dorothy did not meet the challenges of obedience and the conse- > quent opportunities for spiritual understanding in the vacuum of > a quiet life apart. Having lived in the vortex of local turmoil, she > went on, in 1937, to serve on the National Spiritual Assembly. At > her first Assembly meeting, “the clash of differing opinions” lit > more than the spark of truth. Tempers flared; harsh words crack- > led. Still radiant, seemingly ingenuous, Dorothy said to the seven > men and one woman who sat around the table with her, “I think > we should have prayers.”1 Stony silence. The man next to her > said, “That is just like a woman!”2 But she persisted, her outward > gentleness supported by an inner conviction. Eventually Dorothy > and the man who chided her became good friends, but not until > their obvious differences had been overcome and mutual respect > established. > When Dorothy first became a member of the Assembly, meet- > ing breaks were a little like a men’s club with the jokes and chafing > that might be expected. Dorothy made a special effort to expand > her repertoire of funny stories to tell during breaks, and at the > same time keeping the spirit of “the trustees of the Merciful.” > Dorothy fought for a balance. She didn’t want to control the As- > sembly meetings, but neither did she want others to control them. > She would not sit quietly by while her comments were overrid- > den or her opinions ignored. Dorothy did not accept this injustice > > Quoted in Mary Lou Ewing, “Memories of Dorothy Baker,” p. 5. > ibid. > > to herself, as she would not have allowed it to happen unchecked to another. > > 1937 was the opening of the Guardian’s first Seven Year Plan. As > a newly elected member Dorothy took the Assembly’s obligation > to make sure the plan was put into effect very seriously. When- > ever she drove to Assembly meetings she always said the Tablet of > Aḥmad nine times as she drove, not picking up any hitchhikers > until she finished. In the late 1930s, when the National Assembly > met in Wilmette, Dorothy often stayed with Dr. Edris Rice-Wray. > Every day, no matter how long the meeting had gone on the night > before, Edris noticed that Dorothy got up early enough to say her > Long Obligatory Prayer and the Tablet of Aḥmad nine times. > Her motivation wasn’t piety, but a desperate longing for unity > and true guidance in the Assembly meeting. Dorothy was con- > vinced of the necessity of prayer and commented to Edris Rice- > Wray, “I pray them through the NSA meetings.”1 > Doris McKay, often a roommate of Dorothy’s at Bahá’í gather- > ings, would sometimes wake up and see her friend rise to say her > morning prayers. Doris wrote in her diary: > The chime of an alarm clock. The silvery pre-dawn light in > the room and Dorothy rising from her bed to say the Long > Obligatory Prayer, sometimes childishly rubbing the sleep > from her eyes. Then the dignified and graceful movements > like the classic postures of a religious dance. She became the > Prayer. Every changing mood of the prayer was reflected in > her being: the awed adoration, the bowed humility, the an- > guished moments of contrition, the final meditative calm. > The next year, Dorothy was again elected to the Assembly. New > difficulties arose at the 1938 convention and it was, as Dorothy > > Edris Rice-Wray, “Memories of Dorothy Beecher Baker,” p. 2, in Puebla, > Mexico, February 27, 1976 (unpublished). > > wrote the Guardian, “a storm center.” He responded through his > secretary on June 17th. > Dear Mrs. Baker: > Your most welcome message of the 19th May addressed > to our beloved Guardian has duly reached him, and he has > noted with keenest interest your impressions of this year’s > Annual Convention. > Although, as you rightly describe, that meeting became > “a storm center” and was attended by certain regrettable de- > velopments, yet the culminating effect of these experiences, > he is glad to realize, has been to deepen in the delegates and > the attendants the consciousness of their unity, and of their > basic and common loyalty to the Administrative Order. > Now that the delegates have dispersed, and sufficient time > has elapsed to allow them to ponder, with care and without > prejudice, on the outstanding features of the Convention > hey will surely realize that its main significance infinitely > transcends those petty incidents and storms which have in- > evitably accompanied some of its proceedings, and should > rather be found in the spiritual forces it so powerfully awak- > ened in the hearts of the attendants. > The Guardian feels confident that the forces that have > been released are such as to provide the newly-elected NSA > with all the energy and guidance it requires for the success- > ful discharge of its manifold obligations throughout the > course of this year. > It is for the members, each and all, to prove themselves > worthy of such divine confirmations by endeavoring to carry > out their work with such unity and determination and with > such a spirit of utter consecration to the Cause as to insure > the success of all their plans, both in connection with the > > Temple work and the expansion of the Teaching force > throughout Northern and Southern America. > The Guardian will specially remember you in his prayers, > that in the coming year you may be assisted in rendering the > Faith services that will even surpass, by their range and char- > acter, those which you were privileged to render during last > year as member of the NSA. > Yours in His Service, > H. Rabbani > Dear and prized co-worker: > Your welcome and illuminating report cheered and heart- > ened me. The assurances you gave, the analysis you made, > the hopes you expressed, are all deeply valued by me. I too > cherish great and bright hopes for the contributions you will > make to the deliberations, decisions and accomplishments > of the National Assembly in this coming year. The noble > qualities you possess are assets that I admire and for which I > feel thankful. Persevere and be confident. > Your true and grateful brother, > Shoghi > The National Spiritual Assembly sometimes met in different > cities in order to facilitate the holding of meetings for the Bahá’ís > there and for the public. Dorothy usually took the train, but some- > times drove as she loved driving, particularly driving fast. She > always traveled in one of the big, heavy cars Frank bought her, a > Buick or Cadillac or Oldsmobile, and stopped along the way to > give talks in various towns she passed through. > During the late thirties Dorothy spoke in New York City and > throughout New York state: in Geneva, Jamestown, Buffalo, Roch- > ester, Syracuse, Albany, and Binghamton, as well as in Canada: > > Quebec, Ontario, New Brunswick and British Columbia. She also > gave lectures and firesides in Washington, Oregon, California, > New Mexico, Texas, Arizona, Missouri, Kansas, Illinois, Wiscon- > sin, Michigan, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Washington > DC, Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Connecticut, Maine, > and Massachusetts, and continued her regular travel teaching trips > throughout Ohio. > Her subjects were varied, among them “The Role of Prayer > and Consultation in the Regeneration of Society,” “Race Unity,” > and “The World Tomorrow.” One newspaper review commented, > “Mrs. Baker has correlated the spiritual and social needs of a new > world order and given her hearers not only faith and courage but > even joy in the future of our evolving society.” Often the newspa- > per announcements concentrated, at least briefly, on Dorothy as > a “member of the famous Beecher family” and on her approach > “as a student of life—its purpose, stages, problem and goal— > rather than as a specialist in any one branch of life.”1 > It was late spring of 1939, during this very busy period of > Dorothy’s teaching activities, that she welcomed her son home > from his first year at Castle Heights Military Academy. The school > specialized in physical fitness. When Bill went there, at fourteen, > he was six feet two inches tall and rather plump. He came home > at least forty pounds lighter and in excellent shape. Over the Christ- > mas holidays his older sister had been so struck by the new Bill > she offered to get him dates with some of her friends for the Christ- > mas dances. Bill was very hesitant, but with some encouragement > from his parents finally agreed. After the first party Louise did not > need to worry about finding dates for her little brother. In his > dress uniform from Castle Heights, the tall, dark-haired young > man who had the same clean angular features as his mother was > the center of attention. > That spring he still seemed to be in excellent physical shape > > Buffalo newspaper, April 19, 1936. > > 34. Bill and Conrad Baker, circa 1936. > > though he developed a high fever shortly after coming home. He > had what was presumed to be a kidney infection. From June > through October, Bill was in bed. Often he would vomit every- > thing he ate for a week at a time and there were long periods of > intravenous feeding; his weight dropped below one hundred and > forty pounds. Dorothy and Frank were very concerned and of > course didn’t send him back to school. When Bill felt a little bet- > ter in late October he began trying to get out of bed more often, > only to find himself even sicker by November and no better at > Christmas. Finally his condition was properly diagnosed as a stric- > ture in a tube of the urinary system. An operation was performed > and Bill at last began to recover. > During this entire period Dorothy managed to be his chief > succorer and supporter. > It is true that Mother was away much and for many years, > but when I was sick, the moments with people that I re- > member most clearly were with Mother. She came in and > > prayed daily when she was home …. She had healing > prayers for me and we talked about the Writings. She gave > me a bed bath every day. > In addition, on December 27, 1937, the Bakers’ first grandchild > was born to Conrad and Marjorie: Dwight Conrad Baker. Tech- > nically, Dorothy was a step-grandparent, but she adored this new > addition to family life. And the Bakers’ family life was full, with > the suffering and the joy ties of love can bring. > This balance between family and the outside world, between > spiritual concepts and practical realities, was an integral part of > who Dorothy was. A professional speaker, who lived only to be a > success at the podium, could not have brought to an audience the > depth of understanding and strength of conviction which distin- > guished her. > One weekend Dorothy was due in Chicago for a meeting of > the National Spiritual Assembly. Several weeks before, two new > Bahá’ís from Glenview, Illinois, Elizabeth and John McHenry, > wrote to ask if she could speak at a public meeting while she was > in the area. Dorothy agreed to the time and topic they suggested. > At the railroad station the McHenrys met her, excited that af- > ter their careful preparation they now had the honor of driving > Dorothy Baker to the meeting. In the car, chatting together, Dor- > othy, obviously very relaxed, suddenly asked John, “Now, what > was the subject for tonight?” > The McHenrys were dumbfounded. They had tried to make it > so clear in their letter, and had assumed Dorothy would have a > talk all planned around the subject they requested. That she had > ignored, or at least forgotten their request, and obviously not even > prepared, crushed them. A lugubrious gloom sank over their spir- > its as they drove the last few miles to the old converted barn where > the meeting was scheduled to be held. > > Standing in front of the crowd Dorothy read her prayer, put > aside the book, and with no notes gave what seemed to the > McHenrys one of the finest and most appropriate talks they had > ever heard. Although Dorothy had not specifically planned her > program for that evening, she was more than prepared to give the > talk. By 1939, having given dozens of thoroughly researched pub- > lic lectures and summer school courses, she simply no longer found > it necessary to gather specific information for each individual talk. > On the way to the McHenrys’ house afterward, where Dor- > othy was spending the night, she told them about ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s > way of giving a talk, how He did not decide what to say until He > looked into the faces of His audience. They recalled her words, > “It has taken me a long time to become deepened enough and > knowledgeable enough in the Faith to be able to use His method, > even to have the confidence to try it, but now I do, without hesi- > tation or fear.” > When Dorothy spoke publicly in earlier years she often sounded > a bit hesitant and seemed rather shy, relying on thorough notes to > support her through the ordeal of speaking before an audience. > But by 1939, with her well-grounded understanding and experi- > ence, the situation was vastly altered. Still, Dorothy usually re- > viewed her main points and the stories she would tell, just before > leaving to give a talk. In that way she had a strong infrastructure > on which guidance and the needs of the audience could build. > The assurance Dorothy felt before a group went beyond any > self-image. The self melted back while the light of inspiration > shone from a source far stronger; she was opening a channel and > allowing something greater to flow through her. > “A servant is drawn unto Me in prayer until I answer him; > and when I have answered him, I become the ear wherewith > he heareth ….” For thus the Master of the house hath > > appeared within His home, and all the pillars of the dwell- > ing are ashine with His light. And the action and effect of > the light are from the Light-Giver; so it is that all move > through Him and arise by His will.1 > > Gayle Woolson traveled with Dorothy in several countries on > Bahá’í speaking trips. She was a member of the first National > Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of South America and was named > a Knight of Bahá’u’lláh when she pioneered to the Galapagos Is- > lands. Touched by the clarity and unworldly joy of hearing a so- > prano sing at a Haifa performance of Handel’s Messiah years later, > Gayle was instantly taken back to the feelings she associated with > hearing Dorothy Baker speak. The poise, the sweetness of the > voice, the humbly assured dignity of the singer made Gayle feel > as if Dorothy were speaking. “Her talks were on a level with that > music …. It seemed like a gift from God.” > Although Dorothy developed and used the gift of eloquence, > she did not think it was by any means the contribution most > needed by the Bahá’í world. At times Dorothy said she felt almost > ashamed that so much attention was focused on her because, “I > can stand up and talk.” Going over some galley proofs of a com- > pilation of the Writings, she told Louise, “This,” touching the > sheets she had been working on, “is far more important than talks > and speeches, and will have a greater effect. People think a com- > pilation is a simple thing, but it takes weeks of effort. And no one > ever hears about who worked on it.” > The constant focus of attention on her when she was speaking > had become burdensome for Dorothy. During her talks she made > a point of looking from face to face, from one part of the room to > another, breaking the visual connection with gaze and gesture > but she was sometimes uneasy with the abundant recognition and > admiration, and suffered with the consequences, occasionally > > Bahá’u’lláh, Seven Valleys, p. 22. > > because of the jealousy it inspired in certain individuals, but at > times directly from the effects of that adulation. > > On one trip to an Assembly meeting in the late 1930s, Dorothy, > having sent press releases ahead, got off her train to give a lecture > in one city. In the audience sat a man who, like others in the past, > became enamored with her presentation of the Cause. Pushing > against the exiting audience, he succeeded in reaching Dorothy > before she had even gathered her things and turned from the lec- > tern. The questions he asked she answered carefully, though she > had heard them many times before; they were the standard in- > quiries of a person mildly curious about spiritual truths, but in- > tensely interested in exposing his own opinions for her approval. > In his case the opinions were rather interesting so she didn’t mind > that he seemed anxious to find ways to keep her there. The one or > two others who made their way up to her seemed only to want to > listen in shy silence. His questions and comments at least gave > her opportunity to speak on until the quiet listeners gathered > confidence to ask their own questions. They never did, but finally > with smiles and handshakes were able to express their thanks, > then took their leave and Dorothy was left alone with the man. > Feeling the conversation had no further purpose, Dorothy > brought their talk to a close. Claiming a need to get back to the > train station, she excused herself. He offered a ride; she refused— > friendly, calm, but definite. > At the station Dorothy sat on one of the platform benches, her > brown overnight case next to her. The distraction of the cab ride > and the noisy line at the ticket box behind her, she let her mind > drift back to the talk, then to her questioner. Uneasy, almost guilty > for not having been more responsive to the man, Dorothy won- > dered how she could have handled the situation better, by going > out for a cup of coffee? There wasn’t time for that. Her inclina- > > tion to escape his overly attentive attitude overpowered what she > now felt might have been the logical choice: to simply sit down in > the empty meeting room and finish discussing his questions. But > there was a quality about the fellow that told her not to waste her > time; so she had left. Probably for the best. > Hal Starke,1 that was the name he gave. She shifted on her > bench, settling down again, back now turned to the smoking en- > gine of the training churning slowly past. Eyes closed, Dorothy > placed thumb and middle finger on the bridge of her nose to ease > the reverberation of the aching screech—metal on metal—as the > train pulled itself to a full stop. > Opening her eyes, she watched as people tumbled down the > metal steps at the car’s exits. Her memories of that afternoon > vanished, lost in the faces and imagined lives of the people pass- > ing by. She let her head turn to watch the last group disappear > into the station, then looked back as a few stragglers descended > the small metal steps that dropped from the passenger car, the > last step hanging in mid-air above the walkway. But her attention > for no apparent reason was drawn back to the station door. What > was it she had seen? Nothing she could recall but something, > nonetheless. Just turning away, she hesitated and looked again > toward the open doorway and the glaring reflection of the plate- > glass window next to it. There, hands to the glass, peering out, > was a face that caught her. For a few seconds her eyes didn’t move > from the unknown but recognized face; it turned slightly toward > her. Before she consciously knew who it was Dorothy heard her > own voice say, “Starke.” She waited; if she stood now and looked > around for the right passenger car, he would be sure to recognize > her even if he’d missed her the first time. A plan: she would stand > > A pseudonym. > > up and just walk along the track toward the other end of the > train. No matter if it was the direction of the pullman cars or not. > Once inside, unseen, she would find her proper car and seat. > Reaching for the handle of her overnight case and pulling it closer > to her on the seat, Dorothy glanced down to gather up purse and > coat, careful not to turn her face again toward the station win- > dow. > Then, inside her sphere of concentrated attention, just above > her bowed head, someone spoke. > “Dorothy, I’ve caught you before you left.” > And caught she was. “Just barely, really. I’ve got to go to my > train.” > Hal Starke pulled the overnight bag from the seat and walked > beside her. She thought of running, but it seemed ridiculous to > try to escape her own valise and the perfectly civilized man who > carried it. When they were to the steps he would no doubt hand > it to her, say goodbye and she would be saved the indignity of > running away from nothing. Still, she felt herself walking faster > toward the closest passenger door. Stepping up, she started to turn, > but people pushed up from behind. Forced inside the car, Dor- > othy moved from the aisle to the small space in front of a vacant > seat. Her heels made her just a bit too tall to stand comfortably > under the luggage rack above her head. Bent slightly at the waist, > her left hand supporting her on the headrest of the seat in front, > she waited, numbly, for her bag. > A flashing smile crossed his face as he caught sight of her there. > Dorothy raised a hand and smiled, then cursed herself for her > automated good manners. Starke stopped by her seat; people > needed to get by, but he obviously wasn’t going to just hand her > the case and move on. He stood, squared toward Dorothy, half > his smile still left over. Again propriety got the best of her, thoughts > > of anxious travellers stacking up behind him and she moved in > toward the window. Putting the case in the luggage rack over- > head, he sat next to her in the aisle seat. > “Excellent talk—really fine.” > “Thank you.” > “I guess this must be something of a surprise—I just couldn’t > let you get away so fast.” > “Did you have more questions?” > “Yes, a lot more.” > “I’ll be sure to mail you a book the moment I’m back in Lima, > that should clear up any gray areas.” > “Thank you, Dorothy.” > The way he said her name, the sincerity of his thanks, made > her want to change the subject. But to what? They were only > talking about a book, a Bahá’í book at that. The whistle sounded, > two sharp cries. “Good,” she thought, “he’ll leave.” > “Well, Mr. Starke, thanks for stopping off to say goodbye and > for carrying my case.” > “You are so very welcome. It’s my pleasure.” > “I think you’d better get off now. We’ll be pulling out any sec- > ond.” > “To where, Dorothy?” > “Albuquerque.” > “Sounds great.” > He pushed himself deeper into the aisle seat, the smooth knobs > of green velvet upholstery squeaking as he moved. With the slow > outlet of breath, his head leaned back against the doily-covered > seat back. > Dorothy stared at the conservative, average-looking man next > to her, a man with anything but average ideas. His eyes were closed. > The train began to rumble until finally here was a lurch and for- > > ward movement. About to speak, Dorothy instead forced herself > to sit back and look out her window rather than at Starke. “Not > yet,” she thought, then quietly whispered, “Not yet.” > The book in her purse, The Art of Thinking, gave Dorothy some- > thing to concentrate on. A quarter hour later Hal Starke stretched > his arms straight out in front of him and muffled a yawn. The > conductor was standing over them, having already exchanged a > few words with Dorothy and punched her stiff manila ticket. > It had disappeared into a metal box hanging from the worn > leather belt at the man’s waist; but Starke didn’t need a cue. “One, > to Albuquerque, please.” While Dorothy stared intently at her > book, Starke paid for his ticket. > The conductor moved on to the seat in front of them, Hal > Starke turned to her. > “Do you care to smoke?” > “No thanks, but go ahead.” > Starke flicked his own ashtray open and dropped in the still > burning match. > “I should have known you wouldn’t smoke, someone so pure.” > “I just don’t happen to smoke.” > “So you’re married, and have children, too?” > “Yes, what about you, Mr. Starke?” > “I used to think I could never consider marriage again, but I’m > surprising myself.” > Dorothy couldn’t believe his intentions were what it all too > clearly seemed. > “And why is that?” > Hal Starke took a long drag on his cigarette and reached over > her to tap it lightly on the ashtray under the window. His forearm > barely brushed the folds of her skirt. Dorothy stiffened. He sat > back and stared down at the car’s aisle. > > “So you know, too. I had heard of soul mates, but I never > believed it. Now I know why my marriage didn’t work out.” > Dorothy listened, but didn’t speak. > “It’s because I was supposed to meet you. Now I have.” > Resolutely he put out the cigarette in his own ashtray as Dor- > othy contemplated the now indisputable fact that this man was > way over the line and fully intended to try to pull her over it too. > “Mr. Starke, you are confusing your attraction to spiritual truth > and recognition of the Day in which you and I were fortunate > enough to be born with an ephemeral, personal attraction.” > He faced her in his seat and in his now plaintive voice said, > “Don’t assume I’m wrong until you’ve heard me out. True soul > mates meet once in a thousand years. Yes, I love the truths of the > Bahá’í Faith, but I love you, too.” > “If you do love these Teachings, you won’t allow your personal > desires to trick you into action that is not in keeping with them. > In the first place, you know I’m married.” > “Your marriage shouldn’t stop you. How could you ever stay > with him when you know I’m here? This is real, Dorothy.” > He clutched her hand. Dorothy stood up. > “I’m going to the powder room. We have nothing to talk about. > If you are not out of this seat when I come back, I’ll call the > conductor.” > She pushed by him and was gone. > When she left the powder room Dorothy walked into the back > of her car. From that vantage point she could see that the two > seats under her brown case were empty. Looking straight ahead in > case he was sitting nearby, waiting to catch her glance, Dorothy > went back to her seat, put her suitcase in the spot vacated by Hal > Starke and sat down. > The train stopped in a small town. No one in her car got off. > > She didn’t raise her eyes from her book. The next stop was an- > nounced just a few minutes later. As the train slowed she heard > the voice she’d been bracing herself against. > “Dorothy, I went too fast, let me at least try again.” > Staring at her book, Dorothy was dumb in response to his plea. > “Let me sit down. If nothing else we could at least talk about > our real destiny together, even if you won’t let it come true. I > can’t just meet you and let you slide out of my life so quickly > when real joy together is so close.” > Through tightened jaws, hardly a muscle moving in her face, > Dorothy said, “You’d better leave this train.” > “I am … I will. I just came to say a real goodbye and to tell > you, to make you know, I’m sincere. I love you, you Dorothy the > person, not just the ideas and words you spoke of. I knew it from > the moment you read that prayer, before you even looked into > the audience and at me.” > Resolutely she still stared down. He couldn’t see the tears that > filled her eyes; if he had he would have mistaken them as meant > for him—for them. She did not cry for that, nor did her tears fall > out of anger at his audacity. A romantic approach by a man was > not that unusual. She cried for the mixed-up emotions, the tun- > nel vision of people who live so much inside their own desires, > they have no chance of recognizing anything greater. His search > was ended by a delusion as to its real object; the longing he felt > toward new spiritual understanding was misconstrued so easily in > his human heart as passion for an unknown woman. The entire > hope of the human race lay in the individual’s ability to perceive > the truth, and though he felt its presence, he could not identify > its source. Again he spoke. > “When you see me standing outside that window, it’s the last > time you’ll ever see me.” > > He made his exit. From the edge of her view, she saw him > standing plaintively on the platform, waiting for some sign that > he should rush back onto the train, and into the arms of his “soul > mate.” She didn’t move a muscle. After an excruciatingly long > stop the train finally pulled forward and Dorothy, sick with sad- > ness for the Starkes of the world, let her tears fall freely. > > From Lima to Albuquerque, from Cincinnati to Ft. Lauderdale > and later across the far side of the globe, whether in Lisbon or > New Delhi, Dorothy’s spirit and depth of knowledge were en- > hanced by her bearing, her relaxed dignity and even by her clothes > and grooming. A favorite passage, quoted often during her trav- > els, declares that “This is a matchless Day. Matchless must, like- > wise, be the tongue that celebrateth the praise of the Desire of all > nations, and matchless the deed that aspireth to be acceptable in > His sight.”1 Dorothy took this to mean that nothing, certainly > not material things, should be allowed to detract from the maj- > esty of the Day in which she lived. > Dorothy believed that in the realm of spiritual matters, Bahá’ís > should try to make themselves as perfect as possible, but that this > excellence should also be reflected, within reason, in the material > realm. Margaret Kunz Ruhe was fascinated by Dorothy’s approach. > “She was always an elegant creature and while clothing was cer- > tainly not her main preoccupation,” she wrote, “Dorothy had a > flair for dress and was very outspoken about it. She said that we, > as Bahá’ís, dress for Bahá’u’lláh so we must put our best foot for- > ward and must look elegant when the occasion requires elegance.” > Before a talk Dorothy went to a great deal of trouble to be sure > that the costume she wore was exactly right. Once in Wilmette, > before a program she was participating in, she realized the match- > ing belt to the dress she planned to wear was missing. She drove > > Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, trans. Shoghi Effendi, > 1st ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1983), p. 39. > > 35. The National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United > States and Canada, May 1938. Back row, left to right: George > Latimer, Roy Wilhelm, Horace Holley, Leroy Ioas, Siegfried > Schopflocher. Front row, left to right: Allen McDaniel, Dorothy > Baker, Amelia Collins, Harlan Ober. > > to Chicago to find a proper replacement. If her hair wasn’t clean > and curled, Dorothy would spend the morning before a talk at > the beauty salon, having her hair and fingernails done. > Later in life, when traveling and lecturing became so constant > that she couldn’t always find time to go to a salon, Dorothy sent a > sample of her hair to a hairpiece weaver and had four small combs > made, each with a cluster of curls. The first order came back a > shade too light, but the second set matched. From then on, if she > couldn’t have her hair done professionally before an important > > Bahá’í gathering, Dorothy would pull it back in soft waves, slip > the combs in on either side and often wear a hat to cover the part > she hadn’t properly coiffed. It was her responsibility, she felt, not > to detract from the perfection of the Faith by letting herself look > disheveled or even a fraction less than her most attractive. > Though Dorothy was always systematic and thorough in her > personal cleanliness, sometimes to the point of exactitude, when > she wasn’t in the public eye she was relaxed about the style of her > clothes, favoring old, comfortable standbys. Still, even at home, > she always stood very straight and never slumped. Once Dorothy > told Mary Lou, who only weighed ninety-six pounds when they > met, “Now straighten up. You can’t conquer souls for Bahá’u’lláh > if your shoulders are slouched.” > Many people have said that Dorothy was an outstandingly beau- > tiful woman, others that she had a great presence that lent to her > features more than nature provided. As man has recognized for > centuries, de gustibus non est disputandum. This is as true in per- > ception of human beauty as in any other matter: there is no dis- > puting about tastes. Regardless of arguments on either side, Dor- > othy did not find herself particularly special looking, but didn’t > allow her appraisal of her shortcomings to keep her from making > every effort to be as attractive as possible. She was who she was, > with the attributes she had and without those she did not possess. > In part this is what made her so spectacularly appealing; she ac- > cepted herself as she was without pretending some higher per- > sona and also without being a living apology for her insufficiencies. > God provided her with the wherewithal to serve humanity not in > every way, but in her own way. So she calmly approached the > myriad tasks ahead with faith and confidence, fully putting to use > her best qualities. > Though God is unknowable, we have faith in Him. We are > made in His image so there is something in each of us that is > > unknowable: not obvious to the eye or even to the mind, but > worthy of faith. It is this secret part of ourselves, our potential, > which cannot be held in the hand and examined or computed to > figure maximum output. > This confidence in God, and therefore in self, let Dorothy rise > to each occasion, not allowing herself to be hurried or intimi- > dated, trusting in her mind and spiritual ability, her soul turned > squarely toward her Creator. As she told her youth class at Lou- > helen, early in her speaking career, “We must all learn to walk > slowly though life; hear the undertones. You reflect the world when > you are feverish.” > In the late 1930s, at a talk at the YMCA in Toledo, Ohio, a > heckler stood up mid-sentence in Dorothy’s talk. From his spot at > the front of the meeting room, he yelled aggressively, “Madam, > just what are the tenets of your faith?” Without a second’s hesita- > tion Dorothy answered with the noon prayer, “I bear witness, O > my God, that Thou has created me to know Thee and to worship > Thee. I testify, at this moment, to my powerlessness and to Thy > might, to my poverty and to Thy wealth. There is none other > God but Thee, the Help in Peril, the Self-Subsisting.”1 She paused > a moment, eyes fixed on the questioner, then, not coldly but se- > riously challenging, she said, “And now, young man, what are the > tenets of your faith?” Not even a whimper sounded from him as > he sank into his chair: Dorothy went on to finish her talk. > After she gave a talk in Houston, a non-Bahá’í businessman > said, “I would give anything in the world to be like Mrs. Baker.” > When asked how she achieved her calm strength and radiant > confidence, Dorothy invariably answered that only prayer could > bring security. Even before entering a room for a casual talk with > friends she used the Greatest Name. Love for God and love for > her fellow creatures—not personality, charm, power, or posi- > tion—love was her sustainer and her gift to others. Her love for > Bahá’u’lláh was reflected in her love for each person. > > Bahá’u’lláh, in Bahá’í Prayers: A Selection of Prayers Revealed by Bahá’u’lláh, the Báb, and ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá, new ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1991), p. 4. > > In the spring of 1939, for the third time in the decade, the fourth > time including her 1920 request to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Dorothy wrote > for permission to make her pilgrimage. Shoghi Effendi’s secretary > replied on July 2: > Dear Bahá’í Sister, > The Guardian has received your most welcome message > dated May 31st, and noted with deepest satisfaction the very > constructive work accomplished by the Nat. Child Educa- > tion Committee during this past year. The various steps it > has taken, and which you had outlined in your letter, with > the view of providing Bahá’í children with the maximum of > Bahá’í educational and character training available are in- > deed excellent and most effective, and it is hoped that in the > faithful and thorough application of these methods and > policies your Committee will receive the wholehearted co- > operation and unremitting assistance of all Bahá’í parents, > as well as the encouragement and guidance of the NSA. The > Guardian attaches the highest value to your Committee’s > work, and will earnestly pray that each one of its members > may be guided in rendering his or her maximum of contri- > bution to the furtherance and extension of the field of its > activities. He would urge you and your dear co-workers to > persevere in your task, and wishes me to convey to you all > the expression of his abiding appreciation of your valued > services in this vital field of Bahá’í service. > Regarding your request for permission to visit the Holy > Shrines during next fall; Shoghi Effendi thoroughly appre- > ciates the desire you have expressed to undertake this pil- > grimage, and your eager wish to see him, and discuss with > him personally various important issues affecting the Cause. > He too certainly longs to meet you, but feels that in view of > the continued disturbed condition in the Holy Land, and > > the possibility of further and more widespread agitations in > the near future your coming would be inadvisable. As soon > as the situation in the country returns to normal you would > be most welcome to undertake this long and deeply-cher- > ished pilgrimage. > With renewed assurances of his prayers for the steady ex- > tension of the field of your activities on behalf of the Cause, > and for your own spiritual advancement and material wel- > fare and protection. > Yours very sincerely, > H. Rabbani > Dear and valued co-worker: > I was so pleased to hear from you and to learn that you > are as ever contributing your outstanding share, in the teach- > ing and administrative spheres, to the onward march and > the steady consolidation of our beloved Faith. I deplore the > unhappy and tragic circumstances that interfere with your > projected pilgrimage to Haifa, for I too would rejoice at > meeting you and at discussing the various matters that affect > the interests of our glorious Faith. Do not feel disheartened, > however, for these clouds will lift and your dear hopes will > be realized. > Your true and grateful brother, > Shoghi > > The decade of the thirties almost ended, the suffering of nu- > merous tests culminating in a final impossible plea for pilgrim- > age, Dorothy determinedly followed Shoghi Effendi’s dear guid- > ance and did not feel disheartened, but began, instead, the most > productive phase of her life. > > Chapter 15 > Travel teaching in North America, 1940–41 > Two things about Dorothy’s life in the early 1940s stand out: what > she achieved and how she went about it. The list of cities and > towns where she spoke during these years dwarfs her previous > travel teaching efforts. On average the number and locale of her > speaking engagements would suggest a talk every few days with > miles of highway between. But the reality is even more overwhelm- > ing: Dorothy pressed her speaking engagements together into > blocks of several weeks each with much of the remaining time > spent on administrative work: the Local Spiritual Assembly of > Lima, membership on the National Spiritual Assembly of the > Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada, activity on six nation- > ally appointed committees: chairmanship of the National Child > Training Committee, the Inter-America Committee, and the Na- > tional Race Unity Committee; and, membership on the Central > States Summer School Committee, the Regional Teaching Com- > mittee for Ohio, Indiana, and Western Pennsylvania, and the Na- > tional Public Meetings Committee. > Among her travel teaching trips were several devoted solely to > college lectures. On one trip Dorothy spoke at all the outstand- > ing campuses in North and South Carolina and southern Geor- > gia, and many schools in West Virginia and Florida. Many col- > leges in Kentucky and Tennessee also received her. Sometimes > these lectures were given under the auspices of the College Foun- > dation Committee (later known as the Bahá’í College Speakers > > Bureau), which she was trying to help establish, other times as a > representative of the Race Unity Committee. Among the sub- > jects were “Achievements of Minority Groups,” “The Cause and > Curse of Prejudice,” and “Sharing Civilization,” with many addi- > tional talks by Louis G. Gregory on topics including “Racial > Amity.” > In the fall of 1941, having received a letter from Shoghi Effendi > in August encouraging her to “do as much of this type of work as > possible during the present year,” Dorothy traveled to the south- > west, speaking at twenty-seven schools throughout Kansas, Okla- > homa, Texas and New Mexico, stopping at colleges in Arkansas > and Iowa on her way. In New Mexico Dorothy also visited the > Isleta Pueblo with Mary Lou Ewing and met with its leaders. At > eight of the schools in the southwest the student body was made > up entirely of minority students, four schools Indian, four others > black. > In the first two years of the new decade, Dorothy visited and > spoke at more than ninety college campuses, adding a dozen more > the next year. Through lectures given by Dorothy and other rep- > resentatives of the NSA’s committees, the second month of 1942 > brought the total number of college students who had heard of > the Faith to approximately sixteen thousand. On July 31 she re- > ceived a cable, “ADVISE CONCENTRATE COLLEGES FALL. PRAYING STILL > GREATER VICTORIES. DEEPEST LOVING APPRECIATION, SHOGHI RABBANI.” > > By 1943 the College Speakers Bureau was fully formed and > many more Bahá’ís volunteered to travel and lecture at schools > across the country. At the end of the year, as Dorothy wrote in > The Bahá’í World “The total number of schools and colleges to > receive Bahá’í speakers is now over two hundred and it is esti- > mated that some three hundred and fifty actual talks have been > delivered before chapels, assemblies, classrooms and student > clubs.”1 > > Dorothy Baker, “The Bahá’í Faith in the Colleges,” in The Bahá’í World: > A Biennial International Record, Volume IX 1940-1944, comp. National > Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada > (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1945), p. 774. > > Until wartime gasoline rationing went into effect, Dorothy > drove on most of her speaking tours, pressing the miles between > campuses into whatever time she had, with the result that her > driving wasn’t the safest. Though many people have commented > that Dorothy was a good driver, even when she was not in a hurry > she liked to drive fast, and with a certain amount of abandon. > On a trip together a few years before, Mary Lou Ewing sur- > prised Dorothy with a jittery response to her swinging ease in > passing other cars and her high speed on hills, highways, and > winding country roads. > Initially Dorothy’s driving somewhat amused Mary Lou, but > when they came into the hills of southern Ohio she had trouble > restraining herself even to sudden gasps and stiff-armed bracing > against the dashboard. After a particularly rousing lunge past the > car in front, the downhill side of the road precariously close, > Dorothy put the Cadillac sedan into second gear and roared up > the narrow winding highway. Mary Lou, who had been in a state > of paralyzed silence, thanked God for saving her one last time > and finally spoke up. “Dorothy, will you please drive more care- > fully? Please don’t pass cars on hills. I’m not important to Bahá’u’- > lláh, but you are, so if we go over the edge you’ll be saved, but I’ll > certainly be killed!” Unconscious that her friend’s fear had been > sincere, Dorothy was both surprised and amused. She hadn’t seri- > ously thought of danger, but laughed and agreed to be more cau- > tious. > In the late fall of 1941, about to start out on one of her college > trips, Dorothy asked Mary Lou1 to accompany her, this time > > Mary Lou and Tom Ewing pioneered to Albuquerque. They were the first > Bahá’ís in the state of New Mexico. There Mary Lou became active in work > with some thirty-five Indian tribes, involving both the Bahá’í Faith and the > Indian cultures. > > through the southern states. For various reasons Mary Lou had to > decline her friend’s invitation to join her on the trip, but Dorothy > persisted. > Still she couldn’t accept the invitation, even when Dorothy > offered to pay her expenses. Though Mary Lou adored Dorothy > and would have liked to spend more time together, she felt she > had to return to New Mexico. Even Dorothy’s beguiling logic and > obvious desire for her company couldn’t sway her. > Mary Lou could not believe it when two days later, on the way > out of town, Dorothy stopped by again and said, “There’s some- > thing wrong with this trip. I think it’s that you are supposed to be > with me. Put those clothes in a bag and come.” > Still firm, Mary Lou couldn’t be convinced. “There may be > something wrong with the trip, but it’s not that I’m supposed to be > with you!” > A day and a half later Dorothy was driving through the Blue > Ridge Mountains. Luckily her lane of the mountain road had > been warmed by sunlight and was free of ice, but the inner lane, > closest to the mountain, looked precarious. As Dorothy rounded > a curve and swung back toward the mountain to follow the road > deeper into the late fall woods, a massive truck made the turn > from the other direction. For a moment it looked as if the truck > were driving in her lane, on the outside of the curve. She flinched > in horrified anticipation, then realized it must only be an illusion. > But Dorothy’s eyes wouldn’t let her mind ignore the obvious; the > flat nose of the truck was still coming and was not next to the > mountain as it should have been. Instinct said to swerve, though > her mind still fought for reality as it should be. For a flashing > moment of imagined relief Dorothy knew the catastrophe would > be averted and the tension broken as quickly as she passed on the > inside of the truck. She jerked her steering wheel left, into the > inner lane where the loaded flatbed should have been. Respond- > > ing faster than her mind had obeyed her vision, the car, still mov- > ing at full speed, swung over. In her own rightful lane, the truck > kept coming, its clattering roar blocking out every other sound > and perception as double wheels and veering load filled her vi- > sion, then went barreling away down the mountain road. > Disaster averted, but her car wheels unsure on the icy inner > lane, Dorothy pulled the steering wheel to the right to get back > on her own side of the road. The turn of her tires threw her car > into a skid on the smooth wet ice—the ice the departing truck > had successfully avoided by forcing her to drive on the frozen > section. > The rumble of heavy wheels on asphalt was disappearing in > the distance as Dorothy felt a new panic and struggled to keep her > car from careening toward the cliff. Free of Dorothy’s control, it > twisted wildly to the right, a foreign body spinning her farther > from the mountain toward the emptiness of open air. Options > gone, Dorothy watched the high treetops coming close, her mind > slowed to the speed of wordless motion. But the car still spun in > its frenzied circle, not yet ready to hurl itself into orbit. Now the > wet, scaly mountainside faced her, melted snow making its rough > facets glitter. The vitreous rock caught her staring gaze, coming > toward her at top speed as the treetops had a moment before. The > car lunged toward the wall of rock as the front end made a futile, > hurtling attempt to break through to the other side of the moun- > tain. Dorothy’s teeth sent a powerful vibration through mouth > and skull as they collided with the steering wheel. Then she felt > the car lift off its front wheels. It rolled completely over and landed > again. > She lay bleeding on the front seat and woke to feel detritus > enamel crumbled on her tongue, matching the fragmentary fall- > ing of granular rock that dropped from the mountainside onto > the wrinkled hood of her car. Dorothy touched her wet lips and > > found warm red blood on her fingers. Right hand cupped under > her mouth, she struggled to unlock the door, finally sitting in the > car, feet on the ground outside, with bleeding face pushed be- > yond them to keep her fresh suit clean. > A motorist pulled to a stop and ran toward her, shaken and > pale at the sight of the crushed car, the bloody woman slumped > out of it. Dorothy looked up from where she let the rich, heavy > blood drip and coagulate on the dark asphalt. He saw it too. > She said, “Thank you for stopping. Can you please take me on > to the next town? It’s just over the hill and I’m due there this > afternoon.” > “You can’t travel, why don’t we just get to my car and I’ll take > you back to the doctor?” > The man reached for Dorothy’s arm and supported her by the > shoulders as they walked toward his car. > “I think it’s just my lip. If you could just take me along with > you, over the hill, I could wash up at a gas station.” > “Your car’s a total wreck and you’re in no shape to go anywhere > but the hospital.” > With no more discussion the man put her in the back seat, > turned his car around and took Dorothy to the only doctor in the > town she’d just left forty-five minutes before. > Dazed but insistent Dorothy tried again with the examining > physician. > “When you know I’m all right, I really must make arrange- > ments to go on; there are people waiting for me.” > The doctor took her home number and called Frank. Ignoring > her desire to carry on with her speaking tour, they made arrange- > ments for her to get back to Ohio and for the car to be towed > home. When Mary Lou stepped into her room in Lima, Dorothy > said, “See? I’ve come back to get you!” > > Mary Lou was shocked. She said, “You’re not going out again! > This trip really may be wrong.” > Dorothy’s answer was, “No, if I weren’t supposed to finish the > trip I would have been killed.” > The next week Dorothy did go on with her scheduled tour, > this time in Frank’s car as hers was irreparably damaged. > At the following National Spiritual Assembly meeting, some > of the members were talking with Dorothy about why the wreck > might have happened, guessing at reasons why Providence would > have had it occur. Dorothy was considering the possibilities too. > Only Louis Gregory sat quietly listening. He watched them all > muse over the spiritual significance of her accident. > “Dorothy …” > She blinked, pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked up > at Louis. > “You were simply driving too fast.” > As he had at Green Acre, he saw that Dorothy’s mind was wan- > dering to vain imaginings and said just the words to pull her away > from them. > The flavor of those college trips was adventurous even when > Dorothy wasn’t spinning her car into a mountain. After catching > a ride with her, an older, dilapidated-looking hitchhiker told > Dorothy, as he got out of the car, “When you picked me up I was > going to do whatever it took to steal your money and your jew- > elry, but something stopped me.” Before taking his splay-fingered > hand from the door, the man leaned back in so his face, cross- > hatched with a life of contradicting lines, came close to her and > his cracked lips again breathed the same air. > “Whatever else you do driving around these hills, don’t you > ever pick up anybody that looks like me again, you hear? Never.” > He slammed the door and headed down the road. > > 36. National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada, 1940. From left to right: > Siegfried Schlopflocher, Harlan Ober, Dorothy Baker, Roy Wilhelm, Amelia Collins, Allen McDaniel, > Leroy Ioas, Louis Gregory, and Horace Holley. > In Kansas a tornado-threatening storm threw Dorothy’s car back > and forth across the road. The countryside was empty and no > other car traveled the deserted highway. Sighting a farmhouse, > Dorothy stopped and tried to open her door, but the wind blew > against it too hard. On the downwind side she was able to push > the car door open and slide to the ground. Sharp granules of > blowing dust ripped into her eyes and hair and burned her skin as > she crawled to the door of the house and banged on it with her > fist. There was no answer. She tried the handle but the door was > bolted. Still lying on her stomach, Dorothy banged again with all > her strength on the bottom of the door, hoping the people inside > simply hadn’t heard her over the roar of wind and the battering > sound of flowing debris as it slammed against the wooden walls. > Then there were voices. Dorothy shouted back so they would > know it was a human knocking there, not just the splintering > wood of their wildly dancing porch swing, pounding against the > shuttered windows. > “I’m outside. Out here!” > A high-pitched voice, muffled by the closed door, tried to scream > over the wind. “Can’t open it.” > “I’m not dangerous, I just need shelter.” > “Got to keep the door closed, the pressure change would > blow the place up.” > Dorothy lay there for a long moment, trying to find the reason > or energy that could dispute that logic. A rock the size of a bar of > soap bounced across the porch, tossed by the wind as if by a roll- > ing mass of water. It hit her ankle bone, cutting her bare skin > exposed save for the ruined pair of stockings, a pair she’d been > saving through the shortages especially for this speaking trip. Ly- > ing there being blown and battered seemed ridiculous. Though > the other option was no more tempting, she made her way back > across the yard and climbed into the front seat. Unsure whether > > to go or to stay, Dorothy again chose to keep moving, this time in > the hope of escaping the tempest. Slowly she rolled down the > road, furiously pulling the wheel one way, then the other, to keep > the barely moving machine on the pavement and repeating out > loud with every breath, “Yá Bahá-u’l-Abhá!”1 > Other episodes were just as exhilarating, though with less physi- > cal drama. As Dorothy left an interview with George Washington > Carver, the renowned agricultural researcher, he called out to her, > “Tell the world, Mrs. Baker, that Dr. Carver is very partial to the > Bahá’í Faith, very partial.” > With most of the Pacific Fleet destroyed by Japanese bombers > and America thoroughly entrenched in “the war effort,” peace > was a most unpopular subject. In an article on the activities of the > College Speakers Bureau Dorothy wrote, > At one college in North Carolina the president sympa- > thetically prepared the speaker for a bleak reception. “My > students,” he remarked, “all but stopped the last speaker who > mentioned peace, and he a minister wearing the cloth, mind > you!” Looking carefully, at a later time, through “The Pat- > tern for Future Society,” he said, “Oh, but I understand. > You Bahá’ís do not dwell on pacifism; you offer a program. > Every college should hear this.” In this manner school men > seem almost invariably to accept the writings of Shoghi > Effendi. The talented head of the Indian Normal College at > Pembroke, where no speaking appointment had previously > been made, said, after scanning “The Pattern,” that if nec- > essary classes could be disbanded to hear this subject.2 > > At a backwoods college in Kentucky Dorothy was greeted by a > > Variation of the Greatest Name meaning “O Thou the Glory of Glories!” > Dorothy Baker, quoted in “Around the World with Bahá’í Youth,” in Bahá’í > World, Vol. IX, p. 530. > > completely different environment and a student body that > electrified her with its simple, straightforward warmth. Wherever > she went Dorothy talked with her audiences about their interests, > not proselytizing but discussing the basic truths of Bahá’í con- > cepts. She wrote in Bahá’í News: > At Pine Buff, Ark., on the campus of the State Negro > University, the members of the faculty came forward at the > close of Chapel, and talked for almost an hour, losing en- > tirely, it afterward appeared, their lunch period. The Bahá’í > principles interested them not at all, but they were held by > the thought that a spiritual commonwealth had been born, > indivisible in its nature, and committed to a unified racial > life in its essential pattern; that it could never be rent apart > religiously and that its unique organism, under the Guard- > ian, was already an actual, living, breathing civilization, > slowly growing up. This was no hollow promise, but a tested > Reality.1 > > In the early 1940s many of the schools in the deep South were > riddled with racial prejudice. Undaunted, Dorothy always dis- > cussed the importance of unity among the people of the world, > regardless of race. The responses to her emphasis on racial har- > mony were generally mild. Many of her audiences were made up > of people for the most part who did not concern themselves with > non-WASPs. They could listen with interest to the progressive > teachings of Bahá’u’lláh without sacrificing the accepted pattern > of their lives. It was in a black college that the wisdom of uncom- > promising unity was most thoughtfully discussed. To these stu- > dents and professors the race issue was not something to be kept > at a distance, but neither were they ready to accept white society > as a whole. During the discussion following one of Dorothy’s > > Dorothy Baker, “Among the Colleges,” in Bahá’í News, no. 161 (Mar. 1943), p. 6. > > talks, a young dean spoke, a man of “unusual thoughtfulness and > charm.” > [He] seemed doubtful of the wisdom of the uncompro- > mising unity required in the Bahá’í community life. When I > assured him that Shoghi Effendi, and the Master before him, > had held up that pattern as the clearest demonstration that > we could lead the world to peace, he said, “but don’t you > think we might compromise a little because of the Ku Klux > Klan?” One of our companions replied for me: “The speaker > has said that this Faith is the Kingdom of God. If this is > true, you cannot compromise it; neither can you divide it.” > Picking up the thread we explained that if the Kingdom, in > America, should divide around the races, then we must per- > mit division in India concerning the “untouchable” and com- > promise likewise the essential unity between Arab and Jew > in the Holy Land. The dean became thoughtful and then > slowly he said, “This is a ‘world’ Faith. This Faith is different. > This Faith may be worth dying for.”1 > In an article for Bahá’í World, “The Bahá’í Faith in the Colleges,” > Dorothy again wrote about reactions on campus: > One could never tell where the interest would flare most > brightly. Here an aristocratic college in the heart of the > “blueglass,” there a four-year business college of practical > turn of mind, and again one of the state colleges, colored or > white, would press the speakers to stay for a day or two, or > send others …. The head of the College of the Latter Day > Saints had heard ‘Abdu’l-Bahá speak in 1912 in Washington! > “Where have the Bahá’ís been through these years?” he asked, > “I have wondered when you would come to the colleges.”2 > > Dorothy Baker, quoted in “Around the World with Bahá’í Youth,” in Bahá’í > World, Vol. IX, p. 531. > Dorothy Baker, “The Bahá’í Faith in the Colleges,” in Bahá’í World, Vol. IX, p. 775. > > The numerous reports sent in to the National Bahá’í Office > from colleges where Dorothy spoke give a first-hand idea of the > response her presence stimulated: > Kentucky State College > In the thirteen years of my administrative experience as the > chief executive of this college, no speaker has appeared upon > our platform with a message more comprehensive in nature, > more universal in scope and more gripping in its appeal. For > some forty-five minutes Mrs. Baker gained and held the com- > plete attention of our audience. While some of us had been > introduced to the Bahá’í movement in other institutions, as > far as I know Mrs. Baker is the first to bring the message to > Kentucky State College. > Bowling Green Business University > We are accustomed to having extraordinary speakers, but I > cannot recall that we have ever listened to a woman who so > pleased everybody as did Mrs. Baker. The best part of her > address was the high ideals she held, all undergirded by his- > torical proofs and classical illustrations with now and then a > bit of humor. Every school in America ought to hear Mrs. > Baker. She spreads the gospel of Everlasting Truth, and she > does it in an effective way. > Vanderbilt University; School of Religion > I am happy to testify to the ability of Mrs. Dorothy Baker as > > a speaker and teacher …. She had a charming personality > and a very happy and effective way of presenting her mes- > sage, and best of all she had something to say. > The praise of Dorothy’s ability, of the way she handled herself, > makes it sound as if the whole process of speaking had become > quite easy for Dorothy, but in fact it was still most challenging. > Helen Archambault, a Bahá’í who then lived in the Boston area, > talked with Dorothy many times in Boston, at Green Acre, and > at National Conventions. > Before speaking to large audiences Dorothy has said that > her knees quaked as she approached the doors of the great > colleges, but she used the Tablet of Aḥmad several times > and when she finally gave her address she felt spiritual power > like a mighty wind sweep over her, and that the thousands > were on their knees before the Beloved. This would show > that she became selfless and spoke only after He had spo- > ken. > En route between colleges, Dorothy would sometimes put a > can of soup next to the radiator to warm, then stop by the side of > the road to eat her fast, inexpensive lunch. When time allowed > she would take advantage of a municipal golf course. Using the > adjustable-head club Frank gave her, she would play a few holes > until she felt, as she put it, “stretched out” and could go on, re- > freshed. > Back from an early college trip, Dorothy dreamed she saw hun- > dreds of the students riding in square, bug-like open cars. The > young people, all male (which seemed odd to her), called to Dor- > othy to join them at their destination. She recognized some of > their faces as students she’d spoken to at different colleges and > > universities, so she followed. The next impression was of being in > a huge luminous banquet hall, a long room with tables stretched > its length on both sides. The young men were already seated when > she arrived, lining the tables from the entrance of the brilliantly > lit room to the far end, which seemed to disappear into light. > When she entered they were engaged in some joyous celebration, > talking and laughing, but as she walked in they all stood to greet > her. The joy of the room filled Dorothy’s heart as she walked > between the tables of radiant young men. > The next December Pearl Harbor was bombed and the United > States entered the war. Soon after Dorothy saw her first army jeep > and commented to the family that it was exactly like the car she’d > seen in her dream. Then a heavy bolt of understanding jarred > her; the young men riding through her dream were on their way > to meet death in those bug-like army jeeps and the banquet where > they would greet her was one they were going to soon, in the next > world. > > Chapter 16 > Memories of Dorothy; her talks and letters, 1940s > Travel, talks—hundreds during the early 40s, even beyond those > given at colleges—counseling the Bahá’ís and near-believers; these > were the activities Dorothy gave herself to, but her friends and > family members were never long forgotten, nor did they receive > less than a full measure of her love, though her time was limited. > Their responses to her and their memories of her speak lucidly of > Dorothy and of a devotion to her beliefs which expanded her love > of the people around her. Written accounts of these memories > and her own letters during those same years, primarily the early > 1940s, display clearly her personality, her attitudes, and aims. > Louise B. Matthias quoting Dorothy Baker > There is nothing I would love more than to give every minute > of my life and all of my attention, all of my acts to teaching work > … but then I would become a very unbalanced per- > son and I would not be able to give a true picture of the > Bahá’í Faith. I have always to see to it that I have three facets > to my life—my Bahá’í work, my family, and recreation. > Mary Lou Ewing > On the cross-country train ride with Dorothy, from Ohio > > to New Mexico, she talked to me about how exciting it was > to be alive. If she had her choice, she said, she would have > lived in the time of the Báb. She turned to me, her eyes alive > with fire and excitement, and asked, “Mary Lou, wouldn’t > you have loved to be alive during the time of the Báb?” I > answered, “Good heavens, no! She looked so startled, but I > was very serious, and explained that I simply would not have > had the spiritual wherewithal to have purchased—or some- > how gained—that kind of privilege. I told her that I might > want to buy a Cadillac, but would probably be lucky to get > a Ford. To live among the Dawn-Breakers would have been > like not having the wherewithal to join that august com- > pany. Dorothy obviously would have been part of them. > One day she told me that I must face the fact that I must > make the choice between being a mediocre Bahá’í and being > a flame-like Bahá’í who truly serves. It was frightening … > but I remember that she would put it very squarely on a > person that the choice was essentially with that person as to > what he would accomplish. > Margaret Ruhe > During the years that David and I lived in Atlanta, Georgia > on two different occasions, Dorothy came to be with us, > and we felt so honored that she took time out. One time she > came under conditions that really made me quite sad. > I wrote and asked her if she could come and help us with > a weekend teaching institute. She wrote back and said that > all her weekends were taken; there were no free gaps at all in > the near future, but she said, “You know, I have promised > Frank and the children to go on a fishing trip with them to > Norris Dam Lake in Tennessee. You know, that area is not > > far from Atlanta. I’ll just take a day and a half off and come > down and be with you, and then scoot right back up there > to my family.” This made me feel very bad, because I felt > that Frank and the children needed her so much, and I knew > there were times when her family were very lonely. I knew > that her family life had been somewhat disrupted, and that > the two little children, Bill and Louise, missed their mother > very much. Later on I heard stories about how Bill really at > times was very, very lonely in his childhood because his > mother had to be away so much. > Anyway, Dorothy came and spent the weekend with us. > It was very interesting. We held a big public meeting one of > the evenings she was there in one of the large hotels in down- > town Atlanta. I had been asked to be her chairman. Dorothy > arrived at the meeting wearing a beautiful long evening gown, > and I was also wearing a long, formal dress for evening wear. > The two of us stood there receiving the guests, and a gentle- > man who became one of our very good contacts and stud- > ied the Faith for many years, came in and sat down and > looked around. After looking at Dorothy and me for a while > he came up and said, “What do you two glamour girls know > about religion anyway?” > Dorothy and I were simply delighted; we laughed and > laughed, and I’ve never forgotten that remark …. She was > so human, and she enjoyed all the human touches. She al- > ways studied the hats I wore, and always had some com- > ment on them, and this tickled me to death. > She was also very human in her domestic pursuits. For > some reason or other she had a special thing about canning > fruits and vegetables. On her way home from Convention > she used to stop at all those marvelous fruit stands in Illinois > and Ohio, and arrive home absolutely loaded with fresh fruit > > and vegetables. Then everybody in sight had to help with > the canning process, which she thoroughly enjoyed. She got > right into the middle of it herself. > Mary Lou Ewing > Another thing I remember about those early days was the > ride to Bluffton, Ohio … fifteen or twenty miles from town. > Dorothy had called and asked if I would ride over with her, > to pick up Louise from a swimming party she had arranged > for her …. Going over Dorothy commented on how she > had been protected by Bahá’u’lláh in her mothering. She > said that she realized she was [away] from her children a > great deal; that it would have been very easy to have an es- > trangement, to have had a sense of neglect of her parental > duties, a sense of separation and deprivation. But she had > been comforted over and over by being intuitively aware, > even though absent from them, of difficult times which ei- > ther Louise or Bill might be experiencing. She could be in > the middle of a meeting, she could be in the middle of a > trip, the middle of prayers or studying, or most anything > and one of her children would come into her mind in such > a way as to alert her that she should instantly turn to Bahá’- > u’lláh and ask for their protection. Later on, when she re- > turned home, she would ask about what had happened, and > over and over she would be able to tie the prayer, or the > sense of urgency for prayer to a crisis that had occurred in > their lives. It was something that was on her mind, and about > which she was intensely grateful to Bahá’u’lláh—for being > close in this parent-daughter relationship, or parent-son re- > lationship. > > 37. The Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Lima in the 1940s. > Back row, left to right: Harry Jay, Dorothy Baker, Charlene Warner, > Clyde Dennison (?). Front row, left to right: Edmund Miessler, > Hazel McCurdy, Frank Warner, Floyd Saphr, Frank Baker. > > Louise Baker Matthias (as a teenager) > One time, when Mother was away from home on a teaching > trip, I woke early, feeling especially happy and loving. I > dressed and ran down to the “pullman,” where Dad had > already finished his breakfast and was looking through the > newspaper. > “Hi, Dad,” I greeted him happily and kissed the top of > his head, where his hair had begun to get just a bit thin. As I > slid onto the bench across the table from him, I reached for > the pitcher of milk, bumped against the toaster knocking it > to the floor with a great clatter, doubly loud because I tried > to catch it on the way down—it shattered a cup and saucer, > > 38. Mary Lou Ewing, 1945. > > clanged against a heavy wooden chair, ricocheted off the end > of the bench and finally subsided under the table. In a des- > perate attempt to halt its progress I was under the table, too, > on hands and knees. > Dad’s nerves were vibrating, and he snarled, “For heaven’s > sake, Louise! Can’t you be more careful?” > My nerves were in no better shape than my father’s. I > scrambled out from under the table, leaving the toaster in > its temporary grave, and snarled back, “No, I can’t! I was > born clumsy!” and fled, weeping, to my room. I threw my- > self across my bed, sobbing with self-pity and, for the mo- > ment, hating my father. The phone rang and I waited, ex- > pecting to hear Dad’s footsteps. There was no sound from > > downstairs, so I pulled myself together enough to go to the > upstairs phone. > “Hi, Loweezy.” I heard my mother’s voice. “How are you, > Sweetie?” > “Oh, Muzz, I’m terrible! I hate Dad!” Through my sobs I > told her what had happened. > “Was that it! I knew something was wrong. I just dreamed > about you. You were a little girl, high in the air, in a little > wicker basket hung below a balloon. You were so happy and > laughed so gaily. Then for some reason the basket tipped, > and you fell out. I saw you falling. You cried out to me and > you looked so shocked that I woke up and had to call to be > sure you were all right.” > She was quiet for just a moment. Dad picked up the down- > stairs phone and heard her next words. “My poor ewe lamb! > And my poor, darling Frank-o!” Her voice was tender. The > three-way conversation that followed was not profound, but > within seconds, thanks more to Mother’s warm, loving ap- > preciative spirit than to her actual words, Dad and I were > once more feeling tender toward each other, and were laugh- > ing at the ease with which we had surrendered our nerves. > Roan Orloff Stone1 > It was 1943—the national Congress of the Esperanto Asso- > ciation of North America was to be held in Lima, Ohio. > The Esperantists and the Bahá’ís invited me to spend a month > prior to the Congress teaching a class in Esperanto. I was > staying at the home of Frank and Dorothy Baker and their > > Roan Orloff Stone and her husband, Jim, pioneered to Gallup, New > Mexico, and worked with the Navajos. > > son and daughter, and the cook. And of course, Aunty Lu— > Dorothy’s mother, who was the Esperantist in the family. > Actually, I saw Dorothy seldom during that month. If > she wasn’t at meetings of the National Spiritual Assembly, > then she was travel teaching for the Faith. When she was > gone, the house, so charming (I loved it because it was made > of fieldstone and it had pillars and a veranda), was as quiet > as a church on Monday morning. The children were busy > with their summer activities. Frank Baker and Aunty Lu and > I rattled around in the house like three little peas on a big > dinner plate. Everything was so subdued! > No sooner did Dorothy Baker come home, however, than > there was an air of life, of brightness and joy and magne- > tism that went everywhere she went. > Conrad Baker’s son Dwight > My first memories of my grandmother were of visiting her > and my grandfather in the house in Lima. I remember sit- > ting on the couch with her in the long living room that could > be divided from the dining room and kitchen by a sliding > door. She would tell stories to Ann and me. I especially re- > member her telling (not reading) us about Jean Valjean and > the silver candlesticks from Les Miserables. She kept us eager > with anticipation by telling one chapter at a time with such > drama that we could hardly wait for the next chapter—and > with such compassion for Jean Valjean and his suffering. She > also told us stories from the Bobbsey Twins, Peter Rabbit, > and of an orphan family which I think was called the Box > Car Kids. (They all loved each other and stayed together > through thick and thin.) And of course she told us stories of > the Báb and the early Bahá’í Youth Dawn-Breakers …. > > On one of her trips to Mexico, Grandma bought me a > little leather purse which I still have. It is shaped like a little > shoe and has a zipper up the front. The leather is tooled > with fancy designs and it says Mexico on the side. I also have > some coins from foreign countries which she gave me and I > keep in the purse. > Edna Andrews > I remember so well a morning (I’m not sure of the date— > 1943 or 44). Dorothy was to go to Chicago for surgery. She > told me the date and the time of day the surgery would be > done. She asked me to pray for her while she was under the > anesthetic. She felt we could be very close to each other at a > time like this. > At the given time I went into my bedroom after discon- > necting the phone and locking my doors against neighbors > dropping in. I prayed for her, taking the healing prayers, > and concentrating on the Tablet of Aḥmad. > I think probably this was the only time in my life that I > experienced the “ecstasy” of prayer. Two hours passed; I knew > the surgery was probably completed. Then I realized that at > some time during the prayer I had seemed to feel that Dor- > othy had said, “Oh Edna, Pray. Fill your life with prayer. > Pray Pray Pray.” > A month passed and [Dorothy] came home and I went to > see her. I asked her what she would have said to me if our > minds had met during the time she was under the anesthetic, > and she answered, “Oh Edna, I would have said to you, > ‘Pray, Pray, fill your life with prayer.” > > John Robarts1 > She came to Rice Lake (summer school) in 1943. We were > talking about prayer and she said, “I don’t always do it, but > I like to arise in the early morning, before all the rest of my > household, so I can have some quiet time to myself. I can go > into the bathroom and lock the door. Two prayers I like to > say are the Tablet of Aḥmad and the Long Obligatory Prayer. > Sometimes I have time for only one. I find that when I say > the Long Obligatory Prayer my personal affairs go well—I > seem to be inspired. And when I say the Tablet of Aḥmad, > all my Bahá’í work goes well.” > 1943 was the last year of the Seven Year Plan. We had > many unfulfilled goals. Besides giving a course, Dorothy had > sessions with almost every member at the conference. I can’t > tell you how many of the people there pioneered, but many > did. Nobody could resist her. One woman wanted to pio- > neer, but she was unmarried, middle-aged and alone. After > talking to Dorothy, she went to Halifax, and wrote back > that she had found a job that was just as good as the one she > had left. A month later she wired home asking for prayers. > She was being married the following day. > Gene Pritchard2 > I was a passenger in the car which Dorothy Baker drove > to Rice Lake. Dorothy stayed overnight with Harriet Pettibone, > > For more from hand of the Cause of God, John Robarts, see Chapter 17. > Gene Pritchard, a devoted and active Bahá’í woman, all four of whose > children also became Bahá’ís. > > and we left early the next morning. While she was driving in > heavy traffic in Buffalo, some people tooted their horn at > her. She most lovingly said, “Darlings, I will be right out of > your way.” > Always her heart was filled with love …. While at Rice > Lake Dorothy Baker spoke so dramatically, and beautifully. > When she made the appeal for pioneers her eyes flashed and > it seemed as though she was communing with the other > world. In fact one person in the room said that they had a > vision and had seen ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in the room. Sometimes > she told stories, and laughed heartily, and everyone in the > room laughed with her …. > Dorothy Baker often spoke of her Grandmother Beecher, > of her lovely daughter “Lou” for whom she prayed each morn- > ing[,] and she spoke of her pioneering in South America. > She also spoke of her son and told of an incident where she > had to do some work with the National Spiritual Assembly > regarding draft status. She said she had a son whom the de- > cision might affect, but regardless of any personal feelings > she had to do what was right in the sight of God. She often > spoke of her wonderful husband, and of his sacrifice in al- > lowing her to travel and teach extensively. > > Once Dorothy Baker asked Martha Root how she was able to > accomplish so much in the face of so many difficulties. According > to an unsigned typed document found among the Baker papers, > Martha answered, “Dorothy, when I am faced with a difficulty, I > use the Tablet of Aḥmad every day for nine days, asking God, in > the name of that Holy Tablet, to remove the difficulty. If I am > faced with an extremely difficult problem, I recite the Tablet of > Aḥmad three times a day for nine days. And when I am faced > with a problem that is completely impossible, and there is and > > can be no solution, I use the Tablet of Aḥmad nine times a day > for nine days, and the problem is always solved.” > > Notes from some of Dorothy Baker’s talks at Rice Lake, 1941, > taken by Gene Pritchard > On Prayer: > Pray until you feel the inner contact about anything, then > watch. God will open the door. We should obtain God’s first > choice. Have magnetic spiritual passion. Talk, listen to the > inner silences. Hear the voice of God. Yearning opens the > recesses of the heart. Have ardor and conviction …. > Remember the gift of intercession, as it is one of the cre- > ative forces of God. Those who have ascended have different > attributes but there is no real separation. The realm of bounty > is not fully understood. The force behind our progress is the > degree of detachment, the consecrated life, and depth of > conviction and devotion. The depth of our contract with > God shows the conviction to God. Servitude is the essence > of motion. > Pray aloud, so your body will be surrounded by prayer. It > helps concentration. There is always divine companionship > in every loneliness. A soul is never alone. We should always > be God-conscious. “I am far from Thee, but Thou art near > unto me.” God is nearer to you than your hands and feet, > nearer than breathing. Joy is the water of life, the cause of > vivification …. Joy appears first in the life that is inspired, > then it affects the lives of others …. Every home where > there is prayer is the garden of God. > You can lose contact after your commitment through your > own veils and clouds if you do not pray every day. If there > > are clouds around, use the Tablet of Aḥmad, as it never fails. > If there was a great wall Martha Root used the Tablet of > Aḥmad 9 times a day. “Seek, O servant of God, this light > until you remain in limitless joy.” Seek the eternal condi- > tions. > If healing is best, it will surely be granted. Remedies and > prayers are not contradictory. The law of prayer is higher. > The prayers of a soul do not penetrate the veils of the > Kingdom if we are unclean. > Use the Tablet of Aḥmad several times to find deeds you > can do to confirm souls. Do not lose your destiny. Ask God > if he can use you. “Rise to that for which ye were created.” It > is the Day of God. Let us perform some deed however small. > Through deeds we can recreate lives. > When you pray, first know you are standing in the pres- > ence of the Almighty, then pray with utter detachment. > On self, others, and the material world: > Give your life to God. Make a contract and keep it no > matter how hard or where it leads. Each one chosen of God > has to fight the battle of self. No matter how difficult make > the contract with God, the supreme sacrifice. Realize the > harmony of life here and hereafter. It is a great opportunity. > In Gleanings it says that some have the capacity of a cup, > and some a gallon. If we turn to God, through prayer he > will turn it into a rushing river. If you are in a community > where there are difficulties, try praying together. The heart > of every righteous man will throb. If personality problems > [were causing disunity], all difficulties will disappear. Every > soul bows down to God’s word. The vibrations are never- > > ending. The word of God goes out, but never comes back. > No one has any enemy but himself, his own ego. Goliath, > our ego, is to be conquered by David. > It is good for each soul to take the Holy Writings and be > left free to grow in it, but never to become an authority on > it. > … The Sermon on the Mount still applies in speaking of > individuals. Turning the other cheek still is the highest act > of kindness and tenderness—radiant acquiescence. Social > life must be a forceful suppression of aggression—strength > behind love, justice. “Whatever ye eat or drink, or think, do > it all to the Glory of God.” The soul of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was > too great to recognize blame. He saw praise and blame as > one, so great was his love for humanity …. The unification > of mankind will be established only by a true, abiding love > that burns away the differences of self-interest, and melts by > its flame all hearts into one heart. > The perfect human sentiments and virtues: > 1. Your thoughts and ambitions are set to acquire human > perfection. > 2. You live to do good and to bring happiness to others. > 3. Your greatest longing is to comfort those who mourn, > strengthen the weak, and to be the cause of hope to the > despairing soul. Day and night your thoughts are turned > to the Kingdom, and your heart is full of the Love of > God. > 4. You know neither opposition, dislike, nor hatred, for ev- > ery living creature is dear to you and the good of each is > sought. > > After questions, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá sought guidance from above > or smiled lovingly at the person, then spoke. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá > lived and worked in that higher and real world. All His con- > cepts, all His motives, all His actions derived their springs > from that “World of Light,” although outwardly He lived in > the world of confusion. He was a herald of the world of > reality, a summoner to all men to leave the seeming and live > on the plane of the Real. > All material things progress to a certain point, then begin > to decline. We must obey the law of motion. But with the > human soul, there is no decline. Its only movement is to- > ward perfection. Growth and progress alone constitute the > motion of the soul. The thought of our own weakness could > only bring despair. We must look higher than all earthly > thoughts, detach ourselves from every material idea, crave > for the things of the spirit, fix our eyes on the everlasting, > bountiful Mercy of the Almighty who will fill our souls with > the gladness of joyful service to His command, “Love One > Another.” … > God always lets us give up the thing we love most. We > must sustain the yearnings of the earth. > On pioneering and teaching: > Each community is an island of assurance. The second > Bahá’í Century is great. Never again will there be a time > when souls can arise to be pioneers. The pioneers are taking > the seed of heroic martyrs, and putting it together with bricks. > There are different stages. We will be ignored, we will be > persecuted, we will be tolerated. Whole groups will vote to > come in. Then, there will be the Golden Age. The key is the > > way we execute our task. Every act will be remembered. The > people of the ages will be those who give all. The intimates > of the Guardian are those who packed up their houses and > walked. > Everyone should be a teacher and educator. Hearts are > waiting. Sometimes if you give the message it is not discov- > ered until the next world. > Spend every breath of your lives in the most great Cause, > so that you may in the end be freed from loss and failure and > attain to the inexhaustible treasury. > If ye will follow earnestly the Teachings of Bahá’u’lláh, ye > shall indeed become the Light of the World, the Soul for the > body of the world, the comfort and help for humanity, and > the source of salvation for the whole universe. > On speaking: > Have your chin in, chest out, shoulders back. Breathe > properly so your voice will throw. Take 20 deep breaths each > morning. Use the lips to make the 3 main sounds each day: > e, ah, o. Concentrate on throwing the voice from the dia- > phragm. Think of your voice as coming out of a pipeline. > Have warmth, depth, feeling, without being dramatic. Avoid > monotone. Have enough pauses for emphasis. Enunciate, > use your lips. If you want to stress a word, hold it …. In > speaking do not hold your breath. Fill up, say the sentence > expending the entire breath. For a good public talk you should > know your goal before you begin; know details. In a planned > talk you should know your distance, and have a few keys. > Put down the points to be covered, a single point for each, > and the key words to remind you of the story. Have your > notes on a card. Use as few notes as possible. Notes spoil > public speaking. > > Memorize as many words of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and Bahá’u’- > lláh as possible. Use as many quotations and stories as pos- > sible to reach the point. When you come to the final point > sum up the goal. It is difficult to become unselfconscious > enough to speak from the heart. Discipline yourself to a brief > outline …. > Lua Getsinger took notebooks full of notes and philoso- > phies while in Haifa. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá told her not to be troubled > with them. He told her when she went to London she would > speak to the audience, but she should first turn her heart to > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and he would tell her what to [say]. Lua tried > to be absolutely obedient. She rose before the audience but > no words came. There was a terrible silence. She raised her > eyes and prayed. Then she spoke as an angel. Every soul > attained the inner meeting. Bahá’u’lláh knows what the hearts > need. As soon as you can arrive at the state of an inspired > speaker, do it. A heart might be confirmed by a look, a word, > an act or a story. We do not know what the soul needs. The > Beloved knows the capacity of others. In speaking, chan- > nelhood is the answer. > From a letter to Louise Caswell1 written by Dorothy Baker, > March 18th, 1942 > … The negative forces of our time seem to knock at every > door. In a letter to Roberta Christian, the Guardian recently > said, “Life in this world holds many tragic and terrible hours > for us all—even for the beloved Manifestation of God Himself. > Even He is not spared the sufferings that fall to Man’s lot in > this fleeting world.” Later he writes in the same letter: “At > > Louise Caswell, see Chapter 18. > > such a time it is not unreasonable to expect your body and > your spirit to be exhausted and depressed.” > But Louise, you are so beautiful that Canal Zone cannot > fail to see it. It would seem to me that you would have only > to be what you are, a rare, delicate instrument of beauty in > the hands of the Beloved, to attract the whole Panamanian > world. And it will come, by the bounty of His Highness the > Exalted One. I think our greatest suffering comes in loving > the Cause so much that impediments to its spread amount > to actual heartbreak …. Darling, if you come north, save a > little time for me in Lima this time; it has been so long, and > one gets homesick to see an old friend. I am still a little > “chore-doer” and you are a pioneer with everlasting lustre. I > need you to help me to attain. > Tender love—Dorothy > A letter from Dorothy to Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khánum, Feb- > ruary 3rd, 1943 > Our darling Rúḥíyyih, > I suppose you never can quite know what your letter meant > to me; especially your mention of my lamb, Winnie Lou. I > am waiting for her to have a particular hour of great need, > and then I am going to send it to her! She gave her first > Bahá’í talk in Spanish, in Panama, and Louise Caswell writes > that it has left the real seeds of a Youth group as a number of > young students and soldiers attended. > Rúḥíyyih, the letter from Shoghi Effendi never has ar- > rived, though your dear note came over two weeks ago. I > wake in the night, wondering what it said, line by line and > longing unutterably to have it. Perhaps that is why God gave > me the comfort of yours, too, dearest one. Your letters to > > Phil and others have been food and inspiration to all Ameri- > can Youth, especially my Winnie Lou. I believe that aside > from the Guardian himself, who is the Pen of God, you are > the chosen channel for our eager young people, especially as > you, above all, bring them close to him. They learn on the > one hand to nestle in his great heart, and on the other to go > out filled with determination and courage to serve. World > Mission is on their lips constantly and in their hearts. Please > never stop writing to America. > … My heart’s love once again to the blessed Guardian. > When next you have the privilege of entering the Tomb of > the Blessed Beauty, dearest Rúḥíyyih, will you pray that my > life may be a ransom to the Guardian? I cannot come to do > this, but I believe that He will answer your prayer. A thou- > sand thanks— > Tenderest love—Dorothy > From Elisabeth Cheneys1 letter to the Guardian, October 14th, > 1944 > Dorothy Baker is to undergo a major operation Monday > morning, November 27th, at the Women’s and Children’s > Hospital in Chicago, for the removal of an abdominal tu- > mor resulting from a serious fall when she was teaching in > Albuquerque, New Mexico, a year ago. During that western > trip, en route to San Francisco, a tiny steel splinter had been > > Elisabeth Cheney, a writer and journalist, learned of the Faith in Lima, > Ohio, and went on to open Paraguay to the Bahá’í Faith in 1940. She contin- > ued to travel and live in Central and South America until illness and finally > death overcame her (see The Bahá’í World, vol. XIII, pp. 914-15). Elisabeth > loved Dorothy Baker very much. > > blown into one of her eyes. Doctors examined her, but could > not find it, because it had penetrated the pupil of her eye > and was of exactly the same color. For two weeks with this > grave and painful disability, which began to affect her sight, > Dorothy continued her tour of lectures, addressing the great > race unity gatherings on the west coast, working with groups > and individuals, often being able to keep the affected eye > open only during her talks on the Cause of God, and that > only by a sort of miracle. At last she arrived in Albuquerque, > and because she could no longer see,1 she fell full length > down a steep flight of stairs; calmly picked herself up, and > went on to talk to a gathering of people about Bahá’u’lláh. > In the audience there was a physician, who was among those > that came forward to talk with her more intimately after the > lecture. And now, it suddenly became impossible for her to > keep the affected eye open. It kept closing in spite of all her > efforts to keep it open. The doctor questioned her about it, > and told her that he had a friend in Albuquerque, a young > medical man, who had access to one of two special lights in > existence in this country, which were designed to show the > location of particles embedded in the human eye, which > could not be detected with ordinary light. He made an ap- > pointment for Dorothy to be examined by this man the next > morning. > The special light showed the splinter embedded in the > pupil of her eye, and the doctors could not believe that, > enduring the agony of such an injury, she had been able for > two weeks to go on teaching the Cause of God. They de- > clared this a physical impossibility. The young doctor took > her hand and said, “I can remove this splinter, but I want > > Her depth perception was affected. > > you to know that when I do so, there is a strong probability > that you will be blind, and I do not want to make you blind. > Do you accept this responsibility?” > Dorothy answered quietly, “I accept it. I am not afraid. I > have faith that you will not blind me.” > The doctor operated and removed the splinter and when > it was over, he said, “Now open your eyes and tell me if you can see. > Dorothy obeyed and replied, “Yes, I can see light.” > “Thank God!” the young man said, with tears rolling down > his face. “I could not have borne it, if I had made one like you blind.” > Harriet Pettibone1 > She told me at the Park Plaza in Toronto where we were > occupying adjoining rooms—that above all she wanted to > be a ransom. This was at early morning prayers in her room— > she looked lovely in a blue silk nightie and matching robe— > and she said it so fervently. I believe she was. > She was a keen judge of people and told me not to waste > my time with two people I introduced her to. She was right, > as far as interesting them in the Faith was concerned. > When I think about her she is as alive as if she was here in > person. > She put her arms around me—one morning after spend- > ing the night in our home—and said, very lovingly, that I > was a slow grower, meaning spiritually. Again she was right. > > Harriet Pettibone, a Bahá’í from North Dakota who was active in Buffalo, > New York after her marriage in 1929. > > Emmalu McCandless1 > Dorothy Baker had tea with me in my room at the Flatiron > Hotel in Omaha, Nebraska in the fall of 1943. She was a > member of the National Spiritual Assembly then and came > to Omaha to visit the Bahá’ís. > I can remember her so clearly, how tall and slender she > was, how animated her beautiful face, how loving her atti- > tude, how eloquent her speech. She was beautiful and radi- > ant and moved like a swift-flowing stream. She was so alive. > One of the things we talked about was the Báb’s Address > to the Letters of the Living, and how it depicted the pattern > of life for all Bahá’ís. She prayed aloud for me personally > and for the success of the consolidation efforts in Omaha. I > was overwhelmed by the flow of her words and her anima- > tion in prayer …. > I have always felt “blessed” by that visit with her in the > hotel. It is one of the memories I will carry with me through > eternity. > Amy Brady Dwelly2 > Perhaps the experience I remember best, and which has stayed > with me in all its intensity through the years was an after- > noon in her hotel room at A—, where she had come to clear > up a difficulty in which two Bahá’ís were involved. > Both parties had received suggestions from Dorothy as to > > In 1924 Emmalu McCandless, her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weyer, and all > her sisters became Bahá’ís. She later moved to Nebraska as a homefront pio- > neer. > Amy Brady Dwelly is well known in children’s education and psychology, > and also as a writer for children. > > a certain appointment; both thought that Dorothy had the > authority to make the appointment, which she did not have > nor had she meant to leave such an impression. Both parties > were furious with each other but neither one held any en- > mity toward Dorothy. She had just returned to her hotel > when I arrived and found her grief-stricken. She paced the > floor, wringing her hands. > Then with tears standing in her eyes she began saying, > “Oh my, my, what have I done to my precious little—and > to poor deluded—? I wanted justice for both but I have failed. > I have harmed them both when I wanted so much to help > them both ….” > Much of what she said has left me but her sincere grief, > her deep sorrow, the baring of her breast to accept the darts > of criticism and blame for something she could not be held > responsible for—all these have left a lasting impression on > me. She wanted to make amends and I tried to convince her > that she was not to blame. > “I should have been wiser—I should have understood the > situation better ….” > At last I left her to her prayers and Bahá’u’lláh. As I walked > down the hall I felt as though I had been in the presence of > a martyr. > Edith McLaren1 > In those struggling years Dorothy often came to me in a > dream which always gave me new courage to carry on. Once > > Edith McClaren pioneered to Latin America and served as a member of > the Auxiliary Board. Her posts included Honduras, Guatemala, Nicaragua, > and Venezuela. > > she loaned me her glasses. When I put them on they were > rose-colored! This was at a time when the problems seemed > insurmountable in the community of many capable, > strongminded people. I got the point of that dream as soon > as I awakened and took a fresh heart. > A letter from Dorothy > —honey, > Back from Canada and have both your letter and card; > the latter just arrived this morning. > Now dear, let’s just look at this thing sensibly. Human > personality is a curious thing. It graduates from kindergar- > ten to university in one of the spiritual fine arts, and lags > perhaps in the third grade in another. If all the Bahá’ís were > in the university in all of the fine arts you and I would have > practically no problems. But it isn’t so, and knowing this, I > don’t see how you can afford right now to try to expose your > bad health and delicate nervous system to the variables ex- > isting within our evolving groups. If a good doctor has sug- > gested dropping the thing and becoming inactive, I think > you are absolutely justified in doing just that. I wouldn’t > withdraw membership (unless at some time you already > have), but rather I would quietly retire from the entire situ- > ation and drop it completely from your mind. > Do you think that your formal relationship to the Cause > interests the Beloved at a time like this? I don’t. I think you > are a human soul, a tender, delicate human soul, who can’t > stand the kind of evolution we are now going through, to- > ward a larger collective life. And I don’t think He wants you > harassed by it for a minute. Turn your heart to Him and be > happy in Him; use His prayers, read His Word; go your way, > > 39. Elisabeth Cheney in 1944 with friends gathered in Wilmette, > Illinois (Elisabeth is seated in the second row, far right). Dorothy > Baker is seated in the first row, third from left. > > and live your life. He understands. You can count on > it; He understands. > Keep the old chin up. Much love, and write when you > feel like it, always of happy, positive things; plans, observa- > tions, hopes, daily work, etc. The secret is that every day a > new world is born. > Love, Dorothy > > Excerpts of letters from Dorothy Baker to Elisabeth Cheney > during Elisabeth’s time as a pioneer in Paraguay > > Dec. 19, 1940 > My Beloved Elisabeth, > Never in Lima’s little history has the going away of any- > one left such a hole in the middle of things. Everywhere > Elisabeth is on every pair of lips. … > > Feb. 22, ‘41 > … Your last letter was put in my hands just as I was leaving > Lima again. This is my first stop and I hasten to tell you > what has been flooding my heart. It seemed to me just like > Keith R. Kehler who became a Hand of the Guardian just at > the very time she felt she had failed …. > … It was as if every breath of inspiration was crushed > from her, and she experienced that “zero hour” you men- > tion …. The station of true martyrdom is a glorious, lonely > thing (seen on this plane), a trek through wilderness other > feet have not beaten down. How can anyone but One ac- > company you, shining herald? Who else is big enough? … > > June 17, 1941 > … The NSA passed the return of the Paraguay Angel with > deep regret, and a strange little silence seemed to pervade > the room that made me weep inwardly without knowing > why. … I love you so, my glorious Elisabeth. And it is > with a tender, weeping affection that looks to God and im- > plores only the highest destiny. … > > And that pen of yours; oh my Elisabeth—you would have > been tempted to pride if you could have heard Horace Holley, > the human pen of North America, say in the midst of your > letter, “God, that girl can write.” I think it was when you > said, “In Paraguay, when the sun shines, there is thunder on > the horizon.” Bowled ‘ern over! > … Heart’s love, > Dorothy > Edna Andrews > I remember well the day, soon after my son died from a > drowning accident, she said, “Come, let’s go to a movie, > today we will laugh and have fun.” And we did. And I was > happy. She seemed to know intuitively one’s needs, and was > quick to do something to relieve the pressure, to fill the need. > She was the epitome of gentleness, yet at the same time > firm as a rock. Nothing ever deterred her from doing that > which she felt was needed. … One did not have to tell her > how one felt, she knew, and did just the right thing at the > right moment to bring relief to an anguished heart, or a > troubled mind. … She never criticized—she was never critical > of another’s weakness. She always seemed to understand the > motives of another person’s actions. … > For weeks after the drowning accident which took the life > of my seventeen-year-old son, I had been tortured by the > same dream … his dead body walking, trying to come to > me. I would waken, devastated by grief. I dreaded the com- > ing of each night. > One beautiful September morning Dorothy phoned me > and asked me to have lunch with her. After lunch she sug- > > gested we sit out in her yard by the lily pool in the garden. It > was quiet and cool there and very peaceful, little gold fish > swam lazily in the clear water among the lily pads; a gentle > caressing breeze moved through the branches of the shade > trees. > Without preamble, Dorothy said, “Edna, you are sad. > What is bothering you?” Then I told her of the devastating > dreams which came night after night. She looked at me, very > intently for a long moment, then with infinite love in her > eyes, she gently touched my hand. Then in the most natu- > ral, conversational tone of voice she prayed that these dreams > would be removed, and that I would know a lasting peace. > To this day there has never been another distressing dream. > And peace did come to my heart, an abiding, continuing, > blessed peace. > Doris McKay > … I pray that through that pure spirit [Dorothy] God will > endow me with her chief and outstanding quality: sincerity. > A woman who was living at the Bakers at the time told me > that when she first met Dorothy she would not believe she > was real. Finally she went to work for her for three years and > never once in that time did Dorothy fail in the least degree > to exemplify the station which she had chosen to occupy. > That is a startling achievement, when you think of it. > Margaret Ruhe > In a letter she sent me on July 13, 1940, on Race Unity > matters, she wrote at the end, “Above all, do not be discour- > aged. The immortal Martha used to say that the great secret > lay in two things: first, never to miss the very smallest op- > > portunity, and second to be conscious of wearing the mantle > of Bahá’u’lláh Himself while working. The Master once said > that the people are really like birds who are listening eagerly > for the voice of the Master Bird, and that if you know this, > you will have the right attitude of friendliness and charm. > They will thank you through all eternity. May the spirit of > the Blessed Perfection go with you. With Bahá’í love, Dor- > othy Baker.” > Mary Lou Ewing > There was an interesting sternness and penetration about > Dorothy. I have only met one person in my entire life who > knew Dorothy who was not entirely devoted to her. It was > very evident that that person had a rather strong ego and > was jealous. She would say, “Well of course Dorothy can > accomplish what she does because of her wealth and free- > dom.” > In trying to show this person her real love, in spite of the > criticism and resistance, Dorothy one day spontaneously gave > her a truly precious gift—precious in the material sense. Later > on that person was again openly critical of Dorothy, and > suggested that Dorothy protected people she loved. It was > possibly the only time I saw anger in Dorothy. She said, > more or less, “This is spiritual blackmail. She should not > have accepted my gift if she could not accept my sincere > intention and love.” That was the end of that. There was no > further discussion of the matter. > Paraphrased from an unsigned letter > Dorothy had a radio script with her in Providence, Rhode > Island and I accompanied her for an interview with the sta- > > tion manager. He took one look at the Bahá’í title and then > said, “Well, I’ll read this and let you know.” He had been > informed that Dorothy was there for only two days. > In a pleasant, firm voice Dorothy said, “Oh, give that back > to me,” at the same time giving the manager a meaningful > glance. With the same knowing look and smile the manager > handed the script back to Dorothy. He knew that she knew > he had no intention of putting it on the air and much time > was saved. I might have waited around for days, but Dor- > othy had practical wisdom. > Charlotte Stirrat1 > Being head and shoulders spiritually above others, she was a > target for jealousy. She used to have many unpleasant things > happen because of the jealousy of others. She’d come > home—Frank would console her—joke with her and say: > “It’s good to have something like this to suffer for. Imagine > your chagrin and remorse when you arrive in the next world > and you have nothing to say to Bahá’u’lláh when he says, > ‘What have you suffered for My Cause?’ Now you have some- > thing to say.” > Dorothy Campbell Rougeou2 > In January of 1942 I was invited to a Bahá’í lecture in Jack- > son, Mississippi. I had never heard of the Faith and knew > > Charlotte Stirrat, a Bahá’í who, during her long and devoted years of > service to the Faith, pioneered in both Europe and Africa, beginning in 1947. > In Africa she lived in Mozambique and Swaziland and is now serving in > Namibia. > Dorothy Campbell Rougeou moved to South America in 1950 to assist in > > nothing whatever about it. The ladies who welcomed us at > the door of the ballroom were most gracious and I kept look- > ing at them after I was seated for they had some quality I > couldn’t place. They seemed so relaxed and happy but there > was great dignity. Soon a beautiful tall blonde was intro- > duced as the speaker for the evening—Mrs. Dorothy Baker— > and she said that she would like to begin the meeting with a > prayer revealed by Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Faith.* > We were all seated and after the prayer had begun I found > myself shaking all over and finally had to hold onto the seat > of the chair to try to control the shaking. My first thought > was that I had a deep chill, but as the prayer ended, the > shaking subsided. I was so shaken that I don’t remember > much of what she said, but before she stopped talking, she > said that the Bahá’ís believed that this was the Word of God > for today, and as always with the creative Word of God, it > had the power to change our lives. She challenged us to buy > a Bahá’í prayer book, read it for fifteen minutes a day for > two weeks and then we would be unable to live without it. > Being a good Baptist, I had never read a prayer book in my > life, but I found her challenge so extraordinary that I de- > cided to buy a prayer book and read it and find out for my- > self if what she said was true. Needless to say, after two weeks > of reading the prayers, I never stopped and found that I had > been changed, my heart cleansed of negative emotions, and > ready to study the Bahá’í Teachings. After a few months of > intensive reading, study and prayer, I accepted the Faith. … > > * > the growth of the Faith there. Her record of service includes membership on > several South American National Spiritual Assemblies, most often as Secre- > tary. She finally returned to the United States in 1973 to marry her sweetheart > from 1930. > > The first night, after the public meeting, I went home > and began to read some of the prayers. One that I read— > the Tablet of Aḥmad—had this statement: “He who turneth > away from this Beauty hath also turned away from the Mes- > sengers of the past and showeth pride toward God from all > eternity to all eternity.” That rocked me and I knew I had to > find out for myself if Bahá’u’lláh was the Messenger of God > for today, and if He was, then I wanted to be His follower. I > was blessed to be able to recognize Him and shall always be > grateful to Dorothy Baker for awakening my sleeping soul > on that January evening in 1942. > Hazel Little1 > I recall one time when Dorothy, looking so pretty, made a > public talk in the Crystal Room of the Argonne Hotel. She > wore a long coral dress and looked just radiant. When it was > over, Dorothy came walking down the center aisle almost in > tears, and said to her Bahá’í friends, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I > didn’t present Bahá’u’lláh well. I got in the way.” Yet she, to > me, was perfect. So pretty, so knowledgeable, so kind, so > selfless. > > Hazel Little, a teacher who learned about the Faith from Dorothy Baker, > she moved to Tucson and served on the Local Spiritual Assembly of Pima > County. > > Artemus Lamb1 > At another early Convention, I think in 1943, after I had > given a very inadequate little talk about the work of the Re- > gional Committee in the Rocky Mountain area, Dorothy > came up to me to tell me very lovingly, but emphatically, > that she was so happy to “feel my spirit of service.” This > expression struck me, and, I might add, her kind but sincere > words encouraged me to greater service. Later I perceived > that her constant endeavor seemed to be to encourage the > Bahá’ís to greater service. … > Once in Denver, Colorado, I presented her to a very small > group called the Religious Tolerance Society. It was really > not a very inspiring occasion, but as Dorothy talked, this > mysterious flowing eloquence began to surge and quickly > everyone was enraptured. At the end, one gentleman—a > rather analytical and cold intellectual, not in any way a spiri- > tual or emotional type, spoke up, obviously highly moved. > He said in essence that certain people have been given great > “gifts” and to Dorothy had been given the “gift” of eloquence. > Hazel Little > [At] my first meeting with [Dorothy], Eleanor Kepfer and I > joined her for lunch at an oriental tearoom. I remember say- > ing to her, “This faith sounds good. I can accept it, but I > > Artemus Lamb, an American pioneer and a member of the Continental > Board of Counselors who served for years in Central America. Before he died > he accomplished his life long dream of completing a history of the Bahá’í Faith > in Latin America > > can’t give up Jesus.” Dorothy, gently smiling, said softly and > kindly, “My dear Hazel, you don’t have to. This simply adds > on to your Christian faith.” > Yet, even so, my attraction to beloved Dorothy was such > that I made myself stay away from her for one year to make > sure that it was the song she sang and not infatuation with > the songstress that drew me. Indeed she was my spiritual > mother. > Belinda Elliot1 > This particular evening [Dorothy] was speaker for a fireside > at the home of Philip Sprague. … Afterward I couldn’t > leave her. She was staying at a hotel in Greenwich Village > and I trailed along when we left the meeting. There was a > small, old-fashioned drugstore across from the hotel, the kind > of place that had little round marble-top tables where ice > cream was served. > Dorothy suggested we go in for a soda. As I remember my > times with her it seems she had such influence over me that > I was almost entranced. Another person who had the same > effect was Madame Ali-Kuli Khan, Marzieh Gail’s mother. I > could hardly be in their presence without weeping. > That evening in the Village is as clear to me now as though > it happened only a couple of years past, rather than all those > years ago, probably because of what she said to me as we sat > at our small table. Without preamble Dorothy looked at me > very seriously and said, “Sara Ellen (my name then), you > must always remain steadfast in the Faith. No matter what > > Belinda Elliot moved to several homefront pioneer posts in order to assist > different communities. > > happens in your life, remain steadfast. Because as the first > believer in your family you carry a great responsibility.” > She had my full attention. All I could do was stare at her > beautiful face. So smooth, so lit from within. She was wear- > ing dark blue and a small veil on her hat of that color came > down over her eyes. Then she explained that the first be- > liever at the time of the coming of any Manifestation of > God, has the privilege of interceding for the direct members > of their family for many generations. She said at the time of > Moses it was four generations forward and four generations > back. At the time of Christ, it was five generations forward > and five generations back. At the time of Muḥammad it was > six generations forward and six generations back. But in this > day, the day of the Glory of God, the first believer in each > family has the privilege of interceding before Him for the > direct members of their family for seven generations for- > ward and seven generations back. > That is exactly the way she said it to me. I can still see > Dorothy’s finger as she traced in a forward and backward > motion on the table top, the direction of the generations. > This information had a stunning and overwhelming effect > upon me. Tears streamed down. I just kept watching her > face, spellbound. She fascinated me. It is easier now to un- > derstand it was an irresistible spiritual attraction before which > I was speechless. There was nothing for me to say. > Others felt her spiritual force, too. I’ve watched her sway > large audiences, bring them to their feet after a speech. Dor- > othy Baker’s talent was so special. That night in Greenwich > Village will be remembered for all time. The sudden knowl- > edge of the responsibility laid upon me as a first believer, > surely has had a steadying effect all my Bahá’í life. … > Our wonderful session together was brought to a close > > with these generous words. “You see in our family neither > Louise nor I have this privilege, because in our family Mother > Beecher has this distinction. She was the first believer.” > Louise Baker Matthias > Do you remember how James Farley, who was postmaster > general under Roosevelt, was known for his ability to recall > everyone’s name? He trained himself to do this. Mother was > impressed. I remember her talking about it. She made a very > conscious, concentrated effort to associate the names and > faces of her fellow Bahá’ís so that she could honor them in > this way. > Marion Yazdi1 > In 1943–44, the centenary year, the Bahá’ís of Berkeley, > California had a year-long teaching campaign, the highlight > of which was Dorothy Baker’s one-day Berkeley visit, Sep- > tember 23, 1943. Dorothy gave talks continuously from the > time she arrived until late at night. A letter I wrote to my > parents a week later best describes that day and the follow- > ing two days: > “The day Dorothy Baker was here in Berkeley was > one of the most exciting days of my life. A number of > us met her at the train. There was just time (the train > > Marion Yazdi was the first Bahá’í student at the University of California at > Berkeley, and at Stanford University in 1923. For her story of these times, see > Marion C. Yazdi, Youth in the Vanguard, Wilmette: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, > 1982. > > being an hour and a half late) to drive her to her first > engagement—speaking to University of California stu- > dents at the Race Relations luncheon. … > “While she was speaking there, I pressed her dress > for her afternoon engagement, wrote publicity for the > newspaper on her radio talk and took it to the office, > went to the Berkeley Book Guild and encouraged them > to put out more chairs, called on two people to go to > the talk, and got ready myself. > “The afternoon talk was very good and well attended > (New Trends in Race Relations). One woman called > me afterwards and said it was one of the richest experi- > ences of her life. > “After the club talk about ten of the people came > down here (2910 Telegraph) with Dorothy Baker (I > quickly made lemonade). Dorothy gave another talk > out in the court and everyone was completely happy. > “Then we went to the Women’s City Club. Ali > (Yazdi) was chairman, and Dorothy spoke after dinner > very delightfully. Then after some had gone she again > drew us around her and told stories until we really had > to stop her to save her for the date (Symposium) the > next night. > “The Symposium … was an outstanding success. > The place was filled, probably eight hundred or more. > I think we had over one hundred there from Berkeley. > “Mrs. Cooper gave a tea for a small group of special > guests on Saturday. I was on the committee for it and > invited some people who enjoyed it enormously. It was a > very lovely affair at the Women’s City Club in San Fran- > cisco. That day Dorothy gave the best talk of all, I > thought.” > > San Francisco Chronicle, September 15, 1943 > > THE BAHÁ’Í SYMPOSIUM > “RACIAL EQUALITY ESSENTIAL TO WORLD ORDER” > The new world order that will emerge at the end of the war > will not endure peacefully, if based on military force and > political strength alone, but in addition must consider the > religious rights and racial equality of mankind. > That was the composite opinion expressed by four speak- > ers last night on a symposium conducted in the Palace Ho- > tel under auspices of the Bahá’í movement in San Francisco. > Speakers included Mrs. Dorothy Beecher Baker, a member > of the national assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States > and Canada; Attorney General Robert W. Kenny, the Rev. > Dr. Rudolph L. Coffee, president of the Temple of Reli- > gion, and Robert B. Flippin, director of the Booker T. Wash- > ington Center here. > Of the Bahá’í Faith, founded 100 years ago in Persia by > Bahá’u’lláh, Mrs. Baker said: > “It was scourged, impaled, imprisoned, beaten, shot, > lied about and suppressed at every turn, an infant pattern > against which governments and religions hurled their east- > ern fury. From these things it emerged unified and un- > compromising, a World Faith dedicated to the ideal of a > single humanity conscious of the Fatherhood of a single > God.” > Isobel Sabri1 > I first met Dorothy Baker in the spring of 1945 when she > came to San Francisco to be one of the Bahá’í speakers at a > > Isobel Locke in 1945. See also Chapter 18. > > special public meeting sponsored by the Local Spiritual As- > sembly in conjunction with the international conference at > which the United Nations was formed. A number of the > Conference delegates had been invited by the Bahá’í Com- > munity to a special banquet and were later seated on the > platform during the public meeting. Marion Holley (later > Hofman) was the Chairman of the meeting which was also > addressed by a professor of Political Science from Stanford > University. Dorothy spoke very impressively about the spiri- > tual foundations of universal peace. > After the meeting Leroy and Sylvia Ioas invited a sizeable > group of people for coffee and ice cream at a nearby restau- > rant. I was not yet a Bahá’í and had come up from Stanford > with Farrukh Ioas, the elder Ioas daughter, who had intro- > duced and strongly attracted me to the Faith some weeks > earlier. I sat next to Dorothy, and among other subjects she > spoke of having been very ill recently. This particularly at- > tracted my attention as I also had been and still was quite ill. > Dorothy impressed on me the importance of overcoming > any such barriers. She said that one must just go ahead and > do whatever needed doing, knowing that God would give > you the necessary strength. She said that she had never al- > lowed her ill health to stand in the way of her serving the > Faith. This was a valuable lesson which I have taken to heart > with good effect through many years. > Dorothy came to Stanford a few days later for a luncheon > speaking engagement arranged by Farrukh Ioas at the Lagun- > ita Residence for women students where we both lived. About > fifteen students were seated at a specially arranged table in > the dining hall, but by the end of Dorothy’s talk which took > place after lunch the table was also ringed by standing stu- > dent-waiters—all thoroughly engrossed in the lively ques- > tion period. Marion Holley had driven Dorothy down from > > San Francisco, and Farrukh and I had the blessing of spend- > ing the whole of that afternoon in conversation about the > Faith with these two outstandingly knowledgeable women. > I also attended teaching meetings in San Mateo and San > Francisco at which Dorothy spoke during that visit to Cali- > fornia. It was not so much what Dorothy said as how she > said it. She had a very spiritual presentation which conveyed > to the listener the deep quality of her faith. She had absolute > confidence in what the Faith would mean to the world—a > certitude similar in nature to that which I later witnessed in > the beloved Guardian Shoghi Effendi. > Dorothy Baker quoted by Hazel Mori > “Truly it is not how much time you spend reading the Writ- > ings, it is how much you think about what you have read. I > find it best to choose each morning some one phrase, some > one quotation from the Writings, and then carry it with me > all day, thinking about it at odd moments. That way I have > it in my memory and in my heart. You try it, and pretty > soon you will be full of the Words of Bahá’u’lláh, right up to > your ears—so full that they have to come out your mouth!” > From Mrs. Louise R. Eddy > She was scheduled to speak in the city of Highland Park, > Michigan at the YWCA on the Bahá’í Faith. I sat enthralled > by her personage, by her words, by the glow on her face, by > everything about her. After the meeting, I went up to the > stage to ask her a question which was of tremendous impor- > tance, of course, to me and which she must have had to > > answer everywhere she went. I asked her if I should become > a Bahá’í? I had spent months agonizing over this. My family > had been Episcopalians for three hundred years and tho I > had broken with them to become a Unity student, a Unitar- > ian, I had still remained a Christian. She must have sensed > my anxiety. She came down from the stage and coming up > to me placed her hands on my shoulders, looked deeply into > my eyes, smiled and said very gently, “You will be a Bahá’í. > You have the Bahá’í eyes already.” That calm manner, that > sweet voice and smile, that soul searching look took away all > my stress, my feelings of doubt, my weariness and I had my > answer. I became a Bahá’í in May of 1947. > Doris McKay > I have concluded that we have to take one role only … and > that, the one where we do the most effective work. Dorothy > Baker has done that. I knew the old “Dorothies” who had to > leave. She is like a candle sacrificing herself to the Light. We > had breakfast together in Toronto and again she laid bare > her heart to me. She told me about riding home with Frank > and Louise and loving them and knowing that again she > must leave them, and unconsciously moaning so that they > heard her and how their glad chatter was stilled until she > gaily reassured them. But Frank knew! He just patted her > shoulder. > > Chapter 17 > Teacher and administrator, 1944–51 > If the time and effort Dorothy exerted for the Faith between her > forty-fifth and fifty-second birthdays could be cut like a pie, one > half would be North American activity and the other travels > abroad. Work on the homefront, in the United States and Canada, > would have to be divided again into two equally substantial > wedges: teaching and administration. Dorothy diligently carried > her weight and more on committees and institutions of the Bahá’í > Cause. But from the beginning her real joy was teaching, seeing > doubt, frustrated anger, or phlegmatic calm dissolve as people > were exposed to the Revelation of Bahá’u’lláh. She spoke with > great love and eloquence, but she took praise reluctantly. For her, > adulation had become a necessary by-product of the goal: allow- > ing people to hear the message of her Lord. Junie (Katherine) > Faily Perot recalled seeing Dorothy Baker angry only once, at > Louhelen. Dorothy felt the chairman made too much of her. She > commented, “No one is that good. You praise me too much be- > cause I go around and speak a lot. Frank is a better Bahá’í than I > am, because he does not go around talking.” > Lenore Bernstein also noted Dorothy’s very deep sense of hu- > mility. She once heard Dorothy remark, “It should be Frank, not > I, who stands in the limelight, for if it were not for Frank’s sup- > port and understanding, I could not travel or teach at all.” > And speak she did, thanks to him, and thanks to her own efforts, > for the glory of her Lord. One hundred years after the Báb de- > > clared His mission, one hundred years after He fulfilled the promise > of the world’s sacred books, Dorothy spoke at the House of Wor- > ship in Wilmette. > Usually Dorothy was careless about her own privacy, except > for prayer. Just a few nights before her talk, Dorothy slipped into > Emma Rice’s hotel room, whispering through the dark to Emma, > who was already in bed, “May I come in with you? I hope you > don’t mind, but my daughter can’t find a room so I’m letting her > share mine with Frank.” Early the next morning Dorothy disap- > peared into the bathroom saying, “Wait for me and we’ll go to > breakfast together.” Her ease at sharing Emma’s quarters, her > friendly suggestion of breakfast together made Emma, although > she was already hungry, change her mind and sit down on the > unmade bed for what she assumed would be the length of time > required for a short shower. > A half hour later she was beginning to feel a hollow grinding in > her stomach as she dimly realized, no sound of running water yet > heard, that Dorothy must have gone into the bathroom for her > prayers. Time in the clockless room dragged on as Emma waited. > She wondered if a knock on the bathroom door would be appro- > priate or if she should simply leave a note and go on down to > breakfast. > Just at the point of putting one plan or the other into action, > the door swung open and Dorothy emerged, an aura of zeal and > charged energy surrounding her. “Shall we?” Emma eagerly agreed > they should. > At the table, Dorothy neither concentrated on her meal nor > cherished a few comfortable moments with her friend. Emma > noticed, “She ate nothing, really, because she was too busy greet- > ing people, answering questions and radiating joy and happiness > round about. That was Dorothy, God bless her!” > The only times Dorothy kept strictly for herself were the hours > > spent in prayer, meditation, or study. And those periods were usu- > ally in the early morning, when other activities didn’t make de- > mands. > But on the afternoon of May 22, 1944 having asked to be > released for the rest of the day from her duties at the Convention, > Dorothy avoided lunch with friends and retreated instead to her hotel room. > She felt the most important talk of her life was to be given that > night at the Bahá’í House of Worship. The occasion was the cen- > tenary anniversary of the Declaration of the Bab. Before the pro- > gram of readings took place at 9:40 P.M. under the great dome, a > public meeting was to be held in Foundation Hall, where she and > two others would present the Bahá’í Faith. Dorothy felt it was > vital, for the success of her talk, to prepare herself spiritually. > With The Dawn-Breakers on her lap she sat quietly in the room. > Frank, her devoted protector, stood watch in the hall during lunch > and the afternoon break so that admiring, zealous friends, eager > and importunate, could not present themselves at her door. To > the urgent pleas for exception in one case or another, Frank was > stoic and firm. No one saw or spoke to Dorothy. > Mid-afternoon Frank drove her to the beauty salon, where > Dorothy continued to read while having her hair washed and set, > avoiding even the friendliest of frivolous chatter. She did not want > anyone or anything to dim her heart, and tried instead to “strain > every nerve to acquire inward and outward perfections.” She did > not want to chance diminishing the power of the spirit she prayed > would flow through her that night. Back at the hotel, after a last > check of the long white dinner gown bought for the occasion and > the final decision on what jewelry to wear, Dorothy settled down > for several hours of uninterrupted prayer, study, and supplica- > tion. > For Louise Baker, newly arrived home from her pioneer post, > > the evening was distinctly memorable. “Foundation Hall was > overflowing; those who came too late to find seats stood to hear > the words of the evening’s speakers. For the first time a public > address system was set up to carry even outside Foundation Hall > so all who gathered could hear.” Three individuals spoke: Horace > Holley, the author of several books of poetry and prose, also at > the time a member of the National Spiritual Assembly; Dr. Harry > Allen Overstreet, a well-known writer of the day; and Dorothy. > George Latimer, another member of the National Spiritual As- > sembly, served as chairman of the Convention and of the public > meeting. He introduced Dorothy first. She rose from her chair. > Like a tall white candle glowing at the front of the room, she > moved toward the podium on that, the first night of the second > century of the Bahá’í Faith. Radiant with the power and majesty > of the historic moment, Dorothy spoke: > Religion is progressive, rushing forward like a giant river > from God to the ages, watering the arid centuries to produce > flowering civilizations and holy lives. God speaks, and the > merciless opposers of His truth are swept into the limbo of > the forgotten, while out of the lives of the martyr-revelators > moves the age-old, twofold process of the fall of an old or- > der of things, and the rise of a believing people, endowed > with the power to carry forward an ever-advancing civiliza- > tion. …1 > Dorothy manifested the very power of which she spoke: the power > that enables believers in God and His progressive plan for hu- > mankind to carry forward that potent, ever-advancing civiliza- > tion. She spoke of the Founders of the world’s great religions, of > their gifts to civilization. Foundation Hall quivered with the shim- > mering vision Dorothy projected of God’s kingdom, finally come. > > Dorothy Baker, Religion Returns (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Committee, 1945). > > She closed: > The religion of our fathers returns, opening a new chapter > of revelation, and revealing a newly ordered world, to which > the prophetic welcome of the Báb calls all who are gathered > in this commemorative place: “Enter therein in peace, se- > cure.” > The account in Bahá’í News continues the description of the > evening’s events: > After the public meeting, we walked up the white path in > the darkness, up the steps and through one of the nine great > portals. The vast space beneath the Dome was packed with > Bahá’ís. I wished the Guardian could have been here to see > them, to see all these souls across the earth, who have grown > out of the words that the Báb spoke in Shíráz a hundred > years ago tonight.1 > Following the commemoration Dorothy went to Amelia Col- > lins’ hotel, her eyes very bright, and whispered, “Get out of bed, > Millie! We’re praying all night.”2 The joy must have filled the hearts > of these two future Hands of the Cause, bowed down in adora- > tion on the one hundredth anniversary of the dawn of their Faith. > The talk Dorothy gave that evening was published in World > Order magazine under the title “Religion Comes Again to Man- > kind,” then as a pamphlet called Religion Returns. This was the > second pamphlet written by Dorothy to be released in the mid- > forties, following The Victory of the Spirit.3 In July of 1944 Dor- > > Marzieh Gail, “Impressions of the Centenary,” in Bahá’í News, no. 170 (Sept. > 1944), p. 15. > Notes from Nancy Phillips. > See Appendix I, pp. 499–534. > > othy also spoke at a special Centenary Conference arranged by > the National Spiritual Assembly for delegates from five Latin > American countries who had been unable to attend the commemo- > ration in May. > National work, teaching on other continents, the needs of com- > munities in the United States—all of these concerns and the con- > comitant days and months of effort they demanded sometimes > made Dorothy unsure which areas should receive her most con- > centrated attention. She even asked friends in Lima to please con- > sider her situation when they elected the next Local Spiritual As- > sembly, as she was a member of the National Spiritual Assembly, > the Local Spiritual Assembly of Lima, and numerous commit- > tees. Because of their concern for her well-being she was not re- > elected to the Local Spiritual Assembly. Relieved but feeling guilty, > she wrote to the Guardian for his opinion of her action. He wrote > back that Dorothy should not have encouraged the friends not to > vote for her; in Bahá’í elections individuals should feel free to > vote for whomever they choose. The next Riḍván Dorothy shared > his guidance, but, still aware of her multiple responsibilities, the > Bahá’ís again did not elect Dorothy to the Lima Assembly. > Even without local administrative responsibilities, the needed > balance was missing in Dorothy’s life and she knew it. Europe > beckoned, as did South America, where Edmund and Muriel > Miessler, Louise Baker, and Elisabeth Cheney pioneered, all from > the area Dorothy once felt was barren territory: Lima, Ohio. The > pioneers had clear-cut work before them, but Dorothy felt the > pulling need of every front. > Still questioning where her fractioned energies should be con- > centrated, she put the matter to Shoghi Effendi in a letter written > February 17, 1947. The National Teaching Committee had asked > her to consider giving up one year of other teaching to concen- > trate totally on North America, as many groups and assemblies > seemed to need assistance. > > 40. July 9, 1944: Bahá’í representatives from Latin America— > both native believers and pioneers—with the National Spiritual > Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada. > His answer begged her not to “over-tax your strength, but rather > save it for your essential work on the NSA and in such important > fields as Europe.” In his wisdom Shoghi Effendi kept Dorothy > from personally tackling the problems of groups and assemblies > from New England to Arizona. > But in her “home” state of Ohio, the land she had dreaded > from afar twenty years before, Dorothy could not resist taking an > active part in the teaching. Her response to Bahá’u’lláh’s call to > love the people of the world would not let her discontinue the > > tending and nurturing of Bahá’í communities in the cities and > hamlets and farmlands of that state. She did so with the patience > of a gardener who knows that, as surely as midday follows dawn, > with time and attention planted seed will grow. She often para- > phrased a passage from the Psalms, “In this day, no seed shall be > lost.” Hinckley, Medina, Granger, or Findlay, the villages and > townships of Ohio received the same scrupulous devotion as na- > tional talks and the international travel that she began in the 1940s. > Dorothy’s prominence in the North American Bahá’í commu- > nity meant little to the souls she tried to reach. That she was a > member of the National Spiritual Assembly of one of the largest > and most active Bahá’í communities in the world, that her name > was reverently spoken by numerous Bahá’ís on that continent and > others hardly mattered when she approached, as every Bahá’í has > and will again, souls shrouded with their own doubts. > Some people she spoke with, befriended, and set her heart’s > hopes on came into the Faith; a few others left. In Findlay, Ohio, > a woman who had seemed devoted suddenly dropped her mem- > bership. She explained her decision by saying she felt the Bahá’ís > adored Dorothy Baker too much. > Dorothy and other Lima Bahá’ís, with the help of Ruth Moffett > from Chicago, opened Findlay to the Faith in 1947. In 1950 Dor- > othy had notices printed inviting the citizens of Findlay to attend > talks at the local YMCA on Saturday nights. The notices, which > were widely distributed in the little town, began, > Dear Friends: > The classes you have been looking for start next Saturday > evening and you are invited to be there. > > and ended with a list of the topics Dorothy planned to address in > the six lectures: > > The Art of Being Happy > The Bibles of Mankind > Features of the New Civilization > The Races of Man (Illustrated) > Why Belief in Immortality > The Forward Look > Hardly anyone came, but after the first class Dorothy touched > local Bahá’ís Howard and Nellie Duff by anxiously asking, “Do > you think I did all right? Do you think it will do any good?” > Though few people attended the meetings, Nellie’s friends re- > sponded in what for Findlay seemed a wholehearted way: they > told Mr. and Mrs. Duff they had seen the notices and knew the > Duffs were Bahá’ís. > As Howard Duff recalled it, “Teachers from Lima held classes > for some of us for two winters, and they were not mild winters > either.” Those were cold months in more than one way. After the > first few meetings the Bahá’ís were told they could no longer use > the YMCA. One of the town leaders said it would be “like taking > the C out of YMCA,” never imagining he might be turning his > back on the very return his Lord promised. Still the Bahá’ís met > and said prayers together, gathering wherever they could. Howard > remembered Dorothy praying “with that glow in her face like > that on the face of a young girl in love for the first time. … That > was an angel, that woman!” > A few steadfast Bahá’ís from Findlay would drive to Lima for > special meetings. When they walked in the front door of the Bak- > ers’ house, Nellie Duff knew what it felt like to be a queen. “Dor- > othy would take us by the hands, sort of bow and say ‘Findlay!’ It > seemed something special.” What respect she had for those staunch > Bahá’ís who weathered the condemnation and the cold impassive > faces of their neighbors, greeting their spiritual recreation with > > grumbling doubts or active opposition. In Dorothy’s vision the > Bahá’ís of rural Ohio were Dawn-Breakers and she gave them her > best. > In the mid 1940s there were six Bahá’ís in Granger Township > and four in nearby Hinckley Township. The Bahá’ís, like their > neighbors, lived on farms spread across the fertile Ohio land, but > there were enough of them in the two areas to form a Local Spiri- > tual Assembly. Lillian Dake of Granger remembered the anxiety > and strong feelings roused among some of the Bahá’ís when they > found out they had to form separate Bahá’í communities and lose > their assembly. > About this time our beloved Guardian, Shoghi Effendi, > asked that each be divided into townships, cities, or munici- > palities and to work towards forming groups and assemblies. > This worked a hardship on us to some extent as being > new in the Faith threw us into confusion, so Dorothy Baker > was sent to us and we were asked to have a joint meeting, > which we did. > At this meeting held at the Reidel’s in their little Farm > Parlor, we all sat in a circle and Dorothy (as we all called > her) stated that we were to carry on in obedience with our > Guardian’s wishes and to work for additional members to > the Faith. > She then told us how to treat one the other and it was a > very valuable session as she told us this by not mentioning > any names. … That one should try to be obedient to the > letter of the law, but that in the growth of our groups or any > one that we must be patient, and to teach by love the funda- > mentals of the Faith, and that when this knowledge became > clear to one, he would then be obedient, that one should > not talk about any one or repeat gossip, for it hinders progress > > of the Faith, that we should only speak of the good one does > and enlarge on that and he will become encouraged and try > harder to do more. > That one should not be jealous of another, that there are > many ways one can serve the Cause of Bahá’u’lláh and that > one should encourage another to work in the Faith, that to > restrict one of the Group, the spirit is killed and no progress > will be made, that in fact it will kill the spirit of the group > and it will be caused to disperse. … > That it is each person’s duty to teach the Cause of Bahá’- > u’lláh in whatever manner he can. Some teach by actions > and others by pioneering, some only by hospitality, and oth- > ers financially, but that no matter how, each must sacrifice > to give something of themselves for that only brings happi- > ness and health on one or to a group. > What a bounty this meeting was to us and later Dorothy > Beecher Baker met at our homes many times and stayed at > mine as well as at the Herbert Kamps and the Bert Beach’s > … > Dorothy will always be remembered with fondness and > love by me and many a time I [still] see her as she washed > her hands at the lavatory and would with each ablution re- > peat the obligatory prayer, in the morning. > Another remembrance [is of] when she told us to work > and that making a mistake should not discourage us as she > had made errors when she first came into the Cause … > When I think of the many, many times she journeyed > forth [to] teach Bahá’u’lláh’s Cause of the Oneness of Man- > kind and the oneness of Religion and that Bahá’u’lláh was > the Christ returned as was promised, sacrificing self and fam- > ily and her utter devotion to the Bahá’í Cause, I am ashamed > to be called a follower of this Great Faith. > > She was so happy and contented doing His bidding that > herself was never thought of, but only the daily task of > living as best she could for the Cause. No time of the year or > weather or even sickness stopped her, she went forth cheer- > fully and gladly and joyously taught the beginners in the > Faith. > She not only was a Standard Bearer, but also helped to lift > the load of the weight on the weak and beginners in their > path of following the Lord of Hosts in this Day, and helped > to prepare them for the teaching of the Bahá’í Cause, to > work together and alone as best they could. > I am overcome with emotion as I think of the Bounties > bestowed upon us in this region, by the presence of strong > souls at the beginning of the Formative Age of the Bahá’í > Faith [such] as Dorothy Baker and Louis Gregory. > The little towns were segregated, but the Bahá’í Faith reached > across the racial divide. Mrs. Dake remembered Dorothy Baker > speaking of Louis Gregory to the rural Bahá’ís of her area. Dor- > othy said that Louis Gregory was the only person she knew of > who had been able to stay in the presence of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá for > more than twenty minutes while a Tablet was revealed to him— > the rest fainted. > The Bahá’ís of Hinckley and Granger decided it was time to > teach their dark skinned neighbors. Mrs. Dake arranged for Dor- > othy and Louis Gregory to speak before the black congregation of > the Second Baptist Church in Medina, Ohio. Mrs. Dake watched > as Dorothy “spoke so lovingly of Louis Gregory that tears came to > their minister’s eyes as she spoke of how ‘Abdu’l-Bahá placed him > at the Embassy table in Washington D.C.” > In Lima the Faith kept moving forward in spite of the barrier > of racism. The future Knight of Bahá’u’lláh Elsie Austin wrote: > > I first met Dorothy Baker when I was a young inquirer, re- > luctantly interested in the Faith because of its newness and > because I had reached the point of disbelief in the power of > religion to change people or social circumstances. The big- > otry and prejudice in the world seemed to me at that state to > be served by religion rather than diminished. > Mrs. Baker and Mr. Frank Baker lived in Lima, an insu- > lar, reactionary, small town in Ohio, a citadel of conserva- > tism and an area once identified with activities of the Klu > Klux Klan. In the rigid climate of this city Frank and Dor- > othy Baker had opened their home for Bahá’í meetings to > which all persons were welcome. Dorothy’s special radiance > of spirit and eloquence in speech made her home a site for > regional firesides to which believers and inquirers from ci- > ties and towns within a radius of fifty miles from Lima would > come. Here the Teachings were always earnestly and beauti- > fully presented. > This was the period of the early thirties, when racism and > bigotry were the accepted way of life, and people who did > not suffer from these blights did not often have the courage > of their convictions. Because of this atmosphere the courage > and stand for human unity which the Bakers took in open- > ing their home to teach a new Faith and to persons of many > races and backgrounds was a traumatic thing for Lima. The > comings and goings of so many different people attracted > much attention, yet the Bakers were never apologetic or fur- > tive in their efforts for the Faith. Their courage and their > sincerity gave real results, for nearly every person who went > to those firesides became a dependable and predictable Bahá’í. > The July 1944 issue of Bahá’í News shows Dorothy Baker in a > photograph of nine individuals, all dressed meticulously, the two > > men wearing suits, the women in corsages, pearls, or hats. These > were the speakers at a race unity banquet held in Lima. Two were > African-American women, one of them Frances Cotman. More > than fifty years later, her grandson, Dr. Ivan Louis Cotman, re- > called: > Charles, my grandfather, was a carpenter and night watch- > man at the Frank Baker Bakery which I often visited during > my teen years when I was sent from Detroit to visit my grand- > parents in the summers. As I understand it, it was my grand- > father who began to be interested in the Bahá’í Faith. > Frances, my grandmother, was a domestic for Dr. and > Mrs. Halfhill there, a local physician. I can’t recall her do- > ing anything besides being a domestic until later when she > started Cotman’s “That’s for Cats” cat hotel at 932 W. High > Street in 1947. > Neither had finished high school but when they passed > away I found books on Arabic. They had written Allah’- > u’Akbar and other Arabic words in the margin of the books. > Imagine—“Negroes” in the early fifties attempting to write > and read Arabic—very insightful. > My grandmother was very active in diverse Bahá’í activi- > ties including travelling to Bahá’í meetings in different cit- > ies. Apparently my grandmother accompanied Dorothy > Baker to a Bahá’í lecture at Kentucky State College, now > Kentucky State University, located in Frankfort, Kentucky, > the capital city. Kentucky State was then completely segre- > gated. > It was still segregated when I entered college there in 1958. > It is noteworthy that my grandmother accompanied Mrs. > Baker to an integrated affair in a period when nothing was > integrated, not even the bus station. I remember the bus > > station in Mount Sterling. My father said, “You sit over here. > This is where I have to live. Bobby Kennedy can tell you > where you can sit, but I’ve got to live here, so while you’re > here, you sit on the Negro side.” These were efforts, Mrs. > Baker’s efforts and my grandmother’s, at integration. > I have memories of visiting Lima in the summer and go- > ing to the Bahá’í Center, at the home of Frank and Dorothy > Baker, about 1953 or 1954. It was a two story house where > people met—brick. You went up the porch stairs, then there > was a room on either side of the entry hall. As I recall there > were a number of blacks and whites at these prayer meetings > and this assemblage of people would pray together. > It wasn’t like Buddhist chants, but there was a cadence, > one I remember clearly, my grandmother’s favorite which I > often quote, “Is there any remover of difficulties save God?” > That prayer is powerful. It’s a legacy Mrs. Baker and Mrs. > Cotman left to me and my generation. > I recall fondly my teen experiences in Lima, including > sunrise breakfast services with the Bahá’ís at Schoonover Park. > On Sunday mornings they’d go to the park and wait for the > sun to rise. They’d have all this good food, a pot luck break- > fast, picnic tables. My point is there was outdoor social in- > teraction between blacks and whites in that very socially re- > pressive town. Mrs. Baker and my grandmother were ad- > vanced in a very segregated, monolithic, repressive atmo- > sphere which I think says something about the Bahá’í Faith, > not to mention the valor of Dorothy Baker. > My grandfather told me about the Universal House of > Justice before he died. In 1994, while serving as Deputy Su- > perintendent of the Michigan Department of Education, I > accompanied a delegation of staff from the United States > House and Senate Committees to Haifa, Israel. On Mount > > Carmel, high above the Mediterranean, one can look out > and see all of Haifa. One’s attention is automatically drawn > to the golden dome of the Shrine of the Báb and the sur- > rounding gardens. I found it very emotional to realize again > these “uneducated Negroes” as they were called, living in > Lima, Ohio, of all places, would have an international per- > spective and the foresight to envision all that. I felt the Bahá’í > Faith broadened my grandparents’ perspective in a spiritual, > literary and geographical sense. > My brother Charles and I were raised as Roman Catho- > lics at my mother’s insistence. My mother had converted to > Roman Catholicism from the African Methodist Episcopal > Church, the AME church. > Some of the family ostracized my grandparents. My > mother would say things like, “Mama Frances has gone > crazy!” They just didn’t take time to understand what the > Bahá’í Faith was about. But it made sense to us. As a Unitar- > ian-Universalist, the notion of progressive revelation, of the > harmony of science and religion, of racial harmony: these > principles make sense to me. > Just a word about my father. To the day he died, I never > heard him talk about religion. I never knew what my father’s > religion was, but he always kept a picture of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá on > his dresser. My brother and I were dropped off at church on > Sundays, but he never went. I never saw him in a church. > But he would always pray, using one of those Bahá’í prayers. > I still have that picture, and his prayer book. > Allie Diehl heard of Bahá’u’lláh in Lima in 1947. Her memory > of Dorothy as a local community member stemmed solely from > the years when outside responsibilities were such that, logically, > > Dorothy couldn’t have had that much energy to devote to Lima. > But for her, placing the most important over the very important > did not necessarily mean grand scale teaching over small scale. > One night, what Allie described as “a typical fall Tuesday, early in > November 1947,” she met Dorothy. > I did not really wish to go to the Bahá’í meeting, but, be- > cause we had exhausted all the possible excuses for not go- > ing, my husband and I bowed to the inevitable. Really, I did > not want to go. I had heard that the speaker was a rather > wealthy person and I must admit that contact with other > “rich” ladies had not been a pleasant experience. Frankly, I > had a strong prejudice against most anyone “rich.” > It was a small fireside where all knew each other except I > did not know Mrs. Baker. (Those present were Joe Stahl, > Mildred Stahl, Lillian Wilson, Mrs. Baker and myself.) First > impressions can be powerful and I was struck with the > thought of how this sincere, beautiful lady could possibly > be associated with “rich” people. The economic barrier was > dissolved—instantly. The lesson, too, was powerful. After > being introduced as a person who would tell about the Bahá’í > Faith, Mrs. Baker said that she would try to tell the listeners > about the Bahá’í Faith. The word “try” stays with me today > because the illustration she gave was practical and meaning- > ful. > Gesturing with her fingers to form the shape of a small > box, she developed the idea that if she had a gift to give, it > might be in a box that big. That box could be wrapped in > beautiful paper with a beautiful bow. On the box could be a > card of greeting. Yet, to have the gift within, a person would > have to open the box himself. No one else could do this for > > the individual. Knowing the Bahá’í Faith is the same thing. > A person cannot be given this wonderful gift of God with- > out opening the box and taking the gift. > That fireside was long ago, but the impression of the com- > pelling personality has remained. I had experienced some- > thing that evening most people rarely have. I had met some- > one who could demonstrate her teachings through her own > life. > As a Bahá’í teacher, Dorothy had no equal. She gave me > an education that would shame many. Using the works of > the Guardian, she would use the technique of analyzing the > Writings by looking at parts of speech. We studied Pattern > of Bahá’í Life by listing the verbs, then the nouns, the adjec- > tives and the adverbs. Once the words were pointed out, > each would be counted and discussed. This has helped me > to memorize many of the prayers and given me a skill that is > invaluable. > Deepening classes would be on time, scholarly, and well- > organized. Outlining was the method used and encouraged. > She was well-prepared and would readily show the references > in the Writings. Impromptu questions on a personal level > were answered immediately, followed by a letter two or three > days later recapping her comments with a specific reference, > usually from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. The typewritten letter would > sometimes run two pages. > Dorothy always had time to see people who wanted spe- > cial help with personal problems. A call ahead for an ap- > pointment would assure time in either the library or Pull- > man at the Elm Street home/center. The interview was never > rushed and there was time to talk through the entire con- > cern. The advice given was solid and wise. I remember her > > constant admonition to obey the Administrative Order, re- > gardless of the demands placed upon the individual. > The supportive personal love that flowed back and forth be- > tween the Ohio friends was not marked by a perception on > Dorothy’s part of herself as the source. She was responsive. Her > role was not one of strict authority, but of a flexible partner in the > giving and receiving of knowledge and inspiration. > The closest role model Dorothy had was Mother Beecher. She > visited the cemetery in Lima where Mother Beecher lay buried > rather as if she were visiting a shrine. But Mother Beecher had > not dealt with the Administrative Order to the extent Dorothy > now did as the first female chairman of the National Spiritual > Assembly of the United States and Canada. No precedent had > been set in the Bahá’í community for how a woman should act > when dealing with responsibilities usually left to men. A com- > mon response is to take on a dominant attitude and subjugate > more delicate qualities. This stiffly defined approach, that women > with responsible positions should act like the men who held those > positions before them, did not find favor with Dorothy. She fluidly > combined the active, or “male,” and receptive, or “female,” as- > pects of her character, which allowed other men and women on > the National Spiritual Assembly the same freedom. Since often- > times the clarifying remark in consultation may come from the > humblest soul in any meeting, consistently taking on the role of > the wise one can be an act of ego rather than of wisdom. > As Bahíyyih Nakhjavání writes, “it is not who we are but what > we do in relation to each other that makes a jewel of our lives. No > individual, therefore, can symbolize the active force alone, or as- > sume the role of the receptive agent rigidly.”1 An inflexible, care- > fully crafted self-image as leader or follower, the kind of rigidity > > Bahíyyih Nakhjavání, Response (Oxford: George Ronald, 1981), pp. 33–34. > > often deemed necessary in the world, would have reduced rather > than enhanced Dorothy’s effectiveness. Instead, letting the needs > of the situation determine her action, allowing the force of truth > to have its impact, whether through herself or through another, > she did not slip behind a comfortable facade of authority figure > or of servile attendant. > Others’ perceptions of Dorothy and her own attitudes toward > herself as a follower of Bahá’u’lláh and as an administrator on > Bahá’í institutions give an interesting vision of how various quali- > ties must have combined to create the effectiveness of her admin- > istrative efforts. > Artemus Lamb > I have never been very adept at describing people, and when > it came to trying to describe Dorothy, I am sure my own > lack of capacity and experience prevented me from ad- > equately perceiving many of her qualities. I do know that I > and everyone I knew wanted to be with her at every possible > moment to try to imbibe a little of her knowledge, inspira- > tion, and love. … > At one of my first conventions in the USA … Dorothy > was chairman of the Convention. In her opening remarks > she stated that often it was thought that spirituality and > efficiency did not go together—that it was either one or the > other—however, she did not believe this was so, and she > hoped this Convention would be both spiritual and efficient. > Now as I write this, I realize that it was this balance in Dor- > othy that impressed me so greatly. > Hattie Chamberlin, a Bahá’í in Massachusetts > She was a dynamic and powerful teacher. I remember well, > > at a Convention in the Temple at Wilmette, Illinois when > volunteers were asked to pioneer to Africa—Dorothy im- > mediately went to one corner of the Foundation Hall and > said, “We’ll begin right here and form the line!” > Edna True1 > My next association with Dorothy was on the NSA. I was > elected in 1946. … In the early days my mother, Corinne > True, was elected chairman of the Temple Unity Commit- > tee. Dorothy was the first and until now the only woman > chairman of the NSA.2 She tossed it off. > Her sense of humor was simply superb. It trickled through > everything she did. I don’t care how serious, she always found > room for a little laugh. … So she took this in the same way. > She said, “Oh, the men can’t decide which one they want. > You watch me, Eddie. It3 will be one year—that’s all it will > last!” > The men on the NSA used to tease her a little bit, be- > cause she was rather extravagant sometimes in her vocabu- > lary. We went over one day (to an NSA meeting) right from > the Convention, where she had talked about Latin America. > She’d spoken of “girdles of immorality around South > America.” She used this expression and they never let her > forget it. And no one would laugh harder than she would at > > Edna True, daughter of the Hand of the Cause of God Corinne True, > served on the National Spiritual Assembly of the United States and on the > Continental Board of Counselors for North America and played a highly > influential role in teaching the Faith in Europe. > Judge Dorothy Nelson was elected to that position in 1988. > Dorothy’s chairmanship. > > herself. It was wonderful to see. They just loved to tease her > about the different expressions she would use! > Paul Haney,1 from a tape made in Haifa, Israel, May 1976 > I served with Dorothy from 1946 to 1953 on the United > States National Spiritual Assembly. She was a person of such > great qualities and capacities that it is very difficult to char- > acterize them, but certainly she combined in a unique way > the qualities of both an outstanding teacher and an out- > standing administrator, and that is a combination that is not > often found. She was indeed unique in that respect, and in > both fields she had the ability to bring out the best capaci- > ties that were latent within the people with whom she was > associated in the Faith. I recall that in the difficult and often > slogging sessions of the National Assembly she had the unique > capacity and ability to raise our sights to a true concept of > the real purpose of the work we were engaged in, and what > its ultimate objective should be. > As a platform speaker on the Faith, or indeed on any sub- > ject, she had no peer. Dorothy had an ability, in an abun- > dant measure, to “go across the footlights” in a very wonder- > ful way, which for the most part only great actors and ac- > tresses possess, and she used it not to project her own per- > sonality, but to project the Teachings. Whenever she spoke > of the Faith, what she said struck home to the hearts of the > listeners. It was not just her eloquence which enabled her to > evoke such response, but also her sincerity and her dedica- > tion to the Faith, and her deep knowledge of the Teachings. > > See also pp. 418–419. > > All these things in combination produced an effect that > people really marveled at, and in some cases envied. > Before I became a member of the National Assembly in > Riḍván 1946, I had heard Dorothy speak and I knew that > she was a great teacher of the Faith, but I had no conception > of the extent of her administrative capacity. I was soon to > learn that. At the very first meeting which the four new mem- > bers attended, while the Convention was still going on, the > first order of business was the election of officers. To > everyone’s surprise and astonishment Dorothy was elected > chairman, the first and only woman who has ever been chair- > man of the National Assembly of the United States.1 > During the conventions that followed that year, until she > went to Latin America at the time of the Convention in > 1951, she served as the chairman of the annual Convention, > and set a pattern of performance that I am sure subsequent > chairmen, including myself, have striven to emulate but have > never fully succeeded. > I recall that during the 1st or 2nd year of our service to- > gether on the National Assembly, she had written the Guard- > ian asking for the bounty of pilgrimage. At that time the > Guardian replied that a trip to the goal countries in Europe > would be more meritorious. With characteristic obedience > and happiness, because the Guardian’s wish was her com- > mand, she immediately arose and made the trip to Europe > and all the goal countries in those critical early months of > the 2nd Seven Year Plan. One can imagine how much her > visits must have meant in those difficult years to the pio- > neers who were struggling to establish the Faith in those coun- > > See p. 303n. > > tries, and to the few believers who had at that point accepted > the Faith … > Many of the friends still living will recall the extensive > tours she made, particularly to visit colleges and universi- > ties, both colored and white, throughout the country, where > she lectured on the Faith. She was for many years the chair- > man or secretary of the College Bureau of the National As- > sembly, and she had a very great interest in this type of teach- > ing. She always had a great empathy with young people. She > attracted them always, and was able to reach them with the > Message she brought. > I had the privilege of sharing the platform with her at two > very large public meetings which were held in the middle > 1940’s; one of them I believe in 1945 at the Hall of Nations > in Washington, D.C., where she and Horace Holley were > the speakers. I was the chairman and Ollie Walter Olitsky, a > very devoted Bahá’í who was a baritone with the Metropoli- > tan Opera, sang. We had an “all-Bahá’í act,” as we termed > it. This program was repeated a year or so later at Times > Hall in New York City before a very large audience. On both > occasions both Dorothy and Horace Holley rose to great > heights. Each was a gifted speaker in his own way, and the > occasion brought forth their best efforts. > One of Dorothy’s gifts and graces that I admired very > much was her beautiful command of the English language > and the ability to make thoughts come alive by using color- > ful metaphors and figures of speech which were always > dignified, but expressive, and enabled her to reach her audi- > ence in a way that few people, and none in the Faith, could > do. She was unmatched as a speaker. As I said before, it was > not just this capacity that made her so effective as a speaker, > but the combination of this with the degree of sincerity that > > Dorothy had, and her knowledge of the Teachings. The com- > bination is unbeatable! … > I have spoken of her qualities as a teacher and an admin- > istrator, but this tribute would be incomplete without pay- > ing tribute to her as a friend. Dorothy was a person one > enjoyed being with not only in serving the Faith, but in any > connection. She had a wonderful sense of humor and could > enjoy a good story or a good joke. During the intense ses- > sions of the National Assembly we always relaxed around > the luncheon and dinner table, and Dorothy was always one > of the most appreciative listeners to the stories that Horace > [Holley] and I and others would bring to the table, and she > contributed a good many herself. From a man’s point of > view, I think Dorothy could be characterized as “a good > sport,” a person with a sense of humor, and a sense of fair > play, and a thoroughly enjoyable person to be with under all > sorts of circumstances. > Jokes Dorothy wrote in a small spiral notebook for breaks dur > ing NSA meetings. > “There were rewards for everybody but the audience.” > Heywood Brown: “It opened at 8:30 sharp and closed at > 10:30 dull.” > Descriptions: “Fred Astaire. Can’t act. Slightly bald. Can > dance a little.” MGM Inter-Office studio memo after first > screen test, ‘33. Framed over Fred’s fireplace. > Mother: “Darling, why making faces at your bulldog?” “Well, > he started it.” > > Louise Baker > The first time Mother chaired a National Convention she > found that she could not keep control of the consultation. > It tended to become heated, get off the subject, and she > couldn’t remember the order in which people had raised their > hands to speak. Finally, she called a ten-minute recess. > Mother went immediately to the Cornerstone, as she always > did when she had a problem. She was very tense and ner- > vous, and prayed, “Oh, God! I can’t handle this. What can I > do? I feel as though I were in the middle of a terrible vortex > that drags me down.” > She forced herself to take a few deep breaths, relax, and > clear her mind. Suddenly she seemed to hear a voice saying, > “In the middle of a vortex there is absolute quiet.” > Immediately she felt relaxed and confident. She went back > to Foundation Hall and proceeded to handle one of the > stormier Conventions we have had over the years. Now and > then she would simply close her eyes when things threat- > ened to get out of hand, and stand quietly for a moment or > two, to regain that calm at the heart of the vortex. > From Dorothy to Edmund and Muriel Miessler > > May 16, 1947 > Dearest Muriel and Ed, > Since your darling, bubbly letter came, I have been con- > sumed by the task of being chairman of Convention and of > starting another year as chairman of the NSA, and these > two things are enough to put a novice like me into an early > grave!! Only the mercy and compassion of the Beloved pulled > > us through with joy and assurance and a few little jokes on > Dorothy which nobody minded very much. … > The National Assembly is going on a double schedule > this year and as chairman I will have to give full time to it, > so that it will be impossible to remain on the Inter-America.1 > This takes me out of your direct field of service, but my > heart will be just as much with you as ever; I wouldn’t have > to tell you that. Tell the dear Bodes about this when you see > them and give them my heart’s love and gratitude for their > remarkable service during this first period of Brasil’s up-hill > climb. > All my love, dear ones, and fervent prayers for your con- > tinued success. We get so busy in this world that it becomes > impossible to be to each other what we should be, but I > want you to know again, here and now, that you are so near > and dear to me that words are really inadequate to describe > it and I pray God to be worthy of your friendship. > Oceans of love, your > Dorothy > Bahá’í News, June 1948: “The Divine Plan Unfolds” > The chairman, Mrs. Dorothy Baker, opened the Conven- > tion at 9:30 by asking—“What is the magic of this time?” > In answering this she said that some of it was in the num- > ber 40. She referred to Moses and the 40 years in the wilder- > ness, the 40 days Christ spent in prayer on the mountain- > top and Muḥammad’s 40 days of preparation. The Báb, she > > Dorothy Baker served on the Inter-American Committee from 1944– > 1951, except for 1947–48. > > stated, received Letters of the Living for 40 days while the > Blessed Beauty suffered for 40 years. In this Fortieth Con- > vention, she continued, “May God assist us to make this the > hour of a new birth, for it is the Time. In Europe, on my > recent trip, so many asked me: ‘How long will this obscu- > rity last? Will you hurry?’ Mrs. Baker closed by asking: “May > we make the keynote of this Convention that we arise to > carry the Cause of God out of our own obscurity into the > Light of God, for the true aim of the Convention is the > conversion of the world ….?” > The Fortieth Convention was historic. Some highlights > were: > The triumph of surpassing the goal set by the Guard- > ian of having 175 Assemblies in the United States and > Canada … A second goal, toward which all eyes had > been turned with hope, was described by Mr. John > Robarts, who was introduced by the new name of > “Chairman of the National Spiritual Assembly of the > Bahá’ís of Canada.” With enthusiasm and assurance > Mr. Robarts said: “We have accepted the challenge of > our 5-year Plan sent by the Guardian, we are going at > it NOW and we KNOW it can be done.” He spoke of > the good judgment of the Guardian in marrying a Ca- > nadian and of the inspiring letter received from > Rúḥíyyih Khánum, in whose childhood home the Con- > vention was held. Canada, Mr. Robarts reminded those > present, was the ninth pillar in the forthcoming Inter- > national House of Justice. … > Bahá’í News, June 1948: “Canadian Bahá’í Convention, 1948” > … Dorothy baker, for the last time acting as chairman of > > our joint NSA opened the Convention and conducted the > election of our Convention officers. She had come with four > other members of the NSA of the United States (how > strangely shorn that title appears) to hand over to the Cana- > dian NSA the trust shared for so long. > Our Convention chairman, John Robarts, and secretary, > Laura Davis, took their places. … > John Robarts > When the Canadian NSA was formed five members of the > United States NSA came to help us. Dorothy was one of > them. Dorothy was chairman and we had the election of > Convention officers. I was then elected chairman and sent > to occupy the chairman’s seat. Dorothy had a silk scarf with > her with a pattern on it. I found it in the chair and put it > around my shoulders, with the feeling that it was a talisman > of the chairmanship which I was carrying on. I kept it for > several years and then gave it away. I have always regretted > doing that. > Excerpts from letters to Dorothy Baker from Amatu’l-Bahá > Rúḥíyyih Khánum > > Haifa > July 14, 1947. > Dearest Dorothy, > This letter is not going to be very coherent because I am > always in a hurry. I suspect you live in very much the same > atmosphere and know what it means to always have a new > task treading on the heels of the one you are still doing. > > I am so glad that you and Louise are now going to be able > to go to Europe and I think that your visit there will make a > big difference. … > Aren’t you ever going to grow old? I should think other > Bahá’ís at home would feel like tearing their hair out when > they see you turn up, year after year, with the same girlish > figure and the same sweet face. … How I wish we could see > each other! I long to stretch my mind in the presence of > some mature believers, if you know what I mean. I miss the > wonderful talks that I used to have with my mother. … > I did not mind a bit your writing to me in pencil, and any > word from you is always very dear to me, but knowing how > busy you are, I don’t think I should expect you to answer > me, any more than you should expect me to answer you. > A heartful of love to you. > Rúḥíyyih > > PS. In reading this over I find it very inadequate. It was dic- > tated and I can’t be really at home with a non-Bahá’í stenog- > rapher from here. On the other hand I just cannot do the > Guardian’s mail and my own long hand. I get too tired and > have not the time. There is so much I should like to just > ramble along with you about … next time maybe. Now it is > eleven and if I don’t go to bed I can’t work properly tomor- > row. So often I wish I were at least two people! > > October 20, 1948 > Dearest Dorothy, > From afar I gather my own impressions of the Cause in > America and tho I may be very wrong here are some of them. > > It sometimes seems to me in the effort to establish the ad- > ministration soundly the friends are going to the other ex- > treme and flooding a relatively small community with oceans > of procedure and red tape. Highly efficient races, like the > Germans and the Americans, who like to organize, have a > tendency to over-organize and get out details for every single > contingency that may ever conceivably arise. This is easy to > do, for to tell other people where to get off is a pleasure, to > make rules is so much easier than to follow them! But don’t > you think it kills initiative and makes people afraid of doing > the wrong thing, of breaking a rule? … > Forgive me for pouring out all this. But it is close to my > heart and your letter called forth these thoughts and I feel to > you I can always say what is in my heart, though I may be > wrong. Too often one sees in assemblies the attitude, “we > have the power, and you must obey.” Of course this is true. > But the wielding of power is an art. To lead gently is so > much stronger than to drive harshly and creates unity and > cooperation. … > Forgive this long scribble! Much love goes to you always, > and I long for the day we will meet. > Rúḥíyyih > Eunice Braun1 > Around 1948, in the spring or summer, when I was studying > the Faith, Dorothy gave several firesides in the Chicago area. > > An author, editor, and publisher who served at the U.S. Bahá’í Publishing > Trust for twenty years, Eunice Braun later became a member of the Auxiliary > Board, serving in the southern United States. > > When I could find out where she would be speaking I would > come and listen to her. At one fireside there was a woman > there who dressed very exotically. She taught some kind of > religious philosophy on which she held classes. She had a > certain charisma, but she also had a certain arrogance about > her, as if she knew she was in command. She was not a Bahá’í, > but had come to hear Dorothy. > When Dorothy spoke she was very powerful, but at the > same time there was a tremendous humility about her. I wasn’t > a Bahá’í at the time. I had talked to the other woman, and > was deeply impressed by the difference between them. … > One evening at Louhelen she invited me to come to her > room to talk. A man named H—was there, who had had > his voting rights removed. I had run into him at different > places. He had caused great trouble in several places I had > been—great dissension. (He was very annoying to me, be- > cause I could see that he was just a troublemaker in the Faith.) > Apparently he was to meet with the National Assembly the > following weekend. He stopped Dorothy and wanted to talk > with her. I don’t remember just what was said, but she said > something like, “Just what is the Faith worth to you?” She > was a different person—like a lioness. She didn’t raise her > voice or anything, but her eyes blazed, and it was very pow- > erful. I thought at the time, “If I were that man, I’d drop > dead!” > He left, and we walked on as if it had never happened at > all. Some people say that Dorothy was all sweetness and light. > No, that isn’t true. She was a lioness in the Cause of God. > There’s no doubt about that. I think that she had an ability > to absorb the spirit so that when she was with people it > affected them very, very deeply. She had the ability to be > such a channel that the love came through to people. Some- > > times, I think, people attributed that purely to personality, > but I don’t think it was that. She really was such a channel. > Motives purified by tests, skills honed by service, heart afire > through prayer and study and love, Dorothy saw the world in > desperate need. The 1940s was the time when she stepped into > the international field. > > Chapter 18 > International arena and Louise Baker, 1943–51 > In 1940 Louise Baker turned eighteen and Bill seventeen. Univer- > sity or the family business were the obvious choices for Bill, but > Louise wasn’t so sure. At the last minute she decided to forgo her > fall enrollment at Rollins College, majoring in history, and apply > to Scudder Secretarial School in New York. Frank and Dorothy > were more than a little surprised with her answer when they asked > about the reason behind her change of plans. She said she had > decided to move to South America, but thought she would need > a skill to support herself there. Louise had a good background in > Spanish already and she had decided to train as a bilingual secre- > tary. Neither Frank nor Dorothy knew quite how to respond to > this surge of independence from their daughter, who seemed sud- > denly transformed from a rambunctious teenager to a strong-willed > young woman with her own ideas about how she wanted to live. > The two of them talked it over. Frank was against an interna- > tional move from the start, but Dorothy was more open. The In- > ter-America Committee was in need of pioneers in South America. > She was delighted that her daughter might be able to go. Another > single young woman might not be hardy enough, but Dorothy > knew Louise and her strengths. If she had the will to go, Dorothy > was in favor of letting her try. > The next summer, with Louise home from secretarial school > for vacation, Dorothy was doubly glad of their decision. She was > > doing a lot of writing, and her daughter’s new typing skills were > very useful. > On January 1, 1943, Louise was on her way to Bogota, Co- > lombia. Reports to the Inter-America Committee and home to > her parents were positive. Dorothy began making plans to visit > the young Bahá’í community where “Winnie Lou” lived. She de- > cided to learn Spanish first and, in her typical style, set up a class > so that anyone else in Lima who wanted to learn could join her. > Frank bought some Spanish language records, and Dorothy > managed to stay one lesson ahead of the class she taught, which > was made up mostly of Bahá’ís. She planned to leave Lima in > December for a two-month teaching trip, beginning in Bogota. > On December 10 Horace Holley, the secretary of the National > Spiritual Assembly, sent her a cable from Wilmette: > WE ALL FEEL ASSURED SPLENDID RESULTS YOUR IMPORTANT UN- > DERTAKING MAY YOUR INFLUENCE GUIDE AND INSPIRE PRECIOUS > NUCLEUS FAITH IN COLOMBIA > > Upon her arrival at the Colonial Hotel in Miami, Florida, the last > stop before her flight to South America, Dorothy received a cable > that must have given her heart wings: > FERVENT PRAYERS ACCOMPANYING YOU LOVING APPRECIATION SHOGHI RABBANI > > Louise found that “by the time Dorothy got to Bogota she had a > good base of Spanish to build on, but could not carry on even a > simple conversation. She spoke, naturally enough, at many meet- > ings, and I translated for her.” > This method worked, but Dorothy was determined to put her > limited Spanish to use. She told Louise which stories she wanted > > to use in her talks and asked Louise to tell them to her in the > simplest Spanish. Keeping the verbs in the present tense wherever > possible, Louise told her the same story five, maybe six, or even > seven times, trying to use the same words to make the job of > learning them easier. Louise carefully translated every sentence at > the next public talk, but right in the middle Dorothy launched > into her Spanish story, to the enthusiastic response of her listen- > ers. > After several weeks in Bogota, Dorothy and Louise traveled to > Barranquilla, Colombia, especially to visit an early Colombian > Bahá’í, Señor Carlos Nieto. In a letter to the Inter-America Com- > mittee, mailed just before leaving Colombia for Venezuela, Dor- > othy wrote: > Upon arrival (in Bogota) I found six believers confirmed by > Mr. Gerard Sluter. The two classes being conducted, one by > > 41. The Inter-America Committee in the mid-1940s: > Edna True, Virginia Orbison, Mrs. Barton, Dorothy Baker, > and Amelia Collins. > > 42. Bogota, Colombia, 1944: election of the first Local Spiritual > Assembly. Dorothy Baker, a visitor, is sitting second from the right. > Louise Baker is standing second from the left. > > Mr. Sluter and one by Winifred Louise Baker, were courte- > ously turned over to the visitor and opened to guests. A class > in Dispensation of Bahá’u’lláh was organized for believers and > close students, and teas and conferences were arranged for > others. You all doubtless know now the joyous news that > two new believers have enrolled, and that the Guardian and > the National Assembly approved an immediate election. I > hope that the report has reached you safely. Several more are > close. > The weeks in Colombia had improved Dorothy’s Spanish to the > extent that she arrived in Venezuela with a stock of Bahá’í stories > > and enough vocabulary to locate and talk to the native contacts > who had learned of the Faith from earlier teachers and pioneers. > She recorded with enthusiasm what must have been difficult ma- > neuvers on her first foreign teaching trip. > The extreme cordiality of the people forbids the “foreign” > feeling in Caracas. What a happy task it was to find, one by > one, the friends of Gwenne Sholtis, former pioneer, and re- > mind them of the great Cause which had been the object of > her love and devotion while among them. They had not > forgotten, and some of them were glad to come to the little > meetings at the Gran Americana. Delightful contacts of Mr. > and Mrs. Emeric Sala were later added, and new friends found > their way to the little gatherings. Through the courtesy of > Sra Trina Courlaender, editor of the magazine Pro-America, > and president of the National Club for the Union of Ameri- > can Women, a world of friendships opened up. The meet- > ings grew to about forty in attendance. > At the close of a period of five weeks, eight historic souls > accepted the joy and responsibility of the World Order un- > der the Guardian, and in addition, one youth, and one adult > who lacked permanent residency. Sra Courlaender herself > became one of the group that organized on that memorable > night. All were present when Dr. David Escalante was elected > the first Secretary, and all assisted in laying the first plans for > feasts and regular classes.1 > The Caribbean, Mexico, Central America, and South America > received numerous visits from Dorothy over the next few years. > Viva Lismore, born to Swedish parents, moved to Cuba with her > husband in 1936, unaware of the existence of the Bahá’í Faith. > > “Excerpts from an Inter-America Report Received Prior to the Convention,” > in Bahá’í News, no. 169 (July 1944), pp. 7-8. > > She wrote that a friend, Josephine Kruka, > ‘phoned me up and invited me to attend a lecture by Rose- > mary Sala, but at the time I could not gather up sufficient > energy to attend anything, as my family and myself were in > deep sorrow over the passing of our eldest son, Hugo, killed > in action on June 6, 1944. However, I invited Miss Kruka > and Rosemary Sala as well as Jean Silver for tea. They stayed > for several hours but never mentioned the word “Bahá’í.” I > remember Rosemary told me that I had a highly spiritual > nature. When they invited me to come and hear another > travelling teacher, Dorothy Baker, speak, I felt I could not > refuse. > When I arrived at the large hall where she gave her talk, > the two resident pioneers were at the door welcoming the > guests. They asked [me] to join the group sitting on the > platform, but I preferred to sit with the audience. I felt rather > upset by the fact that the translator was not conveying into > Spanish what Dorothy Baker was saying in English. I sat > there, listening to Dorothy Baker speak, a trim figure on the > platform, wearing a small hat, and quite suddenly I saw a > halo of light around her head. I asked my neighbor whether > she could see it, and she replied, “No.” Again, I asked her if > she could see this halo of light around the speaker’s head, > which was gradually becoming brighter. Her negative an- > swer surprised me. At this moment, Dorothy Baker said: > “Anyone who wishes to hear more about Bahá’u’lláh can come > to the Bahá’í Centre for the next ten days where I shall be > seeing the friends mornings and evenings.” I had never heard > this word “Bahá’u’lláh” before, and it went straight to my > heart and has never left since. From then on my life changed > > entirely. I felt that I had embarked on a journey without a > compass, but also I felt confident that the journey would be > guided, protected and illumined. > In 1945 Dorothy Baker was in Mexico on a delicate mission for > the National Spiritual Assembly. Her goal was to disentangle the > nascent Bahá’í community from the grip of a spiritualist who > tried to control the friends. > On the way there Dorothy shared a train compartment with > Gayle Woolson. Amelia Collins accompanied them to the station > in Chicago. Gayle wrote, > While at the depot waiting for the train on which Dorothy > and I had a reserved compartment, we sat at a small round > table with metal legs in a restaurant of the station where we > had coffee and talked. I basked in the light of their presence > and inspiring conversation which revolved principally around > the guidelines given by the Guardian to consolidate and ex- > pand the work of the Faith in Latin America. The love for > the Guardian and the desire to follow his guidance was up- > permost in our hearts. … When the departure of our train > was announced, dear Millie, as we lovingly called her, re- > cited by heart, with profound feeling and sincerity, the Tab- > let of Visitation by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. The spirit of it accompa- > nied us on our journey. … > When Dorothy and I were settled in our compartment, > one of the first things she talked about was the magnificent > and thrilling new book of the Guardian, God Passes By—a > classic—which recently had been published. As yet, I had > not read it. She conveyed that it is a gem-like, ingenious > presentation of a summary of the first eventful one hundred > > years of the Bahá’í Faith—1844 to 1944. … Dorothy car- > ried a copy of the book with her. How profoundly she trea- > sured it. > Among the things that Dorothy related to me in the course > of our journey was an episode in God Passes By about a criti- > cal period at the time of the early Bábís. Bahá’u’lláh told > them in part to recite the prayer of the Báb, which we call > the Remover of Difficulties, five hundred times. She then > said, “Let us say that prayer five hundred times for special > assistance with the work in Mexico.” I was delighted. Settled > for prayer in our compartment, she tore up some paper into > small pieces with which to keep count. We took turns say- > ing the prayer a number of times each (ten or twenty). When > we finished, it felt as though [we] were endowed with re- > newed vitality and fortified with a new spirit, inner peace > and a feeling of assurance that success would be obtained. > The train stopped at San Antonio, Texas, for a consider- > able length of time—perhaps an hour or so. The passengers > were able to leave the train. … Dorothy and I went out and, > for exercise, we walked up and down a stretch of the tracks > on the wood planks between the rails and talked. … She > always had something interesting and instructive to say. One > continually learned from her. … > Mexico City was reached about September 21st, 1945. > Dorothy and I settled in a moderately priced hotel. Our room > had a small parlor where friends could be received. … > Identifying the man who exerted such power over the Bahá’í > community was simple enough, but removing his negative influ- > ence was another matter. Dorothy first held a special meeting at > which she explained to the Bahá’ís the need to keep the Faith in > its pure form rather than introduce a lot of unrelated practices > > and beliefs. To the man who was using his psychic practices to > influence and gain control over the new Bahá’ís, Dorothy spoke > with great strength. At one point Rosemary Sala, who with her > husband Emeric pioneered for fourteen years in South Africa, > then in Mexico, accompanied Dorothy to call upon the individual. > Rosemary was repulsed by the man’s countenance. Looking into > his eyes she saw a dark, treacherous abyss and felt the presence of > personified evil. Shocked and repelled, Rosemary asked, “Dor- > othy, how can you be near him?” > “Well, he’s a human soul, and going through his own tragedy. > We must either let him cut himself away, or receive him and change > him.” > After meeting with him, Dorothy settled on a method of offer- > ing the Bahá’ís an alternative to his totally dominant influence. > Rosemary Sala remembered, > We sat in the park in the middle of the Avenida de la > Reforma, and she said the Long Healing Prayer, which > Marzieh Gail had just translated, and we repeated it together. > In the evening when we saw Dorothy, she said that she had > had this inspiration. She was going to hunt for a new Cen- > ter. She would tell the Bahá’ís about the new Center, and > would invite all of them to come. Those who came to the > new Center would be considered the members of the new > community of Bahá’ís in Mexico City. … This was the way > she healed the situation, without causing any disunity, or > any disagreement, or any discussion between the believers, > which was perfect. They made their own choice freely. No > enmity was caused. This was a wonderful example of her > wisdom and gentleness. > In fact Gayle Woolson recalled that at the community gathering > > a Bahá’í lady offered her home as the new meeting place. It was > large and modern and served the community well. The leader of > the spiritualism group and his family dropped out of the Faith, > and an election was held to fill the vacancies on the Local Spiri- > tual Assembly. > With the strain and tension gone from the community, inac- > tive Bahá’ís even began to reappear. With Mexico City strength- > ened, Dorothy felt able to spend the last part of her trip teaching > in Puebla and Vera Cruz. > > In April 1945 Louise Baker had arrived in Caracas, Venezuela, to > help form the first Local Spiritual Assembly in Venezuela. There > she found Yolanda Stronach, one of the women whom Dorothy > had taught more than a year earlier during her first South Ameri- > can visit. With her one pamphlet and Spanish prayer book, > Yolanda had held together and strengthened the first few Bahá’ís > of Venezuela, almost all of them women. > In February 1946 Dorothy and Frank left Lima to visit Louise > and travel through Jamaica and Cuba on their return. Arriving in > Caracas, they found a small, thriving Bahá’í community. Dor- > othy gave numerous classes there. > One evening Dorothy, Louise, and several of the Venezuelan > friends were at a meeting in Yolanda’s home. The class, like others > she gave, had been advertised in the newspaper. Late into the > evening there was a knock at the door. Yolanda opened it and > found two men standing outside. > “Is a Mrs. Baker in this house?” > Their presence didn’t seem inspired by any spiritual quest. They > were direct enough, but somehow suspect. In an effort to be cour- > teous yet cautious, Yolanda said, “Did you read about Mrs. Baker’s > visit in the paper, or are you friends of some of the Bahá’ís?” > “Neither. Is she here?” > > Hearing this exchange from the couch where she sat, Dorothy > went to the door. “I’m Mrs. Baker. Do you wish to see me?” > “Yes, we have a message.” > They came into the small parlor, their eyes on Dorothy, not > even glancing at the rest of the people in the room. The taller one > stood quietly, but before Yolanda could even close the door or ask > them to sit down, the other one began to speak. > “A man came to us with a message for Mrs. Baker.” > Again Dorothy said, “I am Mrs. Baker.” > The two men looked at one another, presumably for a signal > that each believed this was the woman they had come to find. > Their expressions didn’t change, but some sign must have passed > between them because after a long pause the shorter man spoke > again. > “In our practice we receive messages. This one is for you. A > man in robes, dark hair, dark beard, wishes us to extend his greet- > ings to Mrs. Baker. You are Mrs. Baker. Greetings from the Báb.” > The room remained quite still. Those who weren’t sure they’d > heard correctly didn’t even whisper their questions. Dorothy, who > had been staring dispassionately into the speaker’s face, then at > the tall man’s unmoving features, asked “How did you receive > this message?” > “He came to us in our practice and told us where to find you.” > “What is your practice?” > “We are spiritualists. We meet to receive word from other > worlds.” > “Would you like to know more about the man who spoke with > you? About the Báb?” > “The Báb asked us to do his bidding, and we have. Nothing > else is necessary.” > They turned and let themselves out, leaving Dorothy looking > after them, and the rest of the room looking to Dorothy. > > On that same visit to Caracas, a native Bahá’í woman came to > Dorothy’s hotel after attending several of her classes and asked to > speak in private. Dorothy’s Spanish was still limited, but Louise > was there and able to translate. The three of them went outside > into the garden and sat in a sunny corner, hidden from the lobby > of the hotel by a semicircle of shrubs and trees. As soon as they > were seated the Venezuelan woman began to cry. Through her > tears came disconnected pleas for help and a jumbled narrative of > her problems. Louise struggled to understand, translating into > English whatever short phrases she could glean from the woman’s > desperate staccato that melted at times into moaning sobs. The > problems seemed hopelessly severe, but the details were unintelli- > gible. > “I don’t know what to do, Muzz. She’s so upset I can’t under- > stand what she’s saying.” > In surprise Dorothy turned to her daughter and said, “Why, > Sweetie, it’s perfectly clear. You go along while she and I talk.” > Horrified by what seemed to be the huge dimensions of the > woman’s problems and amazed that her mother could understand > the garbled, almost senseless explanations, Louise left them to > themselves. Two hours later they came in from the garden, the > native woman looking refreshed and calm. With fond tenderness > they kissed each other good-bye on both cheeks, and the woman > left. > Louise Baker had her own problems to contend with, as Dorothy > wrote in a letter dated October 13, 1945. > Winnie Lou is sick. Dangerously low blood count; pos- > sible parasites. Wants to stay but has to give up her job. Pray > for her when we can, dearest. She feels failure in Caracas, > > but I think it is her health; and being just too tired and busy. > There is a little heart-break in her letter. Someone has said > that pioneering is ecstasy and tears, and I think it is true. > Every country has its ransom. Maybe her health is just that. > The mother of Ashraf said, “Go thou straight on, my son!” > Bahá’í News, May 1946, reported, “Mr. and Mrs. Frank Baker > have recently returned home after visiting Assemblies in Caracas, > Venezuela; Kingston, Jamaica; and Havana, Cuba. Louise Baker > is remaining in Caracas until after the election.” > Shortly after Dorothy’s return from South America, having sent > reports on Riḍván elections, the state of Inter-America Commit- > tee goals, and questions, she received correspondence from Shoghi > Effendi that included the following postscript in his own hand: > Dear and valued co-worker: > I am truly grateful to you for your magnificent services, > rendered in such an exemplary spirit, over so wide a field, > despite so many obstacles, and with such distinction. Perse- > vere in your high endeavors, and remember always that the > Beloved is well pleased with the standard of your work, and > that my loving and continued prayers will continue to be > offered on your behalf at the holy Shrines, > Your true and grateful brother, > Shoghi > (March 15, 1946) > > Four and a half months later Rúḥíyyih Khánum, on behalf of > Shoghi Effendi, wrote to Dorothy, > He will pray for all those you mentioned in your letters— > > but particularly for your dear daughter Louise, who seems > to be following most rapidly and closely in her devoted > mother’s footsteps! > In the same letter the Guardian wrote, > Dear and valued co-worker: > The expansion of your activities as a result of the inaugu- > ration of the new Plan will enable you to display, to a still > greater extent, the magnificent qualities that have distin- > guished in recent years your unique services to the Faith of > Bahá’u’lláh. I am proud of, and feel deeply grateful for, these > services. Persevere in your glorious and historic task, and > rest assured that I will continue to pray for you from the > depths of my heart. > Your true & grateful brother, > Shoghi > > In the spring of 1946, just after Dorothy’s teaching trip to South > America, the needs of that continent fresh in her heart and mind, > Ed and Muriel Miessler visited the Bakers to talk about Regional > Teaching Committee work. Ed’s first wife, Elma, had died in 1939. > Ed and Elma had dreamed of pioneering when the children were > grown. Now Elma was gone. Ed still thought of pioneering, but > there was a new family situation, and the children, Margot and > Bob, were teenagers now and still in school. Muriel was a fairly > new Bahá’í, having declared her belief about the time she and Ed > married. Life was full enough of change and new responsibilities. > The moment had never seemed quite right to add starting over in > a new country. > Sitting together as the comfortable breeze of a cool Ohio after- > > noon blew through the living room, surrounded by the familiar, > easy spirit of the house where both her guests had learned about > the Bahá’í Faith, Dorothy said to Ed and Muriel, “Now just what > is it that is keeping you from going pioneering? We need pioneers > in Latin America.” > The reasons seemed too numerous to even begin to explain, > but the only one that came to mind was that the children were in > school. Later, after more than thirty years at their post in Brazil, > Ed still recalled how simply Dorothy put the problem into per- > spective. “Bob will be graduating from high school and going to > college. Margot has only one more year of high school. She can > be our daughter during that year. Why don’t you say the Tablet of > Aḥmad every day for nineteen days? Then come back and let’s > talk it over.” > Long before the nineteen days passed, the Miesslers were back, > offering to go anywhere they were needed in South America. In > September Dorothy said good-bye to Ed and Muriel, two more > of what she called “the people of destiny”—pioneers.1 > > Sept. 25, ‘46 > Goodbye, darlings of Bahá’u’lláh! > Anchors away! Vayan con Dios! May the Angels attend you. > Take along this bit of dust from the inner shrine of shrines. > > Edmund and Muriel Miessler set sail for Brazil on September 25, 1946. > They both served valiantly for their entire lives. In 1952 Ed was named a > member of the Auxiliary Board by the Hands of the Cause. His territory was > all of South America and the Falkland Islands. For more information see Muriel > Miessler, Pioneering in Brazil: Our Glorious Spiritual Adventure (Brazil: Editora > Bahá’í, 1986). > > Bahá’u’lláh Himself calls it potent, and our Guardian calls > it potent. And this, dear Muriel, is a quotation to which you > will turn in time of need, facing the Blessed Spot, and you > will know that the holy Navváb is actually gifted to assist > you when assemblies, committees, yes, and the dearest of > friends, are powerless to help you. Never be afraid. We have > human hearts that become deeply troubled; did not the heart > of our adored Master cry out many times? But not with fear. > “He who does not love God fears all things, but he who > loves God, all things fear him.” … > You are like the pearl to which the Master likened dear > May Maxwell when He said, “One pearl is better than a > thousand wildernesses of sand. When that pearl associates > with and becomes the intimate of the pebbles, they also > change into pearls.” > Eternal love, > Dorothy > > Dorothy and Frank watched over the Miessler children, though > they lived with Muriel Miessler’s sister until joining their parents > in Brazil. On May 16, 1947 Dorothy wrote to Ed and Muriel that > Bob and Margot, “both came to Convention, the cute things, > and were right in the very heart of the Youth activities.” > When Louise Baker was in the United Sates between pioneer > posts, she served as recording secretary of the Inter-America Com- > mittee. But Dorothy had to leave service on that committee for a > time, as she said to the Miesslers in a letter written on June 2. > NSA is almost doubling the number of its meetings this > year and all National Assembly members are asked to relin- > quish membership on national committees. Edna True is > the lone exception to this, because the European work is still > > 43. Rice Lake Summer School, 1946: Lloyd Gardner, Annamarie > Mattoon, Louise Baker, Bill Baker. > > so new. I have taken on the chairmanship of the NSA for a > second year and that will keep me pretty busy for a while > longer, of course, so I am thankful to be relieved. All the > same, I am homesick for Latin American news. I attend IAC > meetings once in a while when special conferences come up, > and in making overall plans, but I have no fresh news of > anyone, and miss it terribly. You will have to write me nice > long, newsy letters now, so I won’t be an orphan. You are my > darling dears, anyway, and will always be, though commit- > tees may come and go. … > > I must close; this was meant only to be a note to tell you > how we loved having Bob. He is the most thoughtful, con- > siderate boy we have ever seen! We only wish it could have > been Margo, too, but she got away before we had a chance > at her.1 The Miesslers will soon all be together again and > then watch old Brasil! > Louise Caswell—an American who pioneered in several Central > American countries including Guatemala from 1953 to 1975, then > Yucatan, Mexico—served on the first regional National Spiritual > Assembly of Central America, Mexico, and the Antilles. While > Louise Caswell was still in Panama, her first pioneering post, > Dorothy wrote to her: > A thousand thanks for your beautiful gift, dear friend. It is a > symbol of something precious to me. The pioneers are the > “men of the unseen,” the people of destiny, of whom the > future will sing. To have been favored by one of them is > lovelier than I can express. It is a strange thing, dear Louise, > that when I think of you tears come to my eyes. It is a warm, > tender thing, and I am conscious that I did not create it. > The National Assembly is proud of all of you. Each is as > a thousand. > Lovingly always, > Dorothy > > Margot and Bob joined Ed and Muriel in Brazil in 1947. Margot went on > to become a traveling teacher and pioneer in several countries including Uru- > guay, Puerto Rico, Honduras and the Pacific. Bob, like Muriel and Ed, eventu- > ally served on the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Brazil and > traveled to teach the Bahá’í Faith in many parts of the world. > > In one year over thirty Bahá’ís left Lima for homefront or in- > ternational goals. But in Dorothy’s opinion a Bahá’í did not have > to be a pioneer to attain one of the greatest blessings of pioneer- > ing. She felt the pioneers were more successful in teaching than > those who stayed home because, in her words, “they are God- > centered. Everything revolves around their pioneering work, and > everything else is subordinate to it. Wherever you are, strive al- > ways to be God-centered.” Dorothy wrote the Miesslers at their > post in Brazil in January 1947, the same year Ed and Muriel helped > form the first Local Spiritual Assembly of São Paulo. > Frank and I are setting out for Mexico immediately after the > January session of NSA, speaking in Cincinnati and Louis- > ville on the way, and, of course, giving Louise a hand in > Mexico. If you want to catch me soon, write in care of Louise, > c/o US Consul in Vera Cruz. I expect to be there in mid- > Feb. She is doing a wonderful job and doesn’t need me at all. > This is Frank’s idea! And there is a possibility that Bernsteins > will go along. > I can ill afford the time, but Frank says I never will have > time and this is THE time to go!! Looks awfully like a vaca- > tion to me, dears. > Well, I must pack, as I get off day after tomorrow, not to > return. Frank (and perhaps the Bernsteins) will meet me in > Cincinnati later. > I can be reached by cable c/o Horace, up to Jan. 21. > I love you both so that it sometimes hurts, actually. I do > want you both to know that you are of the nearest and dear- > est friends I have in this world and the next. > Your > Dorothy > > In Mexico the trip turned from vacation to teaching. Louise > was living in Vera Cruz but traveled by bus every week to Coatepec, > outside of Jalapa, where she gave an English class for contacts one > night, went teaching the next day, and then on the second night > gave a fireside-deepening. The following morning she would leave > Coatepec for Puebla, where she had a similar schedule, and then > take the bus to Mexico City for another two days—one night at a > deepening, the next assisting the Local Spiritual Assembly. On > the seventh day she would travel back to Vera Cruz to try to acti- > vate the small Bahá’í group there. > On her first day in Vera Cruz Dorothy told Louise the schedule > was too much for anyone and suggested dropping that city. Ex- > hausted from constant bone-shaking bus rides, sleeping two nights > a week on a plank bed with only a cotton blanket for a mattress > and two other nights in a single bed shared with one of the native > Bahá’í women, Louise took her mother’s advice. Frank and Dor- > othy helped her move to a comfortable room in Puebla. > In Coatepec, after Dorothy gave a talk, Louise took her par- > ents to a hotel in nearby Jalapa rather than to the small family > home where she usually stayed. High above sea level, cloudy, cold > and wet, Jalapa had a gruesome effect on Dorothy. She had often > suffered from asthma in certain climates, but Louise, who wrote > her account of that night, had never witnessed it before. > That night in Jalapa she couldn’t lie down. She couldn’t even > relax in an armchair. Her breathing was painfully raucous. > She spent the entire night sitting totally erect in a straight > chair, not even able to lean back. That way she could breathe, > although her breath rasped with every inhalation. I wanted > to go on up to Puebla, where the air was drier, but she > wouldn’t hear of it. “I’ll be just fine,” she told me. “You go > > to sleep and don’t worry about me. I’ve had this often enough > before, and know what to do. I’ll just say a few prayers.” > When I told her I’d stay up and keep her company, she sent > me off to bed. It was abundantly clear that, close as we were, > this was a time she needed to be alone. I woke up several > times during the night, to see her still sitting in her chair, > the personification of Victorian “good posture,” her breath > rattling into her lungs. I spoke to her the first time or two, > but not after that, because she seemed to have retreated so > far into herself, and looked so utterly peaceful in spite of the > noisy breathing and rigid posture, that she had difficulty in > coming to the surface to answer me. > While the Bakers helped their daughter move and visited some > of the small towns where Louise had been teaching, the Bernsteins, > who had traveled with Frank and Dorothy from the United States, > flew to Mexico City to wait for their friends. The four of them > had planned a side trip to Cuernavaca, Taxco, and Acapulco, but > when the Bakers returned to Mexico City, Dorothy asked if the > others would mind going on without her so she could stay and > help the Bahá’ís there and in Louise’s goal towns. The little group > left, and Dorothy carried on with the work she wanted to do. > From Puebla she wrote to the Guardian about plans and goals > in Mexico and South America, among them the goal of forming > one new Local Spiritual Assembly. To her delight that Riḍván, > what she called “Louise’s two new assemblies,” Puebla and Coate- > pec, both formed. > > Dorothy’s plans for the following winter included a teaching trip > to Europe. The second Seven Year Plan had begun in 1946, the > “second collective enterprise undertaken in American Bahá’í his- > > tory.” It became known as “the European Campaign,” as Europe > was the “preeminent goal.”1 Louise was not sure where she should > serve. On June 21, 1947, Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khánum wrote > to Dorothy, on behalf of the Guardian: > … The work your dear daughter is doing is very much > appreciated. … In regard to her future plans: he feels that, > although she can render valuable services in Latin America, > the work in Europe at present is more urgent, particularly in > Spain. He, therefore, urges you to, by all means, take her to > Europe with you and try to arrange for her to remain in > Spain, or, if that is not possible, in Portugal. … Please give > his loving greetings to Mr. Baker and assure him of how > greatly he admires the spirit of sacrifice he shows in enabling > you to serve so constantly …. > Dear and prized co-worker: > I deeply regret the delay in acknowledging the receipt of > your letters and reports which I have read with interest, grati- > tude and admiration. You are truly rendering in both the > teaching and administrative fields services which posterity > will gratefully remember and extol. The friends praise and > admire the spirit you manifest, the ability, the devotion and > zeal with which you promote the manifold interests of the > Faith. You should feel happy, grateful and confident. The > work in Europe stands in great need of workers such as you, > and I pray that you and your dear daughter may be guided > and richly blessed in this new and highly meritorious activ- > ity in the European field. Persevere in your noble task and > > Priceless Pearl, pp. 402–3. > > rest assured that the Beloved is watching over you and is > well pleased with the standard of your achievements. > Your true and grateful brother, > Shoghi > > Louise decided this might be the perfect time for her mother > to receive permission to go on pilgrimage. Since she would be > traveling to Europe as well, Shoghi Effendi might allow them > both to go. Together they wrote to the Guardian and, on January > 4, 1948, received the following reply. > Dear Bahá’í Friends, > Your letter to our beloved Guardian, dated Dec. 19th has > been received, and he has instructed me to answer you both > on his behalf. > He is delighted to see your plans for Europe and that you > both, each in a special field and way, are going to be able to > render such valuable and much needed services. You may be > sure that his thoughts and special prayers will be with you as > you labour for the Faith. > In the sad and dangerous condition this country is in at > present, it seems that pilgrimages to Haifa will be once more > postponed, owing to circumstances, for some time! How- > ever, he assures you both that he hopes the day will come > when together you can visit this sacred land. You would be > more than welcome, you know. > The increasingly confused situation in the world is caus- > ing a like confusion, it would seem, in the minds of men. > All the believers can do is to cling steadfastly and calmly to > the Faith and its teachings, and try to reach with the Mes- > sage those seeking for it, and to give the comfort and hope > we, as followers of Bahá’u’lláh, possess to all those they meet. > > He greatly values and admires the services your family is > rendering the Faith in this period of the world’s greatest need. > With warm love > R. Rabbani > Dear and valued co-workers: > I greatly welcome the news of your contemplated trip to > Europe and of the aid and support you will both extend to > the pioneers in Europe. You will, thereby, be enriching the > splendid record of your past services, and setting a noble > example to your fellow-workers in the North American con- > tinent. My fervent and loving prayers will accompany and > surround you wherever you labour. Be happy, persevere in > your historic and glorious task and rest assured that the Be- > loved is well pleased with you and will bless your work. > Your true and grateful brother > Shoghi > > A photo in Bahá’í News shows mother and daughter smiling > into the camera, the two of them looking uncannily like sisters. > The caption reads, “Miss Louise Baker sailed January 13th as pio- > neer to Portugal, and Mrs. Dorothy Baker flew to Europe January > 12th to lecture in ten goal countries.”1 > Dorothy wrote to friends on Christmas Day, before leaving. > Dear Ones, > This is goodbye. Louise and I start immediately for Eu- > rope, and oh how we want your prayers! Will you have one > daily for us? My help to Europe is especially thin, as it has to > be the fast-moving itinerant kind. If you lined my pockets > > Bahá’í News, February 1948, p. 7. > > 44. On their way to Europe: Louise and Dorothy Baker, > January 1948. > > with a million dollars in American money it would not com- > pare to the gift of fervent, real prayer every day now. It is a > pea soup fog I am going into. I think we all have to have this > sometimes. Your love will make your prayers count, and I > particularly want them. … > Fly out of NY Jan. 12—Return Mar. 20–21. > Tenderest love, > Dorothy > While Louise began to settle in as a pioneer in Portugal, Dorothy > visited all the European goal countries of the second Seven Year > Plan, as well as others: Ireland, England, France, Norway, Swe- > den, Denmark, Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg, Switzerland, > > 45. Louise and Dorothy in Madrid, March 1948, “looking like sisters.” > > Italy, Spain, and Portugal. Everywhere she held press conferences, > spoke to small and large groups, and met with pioneers and na- > tive Bahá’ís to encourage and inspire them. > In early March Dorothy arrived in Portugal to meet Louise, > with a letter from Rúḥíyyih Khánum in hand. The letter asked > that they call on a certain friend of Rúḥíyyih Khánum and of her > mother, May Maxwell. The gentleman, Hubert Matthias, lived > in Lisbon, but had befriended the Maxwells in Germany some > fourteen years before. Greatly impressed with the older and > younger Canadian ladies, with their spirit and their personalities, > he began to study the Faith and eventually accepted it, writing > directly to Haifa. > Louise was aware that Rúḥíyyih Khánum hoped they would > > contact her German friend, but in an unusual spurt of shyness, > had resisted the impulse, waiting for the support of her mother’s > presence. Instead Louise visited with Virginia Orbison. Virginia > was later named a Knight of Bahá’u’lláh as the first pioneer to the > Balearic Islands, east of Spain. Louise also made another friend, > Valeria Nichols, who was then pioneering in Portugal. (Valeria > later served on the National Spiritual Assembly of Mexico for > many years.) > As Hubert Matthias recalled, Dorothy was less shy than Louise > was about contacting him. > In Lisbon, Portugal in early 1948 I lived in a room with a > balcony that I rented from a German woman with two kids. > I think it was on a Friday in March that I received a phone > call from an American woman, Valeria Nichols, on behalf > of Mrs. Dorothy Baker, to please come for dinner at the > American Club the following Sunday. As always on week- > ends I drove out to my very primitive country place, but > returned early on Sunday afternoon to Lisbon to appear at > the American Club betimes. > When I entered the club on the fourth floor of an apart- > ment building the manager took me to the table in the right > corner where three ladies sat: Mrs. Baker, Mrs. Nichols and > Louise Baker. The reception was very cordial, as they were > Bahá’ís and I had joined the Faith in a letter to Haifa several > weeks earlier. I don’t think they knew that, and of course > were very happy when I told them so. My mood was a strange > one because before leaving my quarters I had strange pre- > monitions and some inner voice had repeatedly told me: > “Tonight you are going to meet your wife, tonight you are > going to meet your wife.” I told myself, calming my trem- > bling hands, not to be hysterical and to calm down. When I > > first saw the three ladies and noticed Miss Baker’s tiny little > hat with short little black feather-like bunches of thick hair > sticking out on two sides, I decided that of this hat I would > make a shaving brush. > There was [for me] no doubt that the young woman would > be my wife and of course her mother, Mrs. Baker, my > mother-in-law. Dorothy put me at ease with her gracious- > ness and I felt at home with them, just as I had with the > Maxwells years ago when I met Mrs. Maxwell and her daugh- > ter in Munich, Germany. They had brought me to Canada > and the States in 1938, my first visit to America. Mary— > Rúḥíyyih had given Miss Baker my address as she was going > to Portugal, encouraging her to look me up. This had led to > the invitation for dinner, which we were now about to eat. > I guess we talked about the Maxwells, about Portugal and > about the Bahá’í Faith, and afterwards they asked me to come > to their apartment where there would be a meeting. The > four or five people that came were Portuguese and I was > asked to translate Mrs. Baker’s talk to them. I had lived in > Portugal for about five years already, so my Portuguese was > good enough. I remember hesitating when Dorothy said > something that I considered to be somewhat unwise to be > said more or less publicly in a police state, as Portugal was at > the time, but she nodded forcefully to make me translate > exactly what she had said. > The next day in the morning we all went to see the Moorish > castle on top of a hill on the east side of downtown Lisbon, > and for the next days we drove to Cintra and other places of > note. Mrs. Baker struck me as a very exceptional woman of > high intelligence and great empathy. Her grey eyes were ex- > tremely expressive and a pronounced jaw in her beautiful > face indicated a strong will and strong convictions. On the > > way down from Cintra castle the elder ladies had gone ahead > and given Louise and me a chance to talk with each other, > and it was then probably that we realized that our premoni- > tions of meeting each other had been sound and realistic. I > remember stating to myself that the way Louise treated me I > wanted to be treated for the rest of my life. … > In the evening Dorothy took me aside, where we were > alone, kissed me on both cheeks and said, “Hubert, I’m all > for it.” > As a result of May Maxwell’s and Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khá- > num’s friendship with Hubert years before in Germany, this young > man—his family torn apart by war, his body scarred and one arm > temporarily paralyzed by the effects of Russian bullets—had de- > cided, alone in Portugal, to become a Bahá’í. Through obedience > to Shoghi Effendi’s instructions, Louise Baker had moved to the > Iberian Peninsula, her first post outside of Latin America, where > she had spent some very lonely, difficult years. Following both > the instructions of Shoghi Effendi to teach in Europe and the > request of Rúḥíyyih Khánum to look up the young German in > Portugal, Dorothy brought the situation to its culmination. > When news reached Rúḥíyyih Khánum that Louise and Hubert > were married, she wrote to Hubert, June 20, 1948, from Haifa: > “And will you believe me if I confess that my secret and ardent > hope—the Guardian is my witness!—was that by just a miracle > this very thing would happen and you and Winifred Louise would > fall in love and marry?” In the beginning this end may have been > out of sight for all involved. Or perhaps the sequence of events > was forecast in one mind or another; at least Dorothy, Louise, > and Hubert had premonitions. But whatever the combination of > original intentions, the results were very satisfactory. On October > 20, 1948, Rúḥíyyih Khánum wrote, > > Dearest Dorothy— > I enjoy your letters so much and it was so sweet of you to > give me a glimpse of the Portuguese romance! I was so happy > about that marriage and to know Hubert has come to rest in > the Bahá’í harbour. He is a fine soul and has much needed > qualities in the Cause. … > In other countries Dorothy visited, the spirit of the assemblies > and individuals was recharged with hope and enthusiasm. Isobel > Sabri later served as a member of the Continental Board of Coun- > selors for Africa and at the International Teaching Center in Haifa. > She pioneered in Africa for more than thirty years. But when Isobel > met Dorothy Baker in Scotland she was still a fairly new Bahá’í > The second time I met Dorothy Baker was in Edinburgh, > Scotland, in the winter of 1948. I had become a believer > two months after meeting her in California and in 1946 went > as a pioneer to the British Isles during the Six Year Plan there. > My parents were British, so I had dual nationality and was > able to live and work in Britain with no difficulty. Dorothy > had written to the Guardian asking permission to visit the > Holy Land on pilgrimage. He had replied that it would be > more meritorious to visit the pioneers and young communi- > ties in the countries of Europe. Scotland was one of her first > stops. > After a series of meetings in Edinburgh which resulted a > few days later in the declaration of the first Scottish believ- > ers there, a Mr. and Mrs. Wood who had been greatly im- > pressed by Dorothy’s spirituality, the two of us travelled to- > gether by train from Edinburgh to Glasgow where she was > to catch her plane. During the journey Dorothy recited prayer > > 46. Lisbon, Portugal: Hubert Matthias, Louise Baker Matthias, > and Virginia Orbison, 1948. > > 47 Portugal, 1948: in Hubert’s Citroen. > > after prayer by memory. It was remarkable to me how many > prayers she knew by heart. > Dorothy always gave considerable thought and attention > to her appearance. She spoke to me of the fact that even > one’s manner of dress should attract the listener to the Faith. > She explained that she had chosen a different colour and > outfit for each country she was to visit, according to the na- > ture of the people of the country as she perceived them to > be. For Scotland and England she had chosen a lovely soft > grey ensemble, and for Spain red! > Certainly Dorothy made the most of her natural charm. > There was a quality of impeccability about her. She also > paid attention to the details of her manner and words. One > sensed that she had really studied how to express herself, > how to teach the Faith effectively. She didn’t leave things to > chance. She prepared herself meticulously for her teaching > trips and her lectures. She carried in her suitcase consider- > able quantities of special mimeographed materials, answers > to questions, which she had prepared, ready to give to those > who showed interest. She once said to me, “What is the use > of God sending a soul into your life to teach if you are not > ready and prepared to help him?” > In speaking at gatherings of the Bahá’ís only, Dorothy > always took pains to have small vignettes or bits of informa- > tion about the Faith to tell them which they would probably > not have heard before. This made her a particularly appeal- > ing speaker to the believers. > After Scotland, she went to Birmingham, England, for > the British National Teaching Conference. The British Bahá’í > Community was quite small and conservative at that time; > but this lovely woman, Chairman of the National Spiritual > Assembly of the United States, won their hearts totally and > > her effect in inspiring the believers to arise for the success of > their Plan was notable indeed. She spoke of the Guardian, > and her theme was, “If you love the Guardian, there is noth- > ing that you wouldn’t do to please him.” > The National Teaching Committee of Great Britain wrote to > the National Spiritual Assembly of the United States, > Mrs. Baker’s visit meant something very special to our na- > tional community. … appreciation is not confined to the > Committee but is warmly felt up and down the land. … > Great as was the value of her teaching work, however, by far > her most remarkable and permanent contribution grew out > of the providential opportunity for her to participate in our > Annual Teaching Conference. This Conference is one of the > three rallying points of the national community during the > year, and for the past three years has marked a significant > turning-point in the affairs of the Cause. In a sense, Mrs. > Baker’s presence and contributions were a pivot for the whole > proceedings of the Conference. > … A reception was attended by 85 people, including 50 > non-Bahá’ís, while the attendance at the Teaching Confer- > ence was the highest on record, averaging about 75 believ- > ers. You will realize that this is more than a third of our > national community, every Assembly and goal town being > represented. Thus it is apparent that the beneficent influence > of Mrs. Baker’s work has gone out to all parts of Britain. … > Her work will long be remembered, and we feel sure that > she has done much to knit even closer the bonds of Bahá’í > fellowship which unite our two national communities. …1 > In Spain Dorothy spoke to small groups of four, or eight, or > > Quoted in “Around the Bahá’í World,” in Bahá’í News, no. 209 (July 1948), p. 4. > > sixteen—five meetings in all—in Madrid. Virginia Orbison’s di- > ary read, “Dorothy not well but holding up.” According to a his- > tory of the Faith in Spain that Virginia was writing, “Dorothy > conquered all the hearts of those she met.” > Doris Lohse, who was to become a pioneer of long standing in > Switzerland, wrote from Brussels, where she pioneered in 1947, > Darling, with your teaching work, with your talks on prayer, > your touching stories and with the “Seven Valleys” you have > started the irrigation of a nearly parched soil in the hearts of > your listeners. They really did not know what they lacked so > desperately. Your visit has been an invaluable contribution > to the first awakening of a nation. > Lea Nys, the first person to become a Bahá’í in Belgium, learned > about the Faith from two American pioneers, Jack and Eunice > Shurcliff. She was active in helping to organize Dorothy’s visit. > Dorothy Baker spent one week in Brussels in 1948. I didn’t > know much about her; just that she was a great lady, and > had done much for the Faith. But when she came, we knew! > She was very impressive. > We had been trying to find a way to contact the 50 or > more associations in the city which had aims which accorded > with one of the Bahá’í principles. When Dorothy Baker was > to come, this seemed the right chance. I was put in charge > of organizing the meeting; it was the first time I had done > this sort of thing for a really large meeting. > I contacted a friend who was a very well known musician, > and he made arrangements for a very fine trio to play before > the meeting, which was held in the Hotel Atlanta in a large > and very lovely meeting room which could seat about five > > hundred. Between four hundred and five hundred attended. > When Dorothy Baker entered the hall, she was like a > queen. She was so attractive, and she always seemed to be > master of any situation. The way she dressed was very > different from the way the Belgian women dressed, and was > most attractive. When I recall that lady’s capacity, it was > tremendous. She had a very fascinating power which was > working … strongly that evening. She had something very > special. We were “all ears,” absorbing her words, the way she > talked, her manner, the gestures she used—her whole atti- > tude was something I cannot convey here. It could not be > reproduced. …. > When I had introduced her she stood up and greeted the > people with “Alláh-u-Abhá,” and then she explained its mean- > ing. She talked about world unity. … She stood very straight, > and there was a microphone, but she did not use it. > Then she talked about life after death, and gave many > details. It was for me something of a discovery of a different > aspect of the teachings. I had never been very concerned > with it. She really drew it to our attention that we have only > one life to get ready for it, that we must be prepared, that we > must pray and meditate every day, that we have only once > the opportunity to know the Manifestation of God on this > planet. … > Within five or six months of Dorothy Baker’s visit several > local assemblies were formed in several different cities. She > brought us a lot, and she left a lot. … > Dorothy’s own memories of the same period in Brussels were > centered, as were all her recollections of that 1948 trip to Europe, > on the Bahá’ís she met there, not on herself. She wrote, > > Brussels was the scene of day and night activity, with the > Hotel de Boeck, except for one large downtown meeting, > the stage center for peace leaders and the many friends and > contacts of the Bahá’ís. On the last evening the little parlors > overflowed into the hall. A tender note was struck by a Do- > minican priest, recently disrobed for the sake of his con- > science. He sat in the farthest row back. A pioneer who had > given him a book some months before, recognized him and > spoke to him. “What do you think now?” she asked. He > lowered his head for a moment and then replied with > unaffected simplicity: “I have found the truth.” A hero had > found Bahá’u’lláh.1 > In Brussels Dorothy Baker and John Robarts, who had served > with her on the National Spiritual Assembly of the United States > and Canada, were together again on the program for a public > meeting. That morning Mr. Robarts woke up with laryngitis and > a sore throat. He recalled that Dorothy told him, “Don’t worry > about it, but get yourself to the meeting anyway. I am to be your > chairman. I will not embarrass you but if, even at the last minute, > you feel that your throat is clearing, you may have an experience > that I once had. I had the same sort of throat, but got to the > meeting anyway and suddenly, when my turn came to speak, my > throat cleared and I addressed the meeting without any trouble. > John, just relax. Don’t worry about the meeting. Pray, and I will > pray with you.” > He arrived at the meeting in silence. When Dorothy got to the > point of introducing the speaker, she looked over at him. He nod- > ded that she should go ahead with it. Then, to his own amaze- > ment, he spoke without any trouble. Later, still astonished at what > had happened, Mr. Robarts commented, “Well, it was Dorothy > Baker who got me through that one.” A few years later Mr. Robarts > > Dorothy K. Baker, “A View of Pioneering,” in Bahá’í News, no. 207 (May 1948), pp. 9-10. > > 48. Dorothy Baker in Lisbon, 1948. > > and his wife, Audrey, were named Knights of Bahá’u’lláh because > of their move to Bechuanaland. In 1957, Shoghi Effendi appointed > John Robarts a Hand of the Cause of God. > Dorothy’s trip made her even more sensitive to the sacrifices > and confirmations of the Bahá’ís who leave their homes to settle > in new countries with the hope of spreading the teachings of Bahá’- > u’lláh. > Pioneering is ecstasy and tears; bad food, cold rooms, dark > pensions, and periods of fruitless waiting; yearning souls, sud- > den illumination, an outreaching public and new convic- > tion of the “power that is far beyond the ken of men and of > angels.” … > From Oslo to Lisbon the pioneers are singularly suited to > their tasks, as if by Providence ordained to them. … > But Dorothy was not naive. In the same report on her trip abroad > she proved her understanding of the distance still to be traveled > in the work of the Faith. > Europe is frustrated and often skeptical, living in fear and > believing in nothing. But Europe is groping too, and in search > of a soul, and the part of her that finds it will go to almost > any length to keep it. The new believers are the eyes of Eu- > rope; they alone can look ahead. To them the Cause is the > difference between everything and nothing.1 > In 1949, a year after the European tour, Dorothy set out for the > International Teaching Congress in Guatemala. A cable from the > Guardian was analyzed by a committee of the Congress and from > his suggested activities—“EXTEND SCOPE TEACHING, CONSOLIDATE > ASSEMBLIES”—a two-year plan was drawn up with specific goals. > > ibid, p. 9. > > Dorothy was impressed by the diligence and hard work of the > Bahá’ís of Central America and the Antilles. However, the out- > standing attainment of this Congress in her mind, “was the greater > understanding which the delegates acquired of the Guardian and > a tremendous deepening in their love for him.” > Edward and Mary Bode were Americans who had established > the first Local Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of Beverly Hills, > California, before pioneering on three continents including Eu- > rope, where they lived in Holland for nine years. While in > Amsterdam they received a letter from Dorothy in which she again > expressed her devotion to Shoghi Effendi: > What a perfectly marvelous letter from the Guardian! His > discernment, love, and inexhaustible wisdom continue to > be an unanswerable proof to the validity of the Cause. How > could anyone fail to see it who had the privilege of witness- > ing it as it unfolds in life after life, in treatise after treatise, > and in deed after deed of magnificent, international dimen- > sions? I remember sometimes poignantly what dear Rúḥíyyih > Khánum wrote her Mother in May’s last days in New York. > She said, “Somehow, Mother, I am coming to believe that > all my salvation is linked up in some inexplicable way with > the Guardian and that without him I am like a bit of chaff” > (I think she said) “on an endless ocean.” In these uncentered > times, when all the dark forces of the world are converging > in wars and greed and prejudice, thank God for our Guard- > ian, for his peace and calm and wisdom and unyielding loy- > alty to our goals. I feel as if I were sitting with the three of > you and sharing your joy at this moment. > Dorothy’s faith in Shoghi Effendi was explicit and unwavering. > Just after the Guatemala Congress Dorothy corresponded with > > Cora Oliver, a pioneer elected to the first National Spiritual As- > sembly of Central America, Mexico, and the Antilles, and later > named a Knight of Bahá’u’lláh for her early settlement in British > Honduras. Dorothy wrote to Cora, “if a door opened and Latin > America or Europe beckoned and the Guardian said walk through > it … some way would open to take care of it surely.” > In 1950, drawn by the goals of the Guardian’s second Seven > Year Plan, Dorothy represented the National Spiritual Assembly > of the United States and the Inter-America Committee at both > the Annual Congress for Central America, held this time in El > Salvador in April and the fourth Annual Congress for South > America held in Lima, Peru in May. > While Frank and her mother traveled to Portugal to visit Louise > and Hubert, Dorothy boarded a southbound train and, stopping > here and there for North American teaching, headed toward San > Salvador and the International Congress. She wrote a letter to her > family aboard the “Frisco Lounge Car.” > > 1950 > Easter eve > Hi Dears! > Well, we’ve just gone through Will Rogers country, and > are entering Arkansas. I think thus far we have kept up the > record of a fresh study class in every city, though Oklahoma > City was tougher. Soon Jackson and mail; I must confess > I’m anxious. Only Eureka and Little Rock to go first. Wish I > could see you tonight. > > April 11 > Riding on a bus thru the Ozarks, and what a country! > Eureka is a little Shangrila, hanging up on a hill like an eagle’s > > nest. I stayed at this hotel, and I think the asst. manager, > Charlie Smith, is going to sign up and be the historic ninth, > even tho’ he is a Catholic and has had all his children > confirmed. His wife was the even more historic first, and > there was bitterness. He alone was worth coming for and > that precious group had 45 people out last night! It’s such a > village in its psychology, too. > > Little Rock > Three letters, and how I gobbled them! I could see the > water systems and furniture lining up, and imagined myself > eating a bit of garden lettuce. Endive coming up? > And by this time Wetchi1 is with you. Greetings to Wetchi; > I would love to know her. > This afternoon I am to call on the Governor of Arkansas, > and they say he is very fine. [Later she writes: “This fell > through.” D.F.G.] Last night we had a grand meeting, with > photographers and wire recorders adding to the pleasant > bustle of the occasion. This is quite a bunch out here. > All my love, > D. > Take some pictures, please! > > Jung Hotel > New Orleans > Well, well! Here I am ‘way down in NO [New Orleans] > > Hubert’s sister. > > ready to hop over. This is the last line in some time, per- > haps. > Mother’s note in Jackson was so sweet I am sending it to > Edna True: she will be so thrilled by Louise’s activities. > I am meeting with the Area TC1 here and with the Com- > munity and with the public, and a hundred errands in town > to do, but Tues. (18th) the little old Pan Am will pull out for > Mexico with Dottie just front of the wing, and a Katy True > capsule inside. Don’t forget to pray for me! > Study groups don’t line up for us here as readily as north- > ward but individuals like to be worked with on a social ar- > rangement with reading off-side. The south is surely conser- > vative. But they are fine stuff. > Elisabeth Cheney has been very ill, and is about to go > home. Better, but not good. She may be IAC [Inter-America > Committee] secty. next year, if well, but she can’t take Latin > countries any more. > Milly Collins has taken a flying trip to Puerto Rico and > Haiti to insure elections, and may pop over to the Salvador > Congreso. Brave little heart! Europe just about did her up. > Everywhere the Central Amer. area hangs in the balance, > and we are all rolling our sleeves ‘way up. > Big hugs to our two children; every day I think of you > and am so thankful you are all together. > Dearest love—D > Here is the Crescent, on top of Eureka Springs. It used to be > a hospital. Now you can be there and have good meals and > > Teaching Committee > > good rooms not too expensively and go fishing in a dozen > directions and have your fish cooked for breakfast—Some > time, maybe, Franko! Climate like Portugal’s hills. > Dorothy’s presence at the two congresses in San Salvador, El > Salvador, and Lima, Peru, was important because these were the > last international gatherings to be held in South and Central > America before the Annual Conventions the following year and > the formation of National Spiritual Assemblies in those regions. > As a representative of the National Spiritual Assembly of the > United States and of the Inter-America Committee, Dorothy’s > specific mission was to help bring about full consultation on the > particular problems that the Latin American National Spiritual > Assemblies would be facing when they came into existence the > next year. > Julius Edwards, a delegate from Jamaica who was later named > a Knight of Bahá’u’lláh in Africa, made something of a sensation > in San Salvador. He was conscious that few people of African > descent lived in that Central American city; on the street, people > were intrigued with the color of his skin and would stop and > smile at him as he passed. > Many seekers were invited to the opening session of the Con- > gress. A Salvadorean ambassador to another country, newly aware > of the Bahá’í stand on racial harmony and unity, arose after the > keynote address and spoke enthusiastically, explaining his own > experience with persecution in other countries because of his Latin > origin. He ended his remarks with an emotional declaration that > he intended to write a book on the subject and have it printed > with white ink on black paper to emphasize his newly awakened > desire for racial amity. > A retired Salvadorean police inspector stood up in the audience > and vehemently began to address the ambassador, condemning > > his idea as ridiculous, and announcing to the rest of the assem- > blage that the obvious motive for his desire was financial reward. > Julius Edwards, the only black in the audience, sat quietly listen- > ing. Then he heard Dorothy Baker’s voice. > “Mr. Chairman, would you kindly give Mr. Edwards the floor?” > From the podium he addressed the ambassador. “Señor, I have > had similar experiences of racial prejudice.” He stretched out his > hands to the man and in a strong voice said, “I conquered!” > With a great smile the ambassador leaped up and embraced > Julius. The spirit of the first session was changed from one of > bickering conflict to unity, and the tone was set for the remainder > of the five-day Congress. > Soon after, Dorothy received five dozen roses from the ambas- > sador, who was obviously impressed with her diplomatic powers. > Alfred Osborne was an educator who became a Bahá’í in Panama > and was later appointed as a member of the Continental Board > of Counselors. Watching Dorothy in Latin America, he wrote: > I was particularly impressed because I felt that she had given > up some of her comforts, some of her style of living, be- > cause it was evident that she came from a very good, solid > background, in order to mingle with the people and teach > the Faith. She did not register at the expensive hotels. She > and Louise Caswell used to live in little third-rate hotels or > pensions. I remember attending a number of deepening > classes, sponsored by Louise Caswell and taught by Dorothy > Baker. I thus had an opportunity to see how they were living > and the sacrifices they were making. Louise always struck > me as being a sort of aristocratic person; a lovely, very sweet > Bahá’í, who could adjust so beautifully, and accommodate > herself, and Dorothy Baker as the same. These pensiones did > not have private baths. Facilities were shared by all who lived > > there. I never once noticed any feeling of repugnance or re- > gret or disdain in those two pioneers as they went about > their work of teaching the Cause. > Dorothy’s vision of pension living was somewhat different. She > wrote to Frank and her mother, > This little Pension serves three squares a day anyway, even if > you don’t have private baths, and I have a sala with my bed- > room for the committee to come to, which saves me from > running around. It is rudimentary, but clean and honest. > And lots of fresh pineapple etc. I have felt fine right along, > all but one day in Lima, Peru, where I must have had a touch > of the tourist tummy. Am wondering how you both got > along. > > Her lifestyle was simple, her attitude loving, and her magnetism > was difficult to describe adequately. > Dorothy reported thoroughly to the Guardian on the many > activities of the Inter-America Committee, which she had served > on beginning in 1944. In The Priceless Pearl, Rúḥíyyih Khánum > wrote that the first Seven Year Plan, begun in 1937, had a “triple > task.” The final aspect of the plan was “to create one centre in > each Latin American Republic ‘for whose entry into the fellow- > ship of Bahá’u’lláh’ Shoghi Effendi wrote ‘the Plan was primarily > formulated.’”1 > The Inter-America Committee’s diligent efforts met with whole- > hearted encouragement from the Guardian. > > Rúḥíyyih Rabbání, The Priceless Pearl (London: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1969), p. 9. > > Haifa, > Israel, > February 18, 1951 > Mrs. Dorothy Baker, Chairman, > Inter-America Committee > Dear Bahá’í Sister: > I have been instructed by our beloved Guardian to acknowl- > edge receipt of your letters dated as follows: > January 3rd and 30th, June 4th, 8th and 10th, August > 1st, September 27th and October 28, 1950. He has also > received the many enclosures and photographs forwarded in > these letters. > He feels that the work accomplished by your Committee > and its very active members during the past year has been > highly effective and gone a long way towards insuring suc- > cess during the elections for the two new National Spiritual > Assemblies this coming April. … > The success likewise of the two Congresses was marked > and most encouraging. … > He feels that the Inter-America Committee has played a > singularly historic part in the development of the Cause, in > the prosecution of the second Seven Year Plan, and in > reflecting glory on the entire North American Bahá’í Com- > munity. It is wonderful to see how the spirit of Bahá’u’lláh > has sustained the believers in carrying out this tremendous > project, and how their efforts have been blessed, in spite of > many difficulties to be overcome and many heartbreaks on > the part of all concerned. He, himself, is immensely proud > of what has been done, and congratulates your Committee > on the splendid work it has achieved and the example it has > set. … > > He assures you one and all of his loving prayers and his > deep appreciation of the services you have so selflessly ren- > dered the Cause of God. … > With warm Bahá’í love, > R. Rabbani > P.S.—I am enclosing a little message from the beloved Guard- > ian addressed to those who wrote him on the occasion of > the Fourth Bahá’í Congress for South America. Will you > please see that it is shared with the believers concerned. > [The Guardian added, by hand] > May the Almighty bless your strenuous, devoted and meri- > torious efforts, aid you to enrich continually the record of > your manifold services, and win still greater victories for His > Faith & its institutions. > Your true and grateful brother, Shoghi > > Between 1943 and 1952 Dorothy visited fifteen Central and > South American countries. Artemus Lamb, then a member of > the National Spiritual Assembly of Central America and later a > Continental Counselor, wrote, > Her influence in Central America is most powerful, and at > the same time mysterious, for in reality she spent only a few > days here on several occasions; yet all loved her deeply and > feel dependent upon her like children upon a mother.1 > In 1951 the National Spiritual Assembly of Iran requested a > record of Dorothy’s travels and experience as a Bahá’í. She re- > sponded as follows: > > Quoted in Mariam Haney, “Dorothy Beecher Baker,” in The Bahá’í World: > A Biennial International Record, Volume XII, 1950–1954, comp. National > Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States (Wilmette, Ill.: > Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1956), p. 673. > > Member of the National Spiritual Assembly of the United > States from 1937 forward. Four years chairman. 1945–1949. > Present vice-chairman. > Successively chairman of the following national committees: > Assembly Development Committee > Louhelen School Committee > Child Education Committee > Radio Committee > Race Unity Committee > College Speakers Bureau > Inter-America Committee > National Programming Committee > Inter-Continental Committee > Teaching: National Assembly representative in the his- > toric first National Convention of Canada and Central > America. Eight teaching journeys to Latin America, one to > Europe, two to Canada. Attendance at five Latin American > and one British Congress. Following countries and prov- > inces visited: > Latin America Canada Europe > Mexico Ontario England > Guatemala Quebec Eire > Honduras New Brunswick Scotland > El Salvador Norway > Costa Rica Sweden > Panama Denmark > Cuba Holland > Jamaica Belgium > Puerto Rico Luxembourg > > Venezuela France > Columbia Switzerland > Peru Italy > Argentina Spain > Paraguay Portugal > Brazil > > The Colleges: In one hundred and forty colleges and uni- > versities Bahá’í lectures given in Assemblies or Chapels, most > of them leading to class room discussions, or to further lec- > tures by other speakers, comprising the first organized effort > to spread the Faith in the colleges under a sponsoring com- > mittee; terminated unfortunately by the war. > > The Bounty of Bahá’u’lláh was first conferred through the > faith and generosity of a paternal grandmother, “Mother > Beecher,” with whom I visited His Holiness ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in > the city of New York. It is a blessed thing to remember the > child who sat entranced at the feet of her Lord and received > his all-merciful love. In that hour all fear was replaced by a > passion for all people. Beside this, only one thing remained; > that Bahá’u’lláh is the All-Glorious redeemer and His power > is equal to all things. This fixed principle became, and still is > the fulcrum and pillar of an otherwise impotent life. > Faithfully, in the service of the Guardian, > Dorothy Baker > > Chapter 19 > Growing family & appointment as Hand of the Cause of God, > 1947–1951 > While his mother and sister traveled the globe, Bill Baker, after a > year at Yale University, was drafted into the army. For three-and- > a-half years during the Second World War he served as an army > cook. After the war he returned to Lima, Ohio, to work at his > father’s bakery. The family was very hopeful that Bill Baker would > marry a Bahá’í, but the national community was so small and > spread out that Dorothy feared he would never have the opportu- > nity to meet many Bahá’í girls. She began to make a point of > inviting young ladies to Lima for the weekend so Bill could get to > know them. > It was after a visit from a particularly sweet and pretty girl named > Annamarie Mattoon that Dorothy went to the cornerstone room > at the Bahá’í House of Worship in Wilmette and prayed that Bill > would marry. She prayed for God’s will, but later confessed that > she had had her eye on Annamarie. On December 23, 1947, Bill > married Annamarie at her sister’s home in Wilmette. Members of > the next generation of Bahá’ís were coming into their own. > Annamarie’s sister, Florence Mattoon, had married Otto Zmeskal > seven years before Bill and Annamarie’s wedding. Both Florence > and Otto had been students in Dorothy’s youth classes at Louhelen. > After their wedding Dorothy wrote to them expressing her tender > contemplation of Bahá’í marriage. > > Dearest Flossie and Otto, > You can’t know, and I’m afraid I can never tell you how > happy it makes me to write to a Bahá’í bride and groom, > and especially to have it be you. Our Louhelen days together > have endeared you both to me. … There is no doubt that > your home will become a place of attraction and brilliant > illumination. … I pray that there may be a thousand thou- > sand marriages like yours. It seems to me that it must be a > prototype of the New Day, of all marriages of the future. > Dorothy was very close to Florence and Otto, who, after Bill’s > marriage to Florence’s sister, were now family as well as friends. > Dorothy spoke to them about her son. She told them that she > loved Bill so very much and depended on him. “He is like a rock— > you can count on Bill.” > After his own wedding, Bill Baker went to baking school in > Minneapolis, then back to work at Plezol, the family bakery. The > four-and-a-half years he worked for his father were wonderful > years for Frank and Dorothy. During her travels Frank had Bill > and Annamarie nearby as well as having his son’s able assistance at > Plezol. Dorothy adored coming home to such a rich family life. > Her mother, Luella, now lived with them on Elm Street, and > only twelve miles away at the family farm were her dear son and > his bride, Annamarie. > When Frank’s namesake was born to Bill and Annamarie on > March 5, 1949, Dorothy was overjoyed. She wrote to Cora Oliver: > Here in Lima I have become a grandmother! A darling little > boy, Frank Mattoon Baker, has moved into all our hearts, > and as you may well imagine, directs two households with > no effort at all! He is so sweet and I really do believe will > have many of the fine qualities of his two namesakes, the > > 49. Bill Baker and Annamarie Mattoon’s wedding in Wilmette, > December 23, 1947 > > grandfathers Baker and Mattoon. Bill and Annamarie are > naturally bursting with pride and joy these days. > When Frank junior was very young he adored his grandmother. > After Bill and Annamarie married in December of 1947, Bill con- > tinued to work for his father at the Plezol Bakery. Their growing’ > family lived at Frank and Dorothy’s farm near Lima, Ohio. > Annamarie remembered “Dorothy became an enthusiastic grand- > mother urging and insisting on being allowed to baby-sit. … > The children loved her dearly and Frank … tended to get sick if > > his beloved grandmother’s travels kept her away more than two > months. It is interesting to note that Dorothy Baker’s children > and grandchildren have all pioneered or are now pioneers.” > On Dorothy’s return home from a long trip, she would drive > out to the farm and be greeted, as she got out of the car, by an > ecstatic little boy. Dancing in a ring around her, Frank could not > control his joy at Dorothy’s homecomings. Florence and Otto’s > daughter Ellen visited the farm in the summers and remembers > wonderful rides in the Bakers’ big convertible. > Dorothy relished being a grandmother and was able to see the > family often until 1952, when Bill and Annamarie moved to Illi- > nois. Bill had broken off his studies at Yale before the war and > could now finish his bachelor of science degree at the University > of Illinois, where he also earned a master’s degree in food tech- > nology and a doctorate in biochemistry in 1960. Annamarie re- > called that Bill remained quite active during all of this. “Even > then he was finishing his Ph.D. and, of course, very busy, he was > an attentive father and husband and a very active Bahá’í being > chairman of the Champaign, Illinois, Bahá’í community and of- > ten having two firesides a week.” > One day during their stay in Illinois Bill and Annamarie took > their laundry to a new dry cleaners. The man behind the counter > saw the “Baker” label in their clothes and asked Bill if he was > related to Dorothy Baker. Bill said, “She’s my mother.” The man > was thrilled. He said, “We were good friends!” Four or five years > before, he had attended a Bahá’í talk given by Dorothy while she > was on a teaching trip and had spoken to her afterwards. That > casual meeting had been enough to endear her to him for life. > Conrad Baker, Dorothy’s stepson, graduated from the Yale > University School of Medicine in 1934. He married Marjorie > Wheeler in her hometown of Bridgeport, Connecticut, on July > 23, 1935. Conrad interned at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit > > where his first child, Dwight Conrad Baker was born in Decem- > ber, 1937. > The family moved to Lima, Ohio the following year where > their daughter Marjorie Ann was born in February, 1939. Conrad > and his family lived in Lima for two years where he practiced as a > pediatrician. So though she wasn’t technically a grandmother yet, > Dorothy had plenty of practice with Conrad’s two little ones. > Then Conrad decided to become a resident in anesthesiology at > Cincinnati General Hospital. > When the war broke out Conrad enlisted in the army and served > in England, France, Belgium, and Germany. After the war, Dwight > Baker remembered times with his grandparents, Frank and Dorothy. > About 1947 my parents and Ann and I took a trip to Green > Acre, and Grandma was there too. She was very busy at- > tending NSA meetings at Rogers cottage which had little > meaning for me at that time. In 1948 I went to Green Acre > with just my father. I remember running and playing on > the big porch on Sarah Farmer Hall—which kids are still > doing to this day. … > During a visit to Lima in 1950, Grandma found out that > I was interested in radio broadcasting and engineering. She > went to the trouble of arranging for a visit to the transmitter > tower of the Lima radio station, then drove me over. They > let me stay for most of the afternoon talking to the engineer > on duty and learning about the workings of the radio sta- > tion. In addition Dorothy and Frank also purchased a gift > subscription to my first electronic publication. That really > got me started in what would become my career. > In the spring of 1946 Conrad Baker joined Windham Com- > > munity Memorial Hospital in Willimantic, Connecticut. Conrad > was the first Bahá’í to live in that area. > In the fall of 1948, following Conrad and Dwight’s trip to > Green Acre, a pneumonia epidemic broke out in New England. > As the only anesthesiologist on staff, Conrad was on call at the > hospital twenty-four hours a day and worked endlessly. > Among those who became ill were his two children, Dwight > and Ann. Conrad successfully treated them both with penicillin, > which was a fairly new approach to the treatment of the disease. > When Conrad himself caught pneumonia, the rampage had been > so wide spread that the hospital ran out of penicillin. Conrad > Baker died on November 13, 1948, at the age of thirty-nine, a > devastation for his young family. He was buried in Windham. > Now both of Frank’s children whom Dorothy had met so long > ago at the little boarding house had passed on to the next world. > But Frank and Dorothy had two children, as well. Frank decided > it was time for him to make an overseas trip, and visit Louise. As > Dorothy wrote to Cora Oliver, > Frank and Mother still plan to go to Portugal, and I am > still piling my pennies into the Temple at every turn and > planning to go nowhere. … > I am submerged in plans for the Convention, and am > trying to work in a little circuit or two on the subject of > Temple building and its needs. April will be the worst, > though, and after that life should become more simple. There > are many grave problems immediately ahead of us, and the > Convention is our natural springboard for taking care of > them. … The material side looms up like a mountain be- > fore us; aside from the usual current needs, $850,000 must > be met in two years for the Temple. No wonder the Guard- > ian likens it to the deeds of the martyrs; it’s a little like that > in another way. > > 50. Frank Baker in the 1940s. > Frank and Luella did go to Portugal together in 1950. Although > Dorothy’s financial resources were already marked for the comple- > tion of the House of Worship in Wilmette, she also made a trip > there a year later, in the summer of 1951. At home, Annamarie > was pregnant with her second child; overseas, Louise was preg- > nant, too. On the way to be with her daughter during the birth, > Dorothy sat on ship deck reading Childbirth Without Fear and > > wrote home to Frank, “Am wondering about our Annamarie these > days.” > Settled into the German Hospital in Lisbon to wait for the > baby with Louise, Dorothy received a cable about Bill and Anna- > marie’s new arrival. Dorothy wrote back to Frank, “I am thrilled > that hers is a girl, and ‘spect she and Bill are too. Now she can use > the cunning dresses, and she will feel as if she is playing ‘dolls’! > Anxious to know the name.” > With her new granddaughters safely born, Crystal Louise to > Bill and Annamarie1 in Lima and Dorothy Elisabeth to Hubert > and Louise in Lisbon, Dorothy returned to the United States to > heartbreaking news. During the time she awaited the two births, > her adored friend Louis Gregory had died. With other devoted > admirers of the man whom Shoghi Effendi called “dearly-beloved, > noble-minded, golden-hearted Louis Gregory,”2 Dorothy deeply > > Bill and Annamarie Baker, with their nine-year-old son, Robert, and their > daughter Crystal, pioneered in Peru in 1968. In 1974 they moved to Cochabam- > ba, Bolivia. Annamarie made the adjustment to their new home in South > America a comfortable and happy one for her family and became a teacher and > vital member of their new community. Annamarie died at her post on May 13, > 1995, but she is still much loved. Bill Baker served on the National Spiritual > Assemblies of Peru and Bolivia and was later appointed to the Auxiliary Board. > He founded the Dorothy Baker Institute outside Cochabamba, Bolivia. The > institute is devoted to development in the Alto Plano, the poor, high altitude > communities found on the eastern incline of the Andes Mountains. His em- > phasis is appropriate technologies and grassroots education. > Crystal Baker Shoaie, for many years a member of the National Spiritual > Assembly of Bolivia, and Robert Baker, M.D., are both actively connected > with Núr University in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Frank Baker, Annamarie and Bill’s > eldest son, having pioneered in South America in 1976 and 1977, is now with > the National Center for Supercomputing Applications at the University of > Illinois. > Quoted in Harlan F. Ober, “Louis G. Gregory,” in The Bahá’í World: A Biennial > International Record: Volume XII, 1950–1954, comp. National Spiritual Assembly > of the Bahá’ís of the United States (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1956), > p. 666. > > mourned his passing. In a cable from Haifa the Guardian con- > ferred the rank of Hand of the Cause of God on Louis G. Gregory. > Those assembled at the Louis Gregory memorial service in > Wilmette heard of his outstanding service to the Bahá’í Faith. > Dorothy officiated at the gathering and recounted some of the > many ways Louis gave his life: fourteen years as a member of the > National Spiritual Assembly between 1922 and his retirement in > 1946 and annual participation in college teaching projects and > race amity work. To the Bahá’ís assembled that November day, > his appointment as a Hand of the Cause of God must have seemed > the natural outcome of a life of sacrificial service. > Like Louis Gregory, other Westerners had received this honor > posthumously, but none had yet received it while living. > Dorothy did not see herself as outstanding. She genuinely > seemed to find others more capable and worthy of leadership. In > April of 1951 she wrote to Cora Oliver, > Last year we were chairmen of sister communities; at the > moment we are vice chairmen of Nat’l Assembly (tho’ I go > out of office next week if my real choice steps in,) and more > and more of our tasks follow the same paths as we trudge > along, anyway, though yours is of course infinitely more his- > toric. Fun to think about it so! > Dorothy saw herself as neither the source of the strength and > power others attributed to her, nor above the trials of being hu- > man. Just home from a National Spiritual Assembly meeting, > Dorothy asked Harry Jay, a good family friend in Lima, if she > could talk to him after his noon radio broadcast. She looked de- > jected when he greeted her. When they were alone she told him > there was disagreement at the national Bahá’í headquarters. False > > rumors had been spread about her. Harry was stunned by her next > words and repeated them to his wife that night: “I feel like getting > out of the teaching work—let it all go, and go back to being a > housewife.” > In addition to the personal hurt Dorothy felt from the cruel > and untrue gossip of some individuals, her pain and anxiety were > increased as she was called upon to perform a service she felt un- > sure that she could render. In one of the countries Dorothy vis- > ited, a woman had a strong dislike for a young pioneer. The woman > was determined to have the young man declared a covenant > breaker. However, the National Spiritual Assembly of the area > did take away the young man’s voting rights. > Dorothy was asked to inform the pioneer. She was very dis- > tressed, as she believed the man was innocent of any wrong do- > ing. Obviously the decision had to be obeyed, but Dorothy knew > it would result in his leaving the country as he was there on the > pioneering budget. > A Bahá’í who knew Dorothy well watched her grapple with the > problem. > All night long Dorothy Baker paced her room, praying > for guidance, knowing that the man was innocent. The only > answer she felt was that she must obey the institution, no > matter what the circumstances. Therefore when she went to > tell him, she also told him that although he now lost the > financial assistance he had previously had, he was not re- > quired to leave the country. … he could still teach. He > determined to stay, if it were at all possible. > … She continued to write the young man, encouraging > him. He got a job selling, and stayed in a different city each > night. During the day he worked at his job, and each evening > held a meeting in a different city in the course of each week. > At the end of the year there were seven new communities > > ready to form seven new Local Spiritual Assemblies, in each > of the seven towns he had visited in the course of his work. > … His voting rights were immediately restored. … Dor- > othy Baker said later that because she obeyed she could see > that he was strengthened and assisted by her action, and he > too obeyed fully. > Notes taken from one of her talks show her concern for obedi- > ence to the institutions and the thoughts on which her actions > were no doubt rooted. > The Institutions form the embryonic basis for God’s new > world order and future world divine civilization and are the > main channel through which guidance and blessings flow to > the believers. They have great spiritual power—the Power > of the Covenant—which comes from God. Unity depends > upon firmly adhering, loyally upholding, and lovingly obey- > ing these divinely-ordained institutions. > Dorothy Baker obeyed the institution though the situation was > difficult. Earlier she had found the heart to carry on in the face of > harsh criticism, but this period was one of the most painful of her > Bahá’í life. > Soon after these two incidents Edna True called Dorothy from > the Bahá’í National Center. A cable had been received from Shoghi > Effendi. The scope of the Guardian’s cable was tremendous, cov- > ering the superstructure of the Báb’s Sepulcher, the International > Bahá’í Council, various historic sites in the Holy Land, and the > four upcoming international conferences. Edna did not read all > of it but quoted his last point, > HOUR NOW RIPE TAKE LONG INEVITABLY DEFERRED STEP, CON- > FORMITY PROVISIONS ‘ABDU’L-BAHÁ’S TESTAMENT, CONJUNCTION > > WITH SIX ABOVE-MENTIONED STEPS THROUGH APPOINTMENT > FIRST CONTINGENT HANDS CAUSE GOD. … > > Edna read the names of the three Hands in the Holy Land, the > three in Persia, then those for the American continent: “Horace > Holley, Dorothy Baker ….” Dorothy interrupted. > “Wait, Eddie. You’re kidding!” > Edna repeated the news again and again, as Dorothy contin- > ued to insist it was a practical joke. Dorothy was sure that it had > to be a hoax. As Edna True recalled, she had to insist again. > “I’m not kidding.” > “Yes, you are. You’re kidding. You must be!” > “Please be serious, Dorothy. I’m not kidding.” > “You’ve got to be. There’s no reason why he would appoint me. > Eddie, I think he means you.” > “No, he doesn’t. There’s no chance of a mistake here.” > Years later Edna was still amazed at Dorothy’s persistence. > I kept talking, and it took quite a bit of talking. And I said, > “Now you just go back and think about this, until you real- > ize it’s true.” But she just fought it off. She just knew it was > not true. I said, “Well, you just wait and see; see how things > develop. There isn’t anything more I can tell you except that > it’s sitting right here in front of me, dear, and your name is > on it.” It was so peculiar, trying to persuade somebody that > she was on this very important list. … I was all ready to > explode with excitement, but she put me down to a solid > argument of persuading her. It was characteristic of Dor- > othy. … She even cut off from me still saying, “You’ll find > it’s a mistake. It can’t be true.” > > In Portugal the summer before, Dorothy had given a course > called “What Is a Good Administrator?” In it she listed qualities a > good administrator must have. Among them were: > Detachment: from people, love or dislike, from praise or cen- > sure, from your work. > Frankness: combined with courage and courtesy. > Integrity: in personal affairs consulted on by the Assembly, > and loyalty to Assembly decisions. > Humility: Take the Cause seriously, but don’t take yourself > seriously. > It seems Dorothy had mastered the last quality. As Edna said, > “All her modesty, all her humility came to the top and she just > couldn’t conceive that this could be true.” > To her daughter and son-in-law, Louise and Hubert Matthias, > Dorothy wrote in late December 1951 or very early January 1952, > Darlings, > Wanted you to see this first from me, and not from out- > side sources and read the two long messages of our Guard- > ian. There are twelve Hands! I am amazed, thrilled, baffled, > and uplifted, and only realize vaguely what it all means. > Above all, I am humbled to a small spot. > It is the International phase opening up, and it is over- > whelming. > All my love, > Dorothy > > Shortly after the appointments Leroy Ioas visited the Bahá’ís in > Canada, where Rosemary Sala was living. > > He came to our NSA meeting and we all gazed at him. > Here was a first living Hand of the Cause! A being from > another world! And he looked at us and said, with tears in > his voice, “Oh, don’t look at me like that! You know, we > used to think that the Hands of the Cause were these glori- > ous beings, before whom we would have to bow down, and > now we find that they’re just—they’re just like I am!” and he > broke down and wept. > Then he said, “When Dorothy heard, she lost her voice. > And when Dorothy loses her voice, the birds stop singing. > The world is silent.” > Dorothy described the shock she felt in letters to friends, fam- > ily, and Bahá’í institutions around the world. But as the days passed > there were signs of her growing assurance and understanding, > and finally of the eagerness she felt to begin a “completely new > epoch”: > Alice1 beloved: > How like you that was! > And how my heart flew back to the day when you came > up to a meeting of the Race Unity Committee in Wilmette, > trudged on foot through snow drifts to the depot, sat for > hours wet and ill, went home and took to your bed literally > for months. And during all this time foolish Dorothy, on > four national committees and with many problems at home, > did not write a single line to one who, almost a martyr, must > have often wondered at such seeming ingratitude. Yet my > Alice was one of the first to send a loving appreciation of the > > Alice Cox, a Bahá’í friend who wrote for World Order magazine and re- > viewed articles for that and other publications for many years. > > Guardian’s upsurge of divine bounty to one of his servants > who with eleven others stands completely stunned and lis- > tening. And your promise to pray for us is the most precious > part of your dear message, for we three here are still rooted > to the spot, waiting for some Act of God to pull us up and > propel us forward again in His Path. Alice, to you I can say > that I lost my voice for almost three days and am physically > weak still! It has been like an electric shock. Your prayers are > needed, and I for one shall count on them. Will you pray for > nineteen days, please dear? May I ask for this? And when > you come to my name, ask that the All-Merciful Lord will > lift me to the heaven of true understanding, and pour upon > me, however unworthy, the capacity to gladden the heart of > our adored Guardian and serve him with ringing victories in > every way that his dear heart desires. > Over and over come these sustaining words: “Put your > whole trust and confidence in God Who hath created you, > and seek ye His help in all your affairs. Succor cometh from > Him alone. He succoreth whom He will, with the hosts of > the heavens and the earth.”1 > With a heart full of love and gratitude to you and to all. > Dorothy > Precious Muriel and Ed:2 > The enclosed little envelope is for Bob and his lovely bride. > Please feel free to take it out and read the note and have a > little prayer holding the Holy Dust before they have it. I had > always wanted to give you such an envelope of your own, so > > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Selections from the Writings of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, comp. Research > Department of the Universal House of Justice, trans. Committee at the Bahá’í > World Centre and Marzieh Gail (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1997) > no. 45.1. > Muriel and Ed Miessler. > > add your blessing to this one and pass it along to your chil- > dren. When it is our Margo’s turn, perhaps I shall have been > to visit the blessed spots “situate by the sea” and will have > something for her. Inshallah! These two children of yours > seem so like my own, somehow. At least I don’t see how I > could feel closer! > Your dear letters are going to be kept always, in my file of > treasures. They were so fragrant and wonderful that I could > not help passing them around to Aunty Lou1 and Frank to > read. So great is the new motion in the Cause, through these > things, that almost sixty letters have come, from all over the > world, praising God for the safe advent of so great an inter- > national phase of our Faith, and offering the blessing of > prayers for the newly appointed ones. There is such an in- > termingling of spirit in these days, and such a growing love. > Gladys and Ben Weeden2 are back from Haifa, and are > journeying around a bit before settling down in America > again. They had lunch with NSA last week, and told us so > much of the life at Haifa, and the great trial and suffering of > our beloved there. Fresh attacks have broken out, and the > “mess of pottage” for which the younger generation of the > Holy Family has traded its birthright, is a blow indescrib- > ably harrowing to him. The form it has taken has been mar- > riage to children of the violators, and in every case, resulted > > Luella, Dorothy’s mother; Dorothy’s children called her Aunty Lou. > The Weedens’ wedding in 1948 was the first Bahá’í wedding to occur in > the newly formed State of Israel. Mrs. Weeden assisted in the work of the > Guardian while in Haifa, and Mr. Weeden, among other tasks, was able to > assist in building the superstructure of the Shrine of the Bab. In 1953 the > Weedens were the first Bahá’í pioneers to settle in Antigua, in the Caribbean, > and were named Knights of Bahá’u’lláh. > > in careless indifference or outright rebellion. Please pray for > the Guardian daily. > There were tender things and happy things too, but per- > haps I was in a serious mood (for me) and the poignant side > kept cropping out. I will try to remember everything, to > share with the believers in April when we are alone without > outsiders. One thing that struck me was that our Guardian > travails when something tremendous is to be born, almost > as a mother having a child. He will be absent from meals for > days sometimes and remain in his own apartment. Tension > is often great then, and the household is on tiptoe. Then > comes a burst of something tremendous and world shaking, > and joy rings through the halls again; hearts look up and > thank God, and everyone plunges more eagerly than ever > into the tasks set, tasks demanding an absolute perfection, a > complete obedience, an unquestioning devotion, upon which > in every case hangs the success of any service. How he looks > to us here in the west, not only to awaken the sleeping giant > of the Occident, but to prepare ourselves for world con- > quest. Our home successes must come first, and upon them > the greater task rests. Those who arise are known to God > intimately, in His Day, before the majesty of which all the > worlds quake. I will bring much more when I come. The > believers must work as never before. > I hope that the NSA can save the first half hour of every > day for these things, right in the Convention proper; I am > going to write to dear Manuel1 very soon now, and am only > waiting for the NSA letter from up here to reach him first. > > Manuel Vera, Secretary of the first National Spiritual Assembly of the > Bahá’ís of South America. > > Then we will plan, according to what your NSA can ar- > range. I will not discuss any of these things in the schools > where non-Bahá’ís may be, and when no NSA members can > be present. I can take parts of Drama of Salvation in the > school though, if Bahá’ís and very close students only come. > It should be a close and wonderful time … and the eigh- > teen chosen souls of Latin America committed to the lead- > ership of these continents should be present as much as pos- > sible, I would say. We’ll see, after a little more writing and > consulting. It is a breath-taking time to be alive and con- > scious, and the whole further evolution of glorious Latin > America in the great destiny set for them may depend largely > upon the understanding of a very few. Then we are ready for > the multitudes. In a letter to our Guardian this very week it > came to me so strongly to say, when mentioning problems > still existing, that the two National Assemblies raised up in > the Latin continents were complete assurance of victory. He > is impressed, I know he is, with these remarkable beginnings > in administration. > Our two little families are thriving. Annamarie and Bill > have two exquisite babies, and Louise and Hubert have a > little pioneerling there that seems to hold extraordinary prom- > ise. … > If Bob and Myriam cannot cash these two ordinary little > checks, just send them back, and I will put them both into > one American Express. We thought such small ones would > have no trouble. A big hug to both of them for all of us, and > please let us know all of the news on the family front. Per- > haps I can stop off for a peek at them myself; who knows? I > do nothing any longer, of course, without direction. > All my love, and heartfelt thanks, > Dorothy > > PS. I am afraid that the wire recorder would be impossible > this time, due to teaching materials. Let’s watch for the very > first one going by boat, and send it along then. Too bad dear > Margot Worley did not know. There will be others. > Response to a letter from Valeria Nichols > Feb. 1, 1952 > The appointments were staggering, like an electric shock > around the world. And each fleck of dust named has been > galvanized into new streams of tho’t and action by a power > outside himself. > May the Beloved assist us to give our all on the altar of > Shoghi Effendi, and add to his joy and strength daily. We > can never be worthy, but He is the All-Merciful. > * * * > > 615 W. Elm Street > Lima, Ohio > USA > Feb. 4, ‘52 > Luxembourg Bahá’í Assembly > Luxembourg—Ville, G.D. > Luxembourg > > Beloved Friends: > Your fragrant letter brought back so plainly the beautiful > city of Luxembourg and my heart leaped across the sea to > embrace you all in your wonderful work for the blessed king- > > dom. I often think with intense gratitude of the visit to Eu- > rope and my precious association with you all. How glor- > ious it has been to watch your progress, and what sturdy be- > lievers Europe can boast today, to say nothing of her prom- > ise for the future! > I beg you all to pray that in these soul-shaking days we > who have been appointed to the new responsibilities incum- > bent upon the Hands, may be enabled to so serve our re- > vered Guardian as to bring increasing joy to his overbur- > dened heart. This is our common prayer and whole desire. > Knowing your love and depth of understanding, I can with > the greatest assurance ask you to share in it. > The appearance of these institutions is still another sign > to us all that the Faith can now sustain, outwardly and in- > wardly, the impact of world recognition and world adminis- > tration. God be praised that you and I have been privileged > to see this! Please give to the dear friends of the Luxem- > bourg Community, most loving greetings. May we meet > together many times, and each time with a greater victory to > offer. > Warm Bahá’í love, > Dorothy Baker > > 51. 1951: Dorothy Baker, Hand of the Cause of God. > > Chapter 20 > International responsibilities & pioneering plans, 1951–53 > Bahá’í News > June 1951 > The delegates and friends gathered for the first historic Con- > ventions of Latin America, celebrated in Panama City and > Lima, Peru, had the joy and bounty of receiving, through > the good offices of Mrs. Amelia Collins, a priceless gift from > our Guardian to the first National Spiritual Assemblies of > those great territories, of a lock of the blessed hair of His > Holiness, Bahá’u’lláh. > This precious relic, designated for the first National ar- > chives of the newly elected Assemblies, was presented by > the visiting members of the United States National Spiritual > Assembly, Miss Edna True and Paul Haney in Lima, Peru, > and Mrs. Dorothy Baker and Horace Holley in Panama City. > The effect was “electric,” to quote the friends, and all hearts > melted into an extraordinary unity as they turned to Haifa > and the Guardian in thanksgiving for their many newly con- > ferred blessings. > > Before traveling to South America the following year, in 1952, > Dorothy made a valiant effort to pave the way for comprehensive > deepening on the message and meaning of Bahá’u’lláh’s revela- > tion. She had helped with a one-hundred-and-thirty-four-page > > study guide she wanted to use there. It was titled The Drama of > Salvation: Days of Judgement and Redemption. Published by the > Bahá’í Publishing Committee in Wilmette, the book presents the > coming of each of God’s messengers through the ages as “the most > important single event in the era of which He is a part. For through > Him the Word of God is ‘made flesh and walks among men.’” > The reader is brought into immediate contact with the power of > the summons of Bahá’u’lláh, “He Who is the sovereign Lord of > all is come. The Kingdom is God’s.”1 > Dorothy went to great lengths to make translations of The > Drama of Salvation available in South America in time for the > pre-Convention school. On April 5, 1952, she wrote to pioneers > in South America, > I do have a very great favor to ask of you, Evie and Ed, by > way of making my little look-in at Buenos Aires really pro- > ductive. It has to do with Drama of Salvation. I got Sarah > Pereira to translate it, and Ev Larson to set it up on stencils > and run it off, and as it turned out that my Part III was > never received by them, that meant that Elizabeth Cheney > had to be tied up to setting it up, doing the translating her- > self, and running it off here. … I have sent a load to Costa > Rica and a load to B.A., with several samples of corrected > copies, that is corrected by pen and ink, having corrected all > that I possibly have time for here, and am asking you two > down there, and Louise Caswell and Art Lamb up there, to > hire it out, so to speak, and have ready when I come. I will > pay fifty cents a course for the pen and ink corrections, and > each course will take an hour and a half or two hours to do, > so of course, it is not adequate payment. It is just a stipend > of love, with a plea that it will be direct and real service to > the Faith as well as a little pocket money. … You know who > > Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, trans. Shoghi > Effendi, 1st ps ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1983), p. 210. > > could use just a little pocket money, and who will sit right > down and get it done immediately. … And no-one is to be > bashful about taking it; they will find ways to use it, for the > Cause if not for themselves, and many need it personally > these days. I only wish I could offer more in each place, but > it cost me $25 to send it all down by air, a necessity now. > Oh, dear ones, I wake up in the nights praying for you > valiant ones these days; something in me pulls on the heart > strings as never before. God reward your steadfastness. > In a letter written May 27, 1951, Dorothy congratulated Ed > Miessler on his “election to the first Nat’l Assembly of South > America. … victory after victory awaits that new Pillar of the U. > House of Justice.” Then, at last, she was there again. Dorothy > first attended the Central American Annual Convention in Pana- > ma, then went on to the South American Annual Convention > held April 29–May 2 in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Muriel Miessler, > one of Lima, Ohio’s pioneers to the Latin field, was present in > Buenos Aires. > Muriel and Dorothy were very close. It was in Dorothy’s house > that she and her husband decided to pray about pioneering. The > incident described by Muriel below was kept confidential for > twenty-five years. > There was a particularly stormy session of the Convention > in progress—I need not say what was the problem, but it > was one that was testing the very faith of some of those > present. As I was not a delegate, I was not present, but was > sitting in a nearby room doing some typing for the NSA. > This room had been prepared to hold the sacred relics, > Bahá’u’lláh’s hair was lying there in a frame, together with > some small things of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and some sacred writ- > > 52. Convention of South America, Buenos Aires, 1952. > Dorothy Baker is standing in the center wearing a dark suit > with white collar and buttons. > > ings, and the room was decorated with flowers and pictures. > It was at the moment a little shrine. > Suddenly Dorothy came in from the Convention room. I > could see that she was agitated, though she talked calmly > enough. She walked around, touching this and that. Sud- > denly, at some word I uttered to the effect that it was sad > that some would have to leave the Convention early and > would not be able to hear a particular message which she > was to bring, she began pacing up and down and praying > aloud. I felt that I was just no longer present in her con- > sciousness, as she prayed with tears streaming down her face, > her shoulders shaking, calling out again and again to Bahá’- > u’lláh, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá and Shoghi Effendi. She knelt down and > clasped the blessed hair of Bahá’u’lláh to her breast, and cried > for help. She was in agony even as Christ was in the Garden > of Gethsemane. And her agony was entirely for the beloved > > Cause—her whole suffering was for the unity of the believ- > ers and their progress. Her words—though not loud—rang > in that room and echoed and re-echoed, and I felt such a > Presence that I cannot describe it. Finally, she stood, calmed, > smiling, serene—and went into the Convention room. And > there was a new peace there immediately. > At the close of the incident, Dorothy looked at me with a > world of emotion in her eyes, and said, “This is between > you and me, isn’t it, Muriel?” And I gave her my word— > except that I could share it with Edmund. Now—perhaps, I > am released from that promise—I’m sure if it would do any > good, Dorothy would release me. > Margot Miessler took notes one afternoon when Dorothy did > speak in Buenos Aires. Dorothy placed great emphasis on The > Dispensation of Bahá’u’lláh and the Will and Testament of ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá. > The Guardian pleads with us to speak of the greatness of > the Cause, its world scope. He begs us to give it prestige. Do > not speak of it as if it were your own little, personal philoso- > phy; it is the salvation of God for this day, and without it > the planet becomes nonexistent. Mrs. Baker explained that > teaching falls into three categories of which the first is the > fire of attraction, and every single believer is responsible for > this. But it is only the first step. > The experience of the heart is important, but it is not > enough. Now the Guardian has said that a basic study of > Bahá’u’lláh and the New Era is necessary, and that for the > third stage—preparation for membership—we have the > Dispensation of Bahá’u’lláh and The Will and Testament of > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. > > Now, I think we do not yet realize the importance of The > Dispensation. If you could all go home and tell the believers > in your community this: that just as The Aqdas was the Book > of Laws and gave us the laws, the succession and the institu- > tions of the Faith, and The Will and Testament of ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá was the charter of the world order, so The Dispensation > has its place, for it stands as the testament of the Guardian. > In it he plainly defines the place of the Guardianship in rela- > tion to the world order. > It is interesting, in the absence of an actual will at the time of > the Guardian’s death five years later, that Dorothy Baker called > The Dispensation of Bahá’u’lláh his testament. > At the request of the National Spiritual Assembly, she remained > in South America after the 1952 Convention to teach. > She wrote home to Frank and the family: > > May 4 [1952] > Dearest Folks: > I have not finished the school courses, but will just begin > a letter home and see how far I get. > There are many problems, and this National Assembly is > so pressed; I wish I could wave a wand for them; they are so > valiant. After the school, we are going to take rooms to- > gether in town and finish up. Then it looks as if I will go to > Brasil via Paraguay. Asunción needs it. There seem to be > many more problems here than in Central America. … > It is beastly cold here, and there is no heat. We have a > cottage system with a central eating place. At noon it is warm > > in the sun, and the rest of the time we freeze. But the hearts > are warm and the spirits high. > Tomorrow we visit Quilmes, the cemetery where May > Maxwell is buried, to pay tribute to her and to hold a Me- > morial service for Sutherland Maxwell. … > > May 6 > School over and we have all flocked in to town for NSA > meetings. We are staying at a little hotel where there is heat, > which never gets turned on because it is not cold enough > yet. But I keep my coat on night and day and get along all > right. > Before coming in I cabled for prayers and the prayers of > the friends because only the power of prayer can accom- > plish what has to happen here. When I get to Brasil I will > write more. Already I feel the help, and do so appreciate it. … > > May 10 > Sorry this is so disjointed, alas! Will mail this today, but > want to say that two meetings a day are now arranged up to > Tuesday, May 20, when I take off for Asunción. Tell Elisabeth > to get busy on help for Asunción, her baby, at that time! I > am not exaggerating when I say that this stay in Buenos Aires > is more important than anything else on the whole trip, and > miracles are happening. They have to happen, and now. > If June 7 is too late for strawberries, maybe someone could > give me a hand on a crock of good jam, and I’ll let the freez- > ing go. > All my love—Keep with me—Dottie > Gayle Woolson, a member of the National Spiritual Assembly > > of South America, recalled that she and Dorothy were offered a > lovely apartment in Buenos Aires which belonged to Mr. Carlos > Foos, “who generously gave us full use of his home and went > somewhere else to stay while we were there. What a great joy it > was to be together!” Gayle continued, > The next day we were visited by a wonderful Bahá’í couple > of Jewish background who resided in Buenos Aires, Jose and > Zulema Mielnik, who were rather new in the Faith. They > had met and heard Dorothy at the recent Convention and > Bahá’í school and were so deeply impressed that they re- > quested to have an appointment to visit her. When this couple > entered the door they were already in a state of exhilaration > over the expectation of seeing Dorothy Baker. She received > them with much joy and graciousness, and enveloped them > with her radiant love. After we were seated, Dorothy spoke > beautifully to them about various aspects of the Faith in- > cluding references in the Bahá’í Faith about Jesus Christ. > Dorothy quoted the writings of Bahá’u’lláh concerning Jesus > Christ by heart. According to Gayle, she recited from memory > the following passage from Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’- > lláh. > Know thou that when the Son of Man yielded up His breath > to God, the whole creation wept with a great weeping. By > sacrificing Himself, however, a fresh capacity was infused > into all created things. Its evidences, as witnessed in all the > peoples of the earth, are now manifest before thee. The deep- > est wisdom which the sages have uttered, the profoundest > learning which any mind hath unfolded, the arts which the > ablest hands have produced, the influence exerted by the > > most potent of rulers, are but manifestations of the quick- > ening power released by His transcendent, His all-pervasive > and resplendent Spirit. We testify that when He came into > the world, He shed the splendor of His glory upon all cre- > ated things.1 > Gayle continued, > After a few moments Dorothy went out of the room briefly > to get something. In that interval the couple looked at me > with glistening eyes and ecstatic countenances and said, “We > feel as though we have been at the Altar of God.” I, too, was > in that same state of feeling transported to the Presence of > God. This was a powerful characteristic of Dorothy Baker. > Dorothy’s travels in Latin America in 1952 took her to Argen- > tina; Paraguay; Rio de Janeiro and São Paolo, Brazil; Puerto Rico; > Jamaica; Costa Rica; Camagüey, Cienfuegos and Havana, Cuba; > then again to Miami, Florida. > While pioneering in Brazil, Muriel and Edmund Miessler al- > ways loved Dorothy Baker’s visits. She was their spiritual mother. > But those were busy times during her travels, always packed with > Bahá’í activity. Dorothy longed to see more of the Miesslers, too. > The needs of the Faith were great, though, and now she was a > Hand of the Cause, with even more responsibilities. But Muriel > remembered one day when time stopped, just for them. > It happened one Sunday when Edmund and I were resting > after having had a terrific week. We were so tired that we > decided that we would not answer either the telephone or > the door bell. So, we turned over—and before we were asleep, > the door bell rang. We looked at each other. And stayed in > > Bahá’u’lláh, quoted in Shoghi Effendi, The Promised Day Is Come, 3d ed. > (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1980), ¶269. > > bed. It rang again, and again we looked at each other with a > question in our eyes. But we didn’t answer it. It rang again, > impatiently, and Edmund said, “All right. I’ll answer it.” Guess > who it was! Our beloved Dorothy! She had been in Asuncion > and was supposed to come to us on the following Sunday, > but there was a pending air strike, and she took the last plane > available out to São Paulo. It was the most beautiful surprise > imaginable, and we had a FEAST for a whole week, with > nothing else really planned. I’ll never forget how humbly > proud I was one time when Dorothy listened to a remark > that I made and said: “I can use that, Muriel”—I had al- > most too much love and adoration for her. She really was > one of the Chosen Ones. > On Dorothy’s stopover in Miami before returning home from > South America, she spoke with the Bahá’ís, including Lucile Buffin, > who had visited Lima, Ohio, almost twenty years before. Lucile > noted two comments Dorothy made in Miami: > “You know, in the Bible it says, ‘Take heed what ye set your > heart upon, for it shall surely be yours’” … at this same > meeting I remember hearing her say, “There is only one thing > in this life that I dread and that is growing old. I hope when > I go I shall go with my boots on.” > During the South American trip Dorothy had to rise at 2 A.M. > one morning to catch her plane from Buenos Aires to Paraguay. > Gayle Woolson had been with her until that point. Sure that > Dorothy was badly in need of further rest, Gayle suggested she > might sleep on the plane, but Dorothy answered, “No, I never > can sleep on a plane. The greatest sacrifices I make for the Bahá’í > Faith are to leave my husband and to travel by plane.” > > But she made these sacrifices and she was confirmed. God had > granted her the physical strength to carry on. She traveled the > world, served her Lord, her family, and her home community. If > one desire was left unfulfilled it was the desire she had expressed > to Rúḥíyyih Khánum in a letter dated February 2, 1943: > My heart’s love once again to the blessed Guardian. When > next you have the privilege of entering the Tomb of the > Blessed Beauty, dearest Rúḥíyyih, will you pray that my life > may be a ransom to the Guardian? I cannot do this, but I > believe that He will answer your prayer. A thousand thanks. > Tenderest love > Dorothy > > In 1953, exactly ten years after writing that letter, Dorothy > made her pilgrimage to that most sacred spot. Her prayers there > surely reflected the same devoted hope: to be allowed to offer her > life as a ransom to free Shoghi Effendi from distress or harm. In > February 1953, on her way to the Kampala Intercontinental Con- > ference, she was welcomed to the Guardian’s presence, where story > has it that in greeting her he said, “Welcome, welcome, a thou- > sand times welcome, my martyr pilgrim.” > Dorothy anticipated “that at the Guardian’s table” she might > see “new vistas and sense indescribable joy ahead.” In her pilgrim’s > notes, copied by Elsie Austin, who was present during much of > Dorothy’s pilgrimage, she recorded the following words of Shoghi > Effendi, spoken to the Bahá’ís gathered at dinner: > The planet is the footstool (of God). The Holy Land is in > the heart of the planet. It is the meeting place of three con- > tinents—and is the nest of the Prophets. > > He went on to describe the sacred place where the Báb’s remains > lie, much as he had described it in his message of March 29, > 1951, to the Bahá’ís of America: “Within this Most Holy Land > rises the Mountain of God of immemorial sanctity, the Vineyard > of the Lord, the Retreat of Elijah, Whose return the Báb Himself > symbolizes.” There, on Mount Carmel, are the gardens, “the ex- > tensive properties permanently dedicated to, and constituting the > sacred precincts of, the Báb’s holy Sepulcher. .. Within this shell > is enshrined that Pearl of Great Price, the holy of holies, those > chambers which constitute the tomb itself.” It is this tomb, which > holds the Báb’s remains, that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá “acclaimed as the spot > round which the Concourse on high circle in adoration.”1 > Having spoken of the Holy Land and the Mountain of God, > Shoghi Effendi went on to tell the pilgrims about the connection > of this world with the world beyond, and about the meaning of > the “Supreme Concourse”: > There is a very close connection between the souls beyond > and souls here. This connection depends upon certain > difficult conditions—concentration, purity of heart, purity > of motive. It will be possible to communicate, but do not > attempt to experiment now. > One can even smell the presence of these souls. The Mas- > ter said, “I can smell the spirit and the fragrance of the writer > from this letter, when I opened it.” > The Supreme Concourse are beings of whom we have no > conception, but it includes souls of people who have been > very devoted and other beings as well of whom we are not > aware. The higher the position, the greater the influence. > They rush to the assistance of the sincere servants who arise > now. > We need to develop greater concentration and purity in > prayer. Prayer and action attract the assistance. > > Shoghi Effendi, Citadel of Faith (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, > 1965), pp. 95, 96. > > 53. In Haifa on her long-awaited pilgrimage, > with Luṭfu’lláh Ḥakím, January 1953. > God assures each one that every act is a magnet for the > Supreme Concourse. > The Master said … “As to the question that the holy and > spiritual souls influence, help and guide the creatures after > they have cast off their elemental mold, this is an estab- > lished truth of the Bahá’ís.” > Only these references from Shoghi Effendi concerning the Holy > Land and the next world are available from Dorothy’s pilgrimage. > Within the year she was to make her home near one and in the > other. > Amatu’l-Bahá Rúḥíyyih Khánum knew of the many times Dor- > othy had asked to be allowed to come to the Holy Shrines. Her > first request for pilgrimage was made to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in 1920. > > Then, in 1935, the Guardian accepted her offer to contribute her > travel money to the National Fund for the construction of the > House of Worship. In 1937 the financial tests caused by the per- > secution of the Bahá’ís of Lima again made it impossible to afford > pilgrimage. Then the restrictions imposed because of dangers in > the Middle East limited travel at the time of her 1939 and 1948 > requests for pilgrimage. On each occasion she had been unable to > fulfill her fondest hope. Writing of Dorothy’s pilgrimage, Rúḥíyyih > Khánum recalled, > So you see that when she did eventually come here it was the > fulfillment of a lifelong dream of hers, and I remember go- > ing up to her bedroom the night before she was to leave and > telling her how distressed I was that after waiting so many > years to come on the pilgrimage, she only had seven nights > (due to airplane connections). She gave me an answer which > I have very often quoted to the friends. She said that she felt > that when people came here they were like a dry sponge and > that when they had the experience of the pilgrimage—the > Shrines, the Guardian—in an instant they were filled like a > sponge being plunged into water and that very little more > could be added, so I should not feel sad that she had only > had seven nights. Her beautiful eyes were shining when she > said this and I was deeply touched. > Marguerite Sears went on pilgrimage later that same month, > February, 1953. In her notes from the Guardian’s conversations, > Mrs. Sears has recorded, > The hosts of the supreme Concourse are suspended between > earth and Heaven waiting to assist, but we must be like a > magnet to attract this spirit. This spirit has accumulated > > because it has not been drawn upon. … It requires purity of > heart and extreme concentration to communicate with the > next world. The Bahá’í who turns to God—he not only can > achieve miraculous things, but can exercise a great influence > on others. > In Dorothy’s informal talks with the friends in Haifa, she spoke > of prayer, too. “The power of prayer is dammed up at the chan- > nel, never at the source. Spirituality is a measurable force, like > electricity or light. … Prayer is not conquering God’s reluctance, > but taking hold of God’s willingness.” And she quoted the Bahá’í > writings: “I swear by the Bounty of the Blessed Perfection that > nothing will produce results save intense sincerity.” This attitude > of intense sincerity, according to her son, Bill Baker, was perhaps > the greatest secret of Dorothy’s success. > As a Hand of the Cause, Dorothy Baker attended all four In- > tercontinental Teaching Conferences, during what Shoghi Effendi > described as the “GREAT JUBILEE COMMEMORATING CENTENARY OF > THE TERMINATION OF THE BÁBÍ DISPENSATION BIRTH BAHÁ’U’LLÁH’S > REVELATION SÍYÁH-CHÁL ṬIHRÁN. …” > > Rúḥíyyih Khánum explains the Ten Year Crusade by saying > that there was to be a three-year pause that would lead into the > third Seven Year Plan. Instead there was no wait. > A victorious army, having swept all barriers before it, is of- > ten so exhilarated by its exploits it needs no respite. It is > ready to march on, fired by its victories. This was the mood > of the Bahá’í world as 1953 approached and it was about to > enter the Holy Year. > The highlights of the Holy Year were four great Intercon- > tinental Conferences ….2 > > Shoghi Effendi, “Momentous Announcement of the Jubilee Centenary,” in The > Bahá’í World: A Biennial International Record, Volume XII, 1950–1954, comp. > National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States (Wilmette, Ill.: > Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1956), pp. 24, 115. > Rúḥíyyih Rabbání, The Priceless Pearl (London: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1969), > p. 416. > > As the Guardian wrote, > Let there be no mistake. The avowed, the primary aim of > this Spiritual Crusade is none other than the conquest of > the citadels of men’s hearts. The theatre of its operations is > the entire planet. Its duration a whole decade. Its commence- > ment synchronizes with the Centenary of the birth of > Bahá’u’lláh’s Mission. Its culmination will coincide with the > Centenary of the Declaration of that same mission.1 > Kampala, Uganda, in the heart of Africa, welcomed Bahá’ís > from four continents and nineteen countries at the First Inter- > continental Teaching Conference in February, 1953. Leroy Ioas, > a Hand of the Cause who had given up his executive business > position in the United States to serve Shoghi Effendi in Haifa, > represented the Guardian in Kampala. Mr. Ioas gave his message > to the Bahá’ís who gathered under the large army marquee, a sub- > stantial tent set up on the grounds of the Kampala Ḥaẓíratu’l- > Quds. Of the 232 assembled Bahá’ís, nine men and one woman > were Hands of the Cause of God. Many of the Hands had never > met one another before. Among them were ‘Alí-Akbar Furútan > and Dorothy Baker, who greeted each other for the first time. > The day Dorothy gave her first talk in Kampala, she and many > of the Bahá’ís visited African villages first. Their transportation > got them back rather late, so Dorothy had no time to dress or > prepare herself for the public talk. Mr. Furútan recalled the > evening: > My first impression was of her spirituality—her face, her > eyes; how she looked at the people. I was especially impressed > by the way she talked—a very special way. First she loved > them. You could see from her eyes, her manner, she loved > > Shoghi Effendi, quoted in Rabbání, Priceless Pearl, p. 412. > > 54. Hands of the Cause of God attending the First Intercontin- > ental Teaching Conference, Kampala, February 1953. In the back- > ground is the Kampala Ḥaẓíratu’l-Quds. Left to right: Músá > Banání, Valíyu’lláh Varqá, Shu’á’u’lláh ‘Alá’í, Mason Remey, Horace > Holley, Ṭaraẓu’lláh Samandari, Dhikru’lláh Khadem, Leroy Ioas, > Dorothy Baker, and ‘Alí-Akbar Furútan. > > people. She talked about their beliefs, their history and reli- > gion, their sacred scriptures. Then gradually she began to > talk about the Faith. … Another thing I saw in Hand of > the Cause Dorothy Baker, she did in almost all the meet- > ings. She herself would say a prayer at the beginning and at > the end, in such a way and with such spirituality and feeling > that even Bahá’ís like myself would be uplifted. I felt I was > ascending to heaven; her voice and manner were quite dis- > tinguished. > > 55. Dorothy Baker in Kampala: making a point. > Mr. Afshar, a pioneer to Africa who was present on the occa- > sion, commented years later, > She was in my idea not from this world. In my life I have > seen few people like her, and I haven’t seen any more since > that time. At the time she was speaking English. I could > understand a few words only, but I could follow her tone > and her emotion, and without being able to help it I was > crying. She was talking and I was crying all the time. Her > words were really God’s Word, and I couldn’t imagine that a > human being could do such work, could thrill the world. > As moving as Dorothy’s talk was, it had some repercussions > that hurt her deeply. A member of the press who was present at > her talk reported in the newspaper that the Bahá’ís were in favor > > of “revolution.” Dorothy had repeatedly referred to the Revela- > tion of God, but the journalist had misunderstood. Horace Holley > wrote a piece for the paper that explained the Faith’s true posi- > tion. Though the incident provided wide publicity for the Faith’s > views, Dorothy was very upset that her words were used, misused > really, to shed a false light on the teachings of Bahá’u’lláh. > The effect on most of the native Bahá’ís who heard her speak > was thrilling. Dorothy had been introduced as a relative of Harriet > Beecher Stowe, who wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin and fought against > slavery. Mr. Furútan saw that the people were very excited by her > connection to such an outstanding figure in the history of racial > harmony. He listened as Dorothy explained that, as a Bahá’í, she > appreciated the book and admired the greatness of the soul of > Harriet Beecher Stowe even more. Mr. Furútan, himself a distin- > guished scholar, author, and speaker, remarked that her talk and > her presence “literally raised a tumult and attracted many among > the audience to the Cause of Bahá’u’lláh.”1 > Also present at the Kampala Conference was a young man > whose family members had been in the household of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. He > himself had grown up in Haifa in the time of the Guardian. His > name was ‘Alí Nakhjavání. Almost three decades after the Kampala > conference, Mr. Nakhjavání stood in the lobby of the pilgrim > house in Haifa, where he has served the Bahá’í world as a member > > From 1957 on, the Hand of the Cause of God Mr. Furútan’s presence in > Haifa has had a magnetic effect on the hearts of the thousands of Bahá’í pil- > grims whom he has welcomed so tenderly. ‘Alí-Akbar Furútan was born in > Iran and accompanied his parents to ‘Ishqábád, Russia in April 1914, when he > was nine. He took his degree at Moscow University in child psychology and > education. He was the Secretary of the first National Spiritual Assembly of the > Bahá’ís of Iran and served in that capacity for twenty-four years. He was ap- > pointed a Hand of the Cause of God in 1951. > > of the Universal House of Justice since 1963. He recalled his im- > pressions of Dorothy Baker: > Dorothy was strong in the Covenant. Someone must have > taught her very well about the Covenant. She was in love > with every word of Shoghi Effendi. In front of an audience > it was clear her motive was pure. She knew what she must do > and her object was to help them see what they must do. > She bewitched her audience, not so much with her words > and stories, but with her beauty and dignity, with the way > she delivered her talk, the use of her hands, and the manner > in which she moved them for emphasis. She combined love > with eloquence and wisdom. > In August of 1952, a young woman engaged to a Muslim left > England to meet her fiancé in Mombasa. Her name was Irene > Bennett. Before leaving England she had read Bahá’u’lláh and the > New Era, was deeply affected by it, and handed the book on to > her sister. On the ship she met someone connected with the Aga > Khan schools and was offered a job as a teacher. When she arrived > in Mombasa members of the British colony were so shocked to > find that her fiancé was foreign, they sent her away to Nairobi to > teach in the Aga Khan girls’ school there. > Disgusted with the racial attitudes of the English colony and > discouraged not to be able to live in Mombasa where she could at > least see her fiancé, Ali, Irene decided to go home to England > when the term ended. Then her sister wrote. She had read the > book, Bahá’u’lláh and the New Era, and had become a Bahá’í > Irene went to her first Bahá’í meeting in January of 1953, where > she met many Bahá’ís who were arriving for the conference. On > Tuesday the 24th of January, she became a Bahá’í. On Wednes- > day she was invited to hear Dorothy Baker speak at the United > > Kenya Club. But the opening ceremonies of the school where she > taught were planned for the same evening. At the last moment > she decided to skip the ceremonies and go to the Kenya Club. > Many Bahá’ís were there, en route home to various African > countries from the Kampala Conference. Listening to Dorothy, > Irene began to weep. She said later, “never before had I been un- > able to control my tears, and I felt very much ashamed.” As long > as Dorothy spoke, Irene continued to cry. Mrs. Khadem came > over after the talk and explained to her that this was her spiritual > rebirth. In fact, the impact of her declaration was felt by many > who had attended the conference. Aziz Yazdi told her, “Yesterday > you were our friend. Today you are our sister.” > Irene went home, she said, walking on air. She remembered > thinking, “How can I teach school tomorrow? I can’t do it.” But > when she arrived the headmistress told her a holiday had been > declared at the opening ceremonies the night before, so Irene was > free to lunch with Dorothy and Mabel Sneider. > After lunch, Dorothy asked Irene to tell her about her life. Irene > told about Ali. > Dorothy said, “You must put your trust in Bahá’u’lláh. Before, > Ali was one step ahead of you, and now you must bring him one > step ahead to catch up with you. … You may find, after all, that > you won’t marry Ali …. Would you like me to go and see Ali in > Mombasa? I am flying to Dar-es-Salaam, and I might be able to > change my ticket for a stopover in Mombasa en route.” > In retrospect, it is unbelievable that Dorothy offered this, but > in fact they walked directly to the office of the East African Air- > line and changed Dorothy’s ticket. Dorothy talked to Irene about > serving the Faith. She told her she would introduce Ali to the > Bahá’í Faith. Dorothy said, “I married a man who was not a Bahá’í, > but he became one later.” > On Saturday Dorothy left for Dar-es-Salaam, stopping over in > > Mombasa to find and meet Ali. On her arrival, she happened into > a shop owned by Ali’s best friend. When Dorothy met Ali, she > liked him and found him very spiritual. He was intrigued by this > sudden visit and asked if he could become a Bahá’í and still re- > main a Muslim. But when Ali came to Africa, and attended Bahá’í > meetings, he showed no interest whatsoever, which baffled Irene. > They did not marry. Irene stayed on in Kenya as a pioneer, then > pioneered to Portugal in 1959. With her sister she moved to the > Orkney Islands—and so lived all her Bahá’í life as a teacher and a > pioneer. > The spring following Africa, Dorothy attended the All-America > Intercontinental Teaching Conference in Chicago, Illinois. There, > at the Medinah Temple, she spoke of the Guardian and of his > reference to ‘Alí Nakhjavání during her pilgrimage: > He told of ‘Alí Nakhjavání. He spoke of the fact that this > intrepid youth had gone into the jungles of Africa, as you > have no doubt been hearing, and, assisted by Philip > Hainsworth1 of Britain, they lived with the Teso people; they > ate the food of the Teso people; they slept on straw mats or > leaves, or whatever it is that you sleep on among the Teso > people. The rain falls on your head and salamanders drop in > your tea, if there is tea. And they stayed! And they did not > say, “Conditions do not warrant it because these people eat > herbs and things that would just kill us.” They stayed! Is > there an ‘Alí Nakhjavání, then, in America? At the present, > > Philip Hainsworth enrolled in the Faith in 1938. He has served as chair- > man of the National Bahá’í Youth Committee of the British Isles, a member > of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United Kingdom, and > as a member of the first National Spiritual Assembly of Central and East Af- > rica. > > no. I mean, up to the present. Is there a Philip Hainsworth? > Up to the present, no. > Now, the dark skinned people, he [Shoghi Effendi] said, > would have an upsurge that is both spiritual and social. The > spiritual upsurge will rapidly bring them great gifts because > this is an act of God and it was so intended. And all the > world’s prejudiced forces will not hold it back, one hair’s > breadth. The Bahá’ís will glorify it and understand it. The > social repercussions of race suppressions around the world > will increase at the same time, and frightened, the world’s > forces will see that the dark skinned peoples are really rising > to the top—a cream that has latent gifts only to be brought > out by Divine bounties. Where do the Bahá’ís stand in this? > Again and again he pointed out that the Bahá’ís must be in > the vanguard of finding them and giving them the base. For > the social repercussions will at times become dreadful, if we > do not, and we shall be judged by God. > I thought that I was rather a fanatic on the race question, > at least a strong liberal, but I sat judged by my Guardian, > and I knew it. My sights were lifted immeasurably and I saw > the vistas of these social repercussions, coming because of > our spiritual negligence through the years, and I saw the > Indian tribes dotted about this continent unredeemed, wait- > ing—waiting for an ‘Alí Nakhjavání. Are the African friends > going to have to come and awaken us for the dark skinned > races in our midst? God forbid, that in even this coming > year we fail in this. … > God grant that we may raise up our heroes who will dedi- > cate their lives to the Indians, to the great dark skinned races, > to the Eskimos, to the Negro peoples so brilliant, so prom- > ising in our national life. Which one will be our ‘Alí > Nakhjavání? > > Jim Stone was not present at that memorable talk, but he drove > his old truck sixty miles to hear Dorothy speak one night in Vir- > ginia. For him, that night was a step, unheralded and unplanned, > toward a life of service. > The last time I saw Hand of the Cause Dorothy Baker > was in the home of Joel Marangella in Falls Church, VA, I > believe in the summer of 1953. > Joel had asked Dorothy to come over to Falls Church from > Alexandria where she was staying, at the time, to speak on > the Faith to some of his friends. There were possibly 40 or > 50 in the room as it was a fairly large house with a large > living room. > After the evening formalities were over and we were all > milling around, chewing cookies, drinking punch and chat- > tering like magpies. … Dorothy really blossomed out and > showed her true qualities. > It started getting late, 10:00 P.M., 10:30 P.M. and still no > sign of anyone deciding to leave. In my mind loomed the > possibility that the evening would be a repetition of those > earlier meetings in which we went home at 2:00 A.M. or later. > As I had to be to work in the morning, and had to drive over > 60 miles of winding mountain road, it looked like it would > be morning before I got there. Finally about 11:00 P.M., I > asked Joel if he was going to take her back to Alexandria, > thinking if he was, I’d leave and go home. > He answered, “Oh! My car isn’t good enough to take her > home. … I’ll phone for a cab in a while and pay for it.” > Dorothy was then standing only a short distance away, > talking to some people. I turned to her and apologized for > interrupting and said, “Joel will not be able to take you back > > to Alexandria. Would you like to ride in my old 1934 Ford > Pickup so that I can?” > Her reply was short and to the point, “Come on Jim. > Let’s go.” > She thanked everybody for a lovely evening and we left. > As we left, we could feel the remarks of the crowd more > than hear them. … “The renowned, beloved Dorothy Baker > riding nine miles home in the middle of the night in an old > rattletrap of a PICKUP. How could one think of such a > thing?” … > However, as far as the two old friends were concerned > that ride that night was the highlight of the whole evening. > No ride in a gold plated Fleetwood Cadillac could have been > more spiritually rewarding. > Those two friends reminisced for half an hour and were > completely oblivious to the bumps in the road or any other > inconveniences involved. > That year, she had addressed the National Convention as > to the need for the development of teaching work among > the American Indians. Living in Martinsburg and being out > of touch with Chicago goings on, this fact was unknown to > me and she never referred to it. > However, the Guiding Hand of God was working and > that fall saw me preparing to move to Gallup, New Mexico > and fulfill her wishes. I never knew that I had done so until > I arrived in Gallup and it was brought to my attention. … > I have been here now some 29 years and have no inten- > tion of moving. > > Knowing that Dorothy had just been at the Kampala Confer- > ence, where Leroy Ioas had represented the Guardian, his daugh- > > ter, Farrukh Ioas, asked Dorothy how he was. After hearing the > glowing report on his performance at the Kampala Conference, > Farrukh asked if, now that he was a Hand of the Cause of God, > her father still used strong language, or if he had changed in that > respect. > Dorothy answered: > I believe we have to revamp our definition of saints. Your > father was the Guardian’s representative … and it was his > job to see that the Guardian’s gift—a photograph of the > portrait of the Báb—was shown at that conference. Leroy > met with those in charge and asked what was the appointed > time on the agenda. They told him not to worry, that it > would be taken care of. The next day nothing was men- > tioned so Leroy asked them again to make a decision as to > when it would be shown. They assured him that it would be > taken care of—but it wasn’t. Leroy called them together then > and told them that the Guardian’s gift would be presented > that day at 2 or 3 P.M. and that if it wasn’t he would tell the > Guardian they didn’t give a damn. > As Nancy Dobbins, who recounted the above story years later, > said, the most important aspect of it is the ability Dorothy had to > turn the issue around and say that the definition of a saint must > be changed—not the saint himself. > During that same spring of 1953 at the National Convention > in Wilmette, a young Bahá’í woman was combing her hair in the > ladies’ room during a break. She turned around and saw Dorothy > Baker standing next to her. Reelected to the National Assembly, > now serving as a Hand of the Cause, but most important, alive > with her joy in serving Bahá’u’lláh, Dorothy was admired by most > and adored by many, among them the young Bahá’í who turned > > to find this radiant figure so close by. Dorothy embraced the girl > and surprised her by commenting on her fine “Bahá’í reputation.” > The dark-haired girl answered that her real wish was to be more > like Dorothy, to be able to do the things Dorothy did for the > Faith “so effortlessly—so beautifully.” Then she asked, “Is there > something I can do to help me achieve this, to be more like you?” > Dorothy smiled and said yes, there was, then told her listener, > “What helped me develop was a certain detachment from the > world and all that pertains to it. At this stage in my life I fill my > mind and thoughts only with spiritual things. When things of > the world come into my mind I instantly think of the Greatest > Name or some divine attribute.” Years later, when Soo Fouts1 be- > came a member of the National Spiritual Assembly of the United > States herself, she still remembered and practiced Dorothy’s ad- > vice. > Dorothy’s thoughts, so disciplined to spiritual realities, were > totally reflected in her outward behavior and demeanor. At that > 1953 National Convention Belinda Elliot found her to have “a > radiance unlike any I had seen before, or since. She appeared to > be almost transparent to me and in the auditorium during ser- > vices she kept gazing upward. My eyes were always fastened on > her face. …” > Al Reinholz wasn’t a Bahá’í, but some friends from Milwaukee > thought he should see the House of Worship and think about > declaring. On a Sunday they drove to Wilmette to look around > and hear the Bahá’í talk that was scheduled. It happened to be > given by Dorothy. One thing stood out for Mr. Reinholz: the > prayer Dorothy said before the talk—the “Remover of Difficul- > > Soo Fouts, former member of the National Spiritual Assembly of the > United States, is serving as a pioneer in South Korea. > > ties.” He said, “I’ve never heard anyone since say it the way she > did. This was almost my only contact with her. It was a tremen- > dous thing. She knew just when to pause—I don’t know if it was > a natural thing with her or whether she practiced it, but it was > very effective.” > In a sense, she did practice it, as Mrs. Khadem witnessed. It was > the year after her husband, Dhikru’lláh Khadem, was appointed a > Hand of the Cause of God that she visited the Bakers. While he > traveled to South America in service to the Faith, as he would > later travel throughout the world, Javidukht Khadem recalled that > she went on a teaching trip of her own. > Dorothy Baker said that I must stay with her, so I went to > her home in Lima, Ohio. She said that she had made an > itinerary for me to go to all the firesides in the area as the > speaker. I was very shy. I said I knew very few of the Bahá’ís > in the area. She said it did not matter; I had to do it. > Every day someone picked me up and took me to the > fireside. Each day I became happier. Every night I came home > late—sometimes at 1 A.M. When I got home I found Dor- > othy Baker and her wonderful husband sitting in the break- > fast room (the pullman) and talking. She told me that it was > the only time she had to be with her husband, because all > day she was so busy. > At the end of 10 or 11 days she had to go to the National > Assembly meeting, and I wanted to go to visit my brother. > She said, “Let us go together in the car.” On the way she > told me, “I have so many things that I must do, and I do not > have time. Will you please read these letters I have received, > and take notes on how to answer them?” I made notes on > the back of each letter, as she told me what to write. > In the middle of this she said, “I have to do something > > that I forgot. I promised to pray for Elsie Austin,1 because > she wants to go to Africa, and the door is closed. Will you > help me?” and I said, “Sure.” I did not know what she wanted. > She said, “I want to say the ‘Remover of Difficulties’ 95 > times.” > She said it very slowly, and with each word her tears poured > down. She didn’t even notice me. I looked at her. I had never > experienced anything like this. The tears covered her face, > and dropped onto her clothes. I did not even count the num- > ber of prayers she said, but when she finished she pulled the > car over to the side of the road, and she passed out. > I opened the car door and called, “Dorothy—Dorothy. > Please!” After about 10 minutes she opened her eyes, and > was so happy! She said, “I am sorry, honey, that I bothered > you so much.” I asked her, “Is this the way you always pray?” > She answered, Is there any other way?” “Do you always say > your prayers like that? Do you say your Obligatory Prayer > every day like that?” I asked. She said, “Did you ever read > that you must wait to pray until you are feeling spiritual? > Every morning I say many prayers, so that I will be spiritual > enough to say my Obligatory Prayer.” > That was my trip with Dorothy Baker. > Dorothy felt the spouses of the Hands of the Cause must be > encouraged, as they carried a great burden and received little rec- > ognition. She worried about them and how they felt, whether > their potential was being brought out or lost in the shadows be- > hind their vibrantly shining mates. Mrs. Khadem became an ex- > > Elsie Austin pioneered to Morocco from 1953 to 1957 and was named a > Knight of Bahá’u’lláh. She then pioneered to Nigeria in the 60s and later to > the Bahamas. Elsie Austin now resides in the Washington D.C. area. > > 56. Hands of the Cause of God attending the Third > Intercontinental Teaching Conference, Stockholm, July 1953. > > ample of one who has been ardent and active, among other things, > as a fine speaker and a member of the Auxiliary Board in the > United States. > Dorothy’s own beloved Frank was an example of the sacrifices > made by the wives and husbands of the Hands. He financed her > travels, then bore the loneliness of her absence. She was his dearly > loved companion and was keenly missed during her months away > from home every year. Even when she was home she wasn’t able > to spend the time with him they both would have liked. Hand of > the Cause Paul Haney recognized the suffering Frank went > through. In Haifa, speaking of Frank Baker in May 1976, he said, > I don’t believe the extent to which he sacrificed to make it > possible for Dorothy to do all the things she did is generally > realized. He loved her very much, and he loved being with > > 57. Hands of the Cause of God at the All-America Intercontinen- > tal Teaching Conference, May 1953. Left to Right: Dorothy Baker, > Shu’á’u’lláh ‘Alá’í, ‘Alí-Akbar Furútan, Ṭaraẓu’lláh Samandarí, > Músá Banání, Valíyu’lláh Varqá. Twelve Hands of the Cause of > God attended the Conference. > > her. He sacrificed much of the time of their married life to > make it possible for her to be away, and render those out- > standing services to the Faith. I’ve always felt that in many > ways he was an unsung hero of the Faith. > During the Intercontinental Conference in Chicago, Hand of > the Cause of God Corinne True, ninety-one years old, invited all > the Hands who were present, as well as their spouses and several > other Bahá’ís, to dinner at her home. In her long life Mrs. True > > had gone on pilgrimage to Haifa nine times, had received more > than fifty tablets from ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, and had been instrumental > in the building of the Bahá’í House of Worship in Wilmette, > > 58. In the House of Worship, Wilmette, 1953, with Matthew Bullock. > > near Chicago. Frank and Dorothy Baker were among her guests > that evening in 1953. After dinner, as people were casually talk- > ing to one another, Mr. Furútan asked Frank about his wife, her > services, and their life together. Frank, who was usually a quiet > man, not one to express his feelings too publicly, looked into Mr. > Furútan’s warm, dark eyes and said, “First of all, she’s not just my > wife. She’s my queen. I would never consider myself her equal. As > far as her services go, my main recollections are of packing and > unpacking. I send her off on a teaching trip and when she returns > I help her unpack. Those moments when we’re home together are > the sweetest moments of my life.” > It wasn’t long after talking with Mr. Furútan that Frank again > saw Dorothy off on further foreign travels. The Third Interconti- > nental Conference in Stockholm, Sweden, had the bounty of > welcoming fourteen Hands of the Cause of God. Wednesday > morning, July 22, 1953, they were introduced to the almost four > hundred Bahá’ís in attendance. When Dorothy’s name was called > she said to the assembled Bahá’ís, “I begin to understand why > Europe has been considered the pulse of the world. If we regener- > ate its pulse, the world may be conquered.”1 > On Friday morning Ugo Giachery,2 the Hand of the Cause of > God representing the Guardian at the conference, read the para- > graph of Shoghi Effendi’s cable setting forth Europe’s part in the > > Quoted in “Report of the European Intercontinental Teaching Conference,” in > Bahá’í World, Vol. XII, p. 171. > Ugo Giachery was born and educated in Palermo, Sicily and received a > doctorate in chemistry from the Royal University of Palermo. He was appointed > by Shoghi Effendi as his personal representative for all the work in Italy associ- > ated with the erection of the superstructure of the Shrine of the Báb on Mt. > Carmel. Later he served in the same capacity for the construction of the Bahá’í > International Archives building on Mt. Carmel. In 1951 he was appointed as a > Hand of the Cause. > > great “Global Crusade,” the sweeping Ten Year Plan that stretched > from 1953 forward to 1963, and would—though no one knew it > at the time—also usher in the Universal House of Justice. Dr. > Giachery listed the territories in which there should be pioneers > by the end of “the Jubilee Year,” the first year of the Plan, com- > memorating the hundred-year anniversary of the birth of the rev- > elation of Bahá’u’lláh in the Síyáh-Chál prison. The Jubilee Year > began in October 1952 and was to end at the New Delhi > Intercontinental Conference in October 1953. With the New Delhi > Conference hardly more than two months away, the hope of set- > tling pioneers in the thirty virgin territories scattered from Alba- > nia to the Hebrides seemed remote.1 > Earlier in the Stockholm conference, in a touchingly humor- > ous talk about one goal—“little Spitzbergen”—Dorothy had moti- > vated many pioneers to volunteer for what must have seemed > obscure, out-of-the-way places. However, on this last day of the > conference, some goals remained unfilled. > None of the four National Spiritual Assemblies that had been > assigned goals had yet succeeded in fulfilling all of them. On Sun- > day afternoon Dorothy reported that, of the European goals as- > signed to the National Assembly of the United States, one virgin > territory was left to be filled: Andorra. The Bahá’í World records, > “As she spoke, a believer immediately offered to pioneer to that > country.”2 > In turn various individuals spoke about the unfilled goals of > the three other National Assemblies. One by one, the same thing > happened until, at the end of that session, pioneers had volun- > > Pioneers who arose during the first year of the Ten Year Crusade or who > arose in later years to go to territories previously unopened to the Bahá’í Faith > were known as Knights of Bahá’u’lláh. Their names were inscribed on a Roll > of Honor by the Guardian. > Bahá’í World, Vol. VIII, p. 177. > > teered for all the territories remaining to be opened to the Faith in > Europe. The hope Dorothy stated at the start of the conference, > that Europe’s pulse be regenerated, had been achieved. The Guard- > ian’s pioneer goals were won. > In her room at the Hotel Malmen in Stockholm, the night > before the final resounding call for pioneers on the conference > floor, Dorothy wrote a letter to Gladys and Ben Weeden, reveal- > ing her secret hopes, unknown to her fellow believers who lis- > tened and arose. > > July 25, ‘53 > Dearest Gladys and Ben, > In the atmosphere of this wonderful conference it comes > strongly to me to send you greetings and also a hint of what > is in my heart about pioneering. > The West Indies area is just “ready to pop” and in most of > it you can live like a lord on a very few dollars! When we can > wriggle out of a few last affairs in Lima it might be that > Frank and I can be permitted settlement somewhere there. > We retired folk can wriggle, after all. Our Guardian says “No > exceptions!” > Now my heart simply jumps up and down at the thought > that you two might be interested. We might even go to the > same island or at least be neighbors. This is all secret consul- > tation, of course, and purely personal, as every single one > must use his own judgment and come to his own decision. I > just thought that if you were thinking of something of the > sort it would be so wonderful to be together or at least semi- > together. And our Western Hemisphere Teaching Commit- > tee could pay expenses to the island, I just know, if you can > manage to even partially get on after arrival. The Leewards > and Windwards are very inexpensive. > How I wish we could get the settlement angle finished > > within the Holy Year, as our beloved in Haifa begs us to go > at least throughout the Western Hemisphere where we are > so free. In his message to Europe, in speaking of the 131 > new virgin goals of the Crusade he says, “no act worthier, no > honor greater.” > If it should come to your hearts, dears, you can obtain > blanks immediately from Ms. Katherine McLaughlin, 73 > College Rd., Princeton, New Jersey. > Now I will forget that I have written, and be sure that > only what is best for you will come to your hearts. > Dearest love, > Dorothy > > Even a year would be marvelous and unexpected things > come along to help go on. > Island Paradises of the World would be nice to read. I for- > get the publisher. > If you act, act fast, for your names should be past the > committee and before the NSA by the time of its meeting > Aug. 28. Pray about it and you will know whether it is for > you. > Frank met Dorothy on August 1st, just home from a teaching > trip to Finland after the conference. Before he carried her off to a > favorite fishing haven, a cable went off to the Guardian: “OFFER > SETTLE ISLAND CARIBBEAN AFTER INDIA. AWAIT DECISION REVERED > GUARDIAN. DEVOTED LOVE FRANK DOROTHY BAKER.” On August 7th > they received their answer: “HEARTILY APPROVE LOVING PRAYERS AC- > COMPANYING YOU SHOGHI.” A week later Dorothy wrote to her > daughter and family. > > 59. National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United > States, 1953. This is the photograph the Guardian placed in his > room at Bahjí; five members resigned to go pioneering. Front row, > left to right: Mamie L. Seto, Elsie Austin, Edna True, Dorothy > Baker, and Matthew Bullock. Back row, left to right: H. Borrah > Kavelin, W. Kenneth Christian, Paul Haney, and Horace Holley. > > August 14, 1953 > Dearest Louise, Hubert, and Dodey, > Just in case you did not get my note written to Birre from > fishing camp, this is a little Bon Voyage and goodbye. We > are still thrilled and happy about the sale and feel so relieved > that it1 does not have to be rented. > > Louise and Hubert’s house in Birre, near Lisbon, Portugal. > > Well, all the world is on the move, pioneering, and I do > want you to have our wonderful news while you are on Eu- > ropean soil, that Dad and I are setting sail in January for the > Windward Islands, British West Indies, to settle as resident > pioneers. I thought you would like to know, to tell dear Char- > lotte and Hilda and Xavier and all the other dear ones, and > ask their prayers for us. > There always seems to be some test of sincerity at the > point of going. Bill Sears had longed to reach the point of > winning a contract for $1,000 a week on the radio, and just > as he was about to sail for Africa he received it! He sailed. > Your homecoming is ours. We shall have time together > > 60. Budd Lake, September 1953, four generations (from left to > right): Dorothy Baker, her mother Luella (Aunty Lou), grand- > daughter Dorothy (Dodey), and daughter Louise. > > before January, however, and Dad must come home annu- > ally on business, so ours is not as “rugged.” We are just go- > ing to treasure every moment we do have and be grateful. > Aunty Lou is to go back with us next year, when we have > a more definite set-up in Grenada, in fact she is counting on > it. This year we feel it might be taking a chance for her to try > it. So the house will go on as usual here this year, as a Center > and as a home for Aunty Lou, who will be a hostess, busi- > ness manager, and inspiration, at one and the same time. > Thus you can come home just the same, and moreover, both > Junior families are to use the farm apartment to their hearts’ > content. In fact we have a surprise for you in the shape of a > really good little guest house out back now, so that both Jun- > ior families can come at once and enjoy each other and the > farm. > We want to wait until we have lived in the islands a while > before we make any move toward a change here. We’ll know > better next summer the wisest thing to do. … > Well, we’ll tell you more about the island of Grenada in > the Windwards when we see you. It brings me still closer to > the Latins and puts us under NSA of South America. I think > Dad is going to love it; he is genial by nature and a better > mixer, and in the first stages at least I am certain he will > accomplish more, just by his presence and general personal- > ity. But we do not wish to make “in-a-hurry-Bahá’ís”; first > we make friends, and go slowly. Dad would like to add a > word to you all. > Love, > Mommie > Hi folks— > It seems too good to be true that we will soon all be to- > > gether. Very much pleased about the house. Hope Hubert > got his money out of the export business too. Muz says the > best way to get to Budd Lake is by bus—get directions from > Addie.1 > love from Dad > In 1953 five members of the National Spiritual Assembly of > the United States resigned to go pioneering. The first three were > Matthew Bullock, Dorothy Baker, and Elsie Austin, the woman > Dorothy had prayed for a few months before as she and Mrs. > Khadem drove to Chicago. > That NSA included two Hands of the Cause of God as well as > one future Hand of the Cause, three future Knights of Bahá’u’- > lláh, one future member of the Universal House of Justice, and > one future Continental Counselor. Altogether, five members re- > signed to become pioneers: the three Knights of Bahá’u’lláh— > Elsie Austin, who planned to go to Morocco; Matthew Bullock, > to the Dutch West Indies; and Kenneth Christian, to Southern > Rhodesia—and two others: Mamie Seto, who intended to go to > Hong Kong, and Dorothy Baker, who planned to go to Grenada > in the Windward Islands. The Guardian kept a photograph of > that 1953 National Spiritual Assembly in his own room at Bahjí. > > A reference to Adelaide Beecher, wife of David Beecher, Dorothy’s brother. > David and Addie married and settled into the Beecher family lodge on Budd > Lake, where they lived for the rest of their lives. > > Chapter 21 > Conference & travel teaching in India, 1953 > Before their much anticipated pioneering move to the Caribbean, > Dorothy prepared for her trip to the fourth and final Interconti- > nental Conference, in India. She wrote to Lenore Bernstein, one > of the Lima friends, who now continued her Bahá’í activity in > Florida, “How I wish you could go along. Lennie, this is going to > be the most wonderful trip of all.” On the first lap of her journey > to the Far East, Dorothy wrote home. Her daughter and family > had recently moved back to the U.S. from Portugal. As Dorothy > had said before, her greatest sacrifice was leaving her family. > > September 29, 1953 > Dearest Folks, > It seems impossible that I am on a train again, lurching > along to NY and off to India, on the other side of the world. > I keep holding on to the little details of back home, like > wondering whether there is an iron at the farm; Louisie may > have to carry hers back and forth, the iron, I mean. Or > whether Mother and Mrs. Scohy1 know there is cabbage and > lettuce in the downstairs ice box to be used up. And whether > > One of the elderly women Dorothy arranged to have stay in her home, > primarily to cook dinners when she was away. > > possibly Hubert and Louise moved on out tonight so Dodey > wouldn’t have to weep because of leaving the meeting again! > Etc. Etc. Can’t seem to really leave Lima, or sleep. And then, > too, I’m kind of worried about dear Mrs. Scohy who is so > frail. We have never had company before, except overnight > guests, and dinner guests, and you fellows will have to just > say “You do this and we’ll do that” and make her live up to > it. I find that if you can get her to lie down each day it’s all > right. Forbid desserts and just bring up fruit or ice cream; > that helps. We don’t need cooked desserts. She has a bad > heart, and could slip out very easily; that’s a fact. > Well, that sounds like Gloomy Gus, doesn’t it? But it’s > not that; it’s just Lima hanging on to my coat tails. I pre- > sume you have thought of all those things and more, by the > time this will have arrived. And my mind will turn eastward. > And I’ll write Dad a special letter for himself, next, when > he gets back from fishing. First I’ll see BOAC.1 > For our dear young people a last hug and embrace for a > while. It seems so natural to have them around now that > they are here, and it seems so just right, too, about Detroit. > They have new worlds to conquer and they will do it with > that wonderful ease that always seemed to me so character- > istic of them in Birre. There will be tests and times of strain > of course, life is like that; but they will be OK always. They > both stand high in a large percentage of life’s “aptitude tests,” > and also they are happy. So I am thankful and happy riding > along, thinking about everything. > Best to everyone and deepest love to all my dear family. > Fondly, > Mommie > Excuse jiggle; I hope you can read this. > > British Overseas Airways Corporation. > > PS. Arrived safely and checked in at Lincoln. Can still see > my dear ones all waving at the depot in Lima. God bless > them, everyone. > The next morning, Dorothy wrote on the outside of the enve- > lope, “Little anxieties all gone this A.M. I guess I’ve left Lima now! > Love to you all.” > A few days later the Bahá’ís in and around London gathered to > meet her. Among them was Ian Semple, who would later serve as > a member of the National Spiritual Assembly of the British Isles, > then, beginning in 1961, as a member of the International Bahá’í > Council and, in 1963 as one of the First members of the Univer- > sal House of Justice. He recalled: > It was on the afternoon of Saturday, 3rd October 1953, when > the friends had gathered in the London Bahá’í Centre at 103 > Earls Court Road, to meet Dorothy Baker who was on her > way to New Delhi. It was a smallish room with the door at > the back. I was sitting in, I think, the second row waiting as > the friends gathered before Dorothy should arrive. Suddenly > I had the most extraordinary sensation, as if pure joy were > pouring over me and I were “floating” in an ocean of love. I > looked round to see what on earth could be the cause of this > feeling, and there was Dorothy Baker standing in the door- > way, having just arrived. I am not given to having such expe- > riences, and I can only say that I had not the slightest doubt > that Dorothy’s presence was the source of it. > After a brief stay in England Dorothy traveled on, again re- > cording her feelings and impressions in a letter home. > Dearest Folks, > No place on “Jet” but never mind; they put me on an > > 61. New Delhi, October 1953: Bahá’ís who attended > all four Intercontinental Teaching Conferences. > Dorothy Baker is sixth from the left. > > Australian liner and got me off. I’ll miss the Nehru affair > but will be in plenty of time for the Conference. I don’t know > what went wrong at BOAC office in Chicago. There were a > number of complications. But all’s well that ends well, and I > took off from London this A.M. > We had a lovely meeting yesterday in London and after > that Marion and David Hofman1 whisked me out to the > > Founders of George Ronald Publishers, Marion and David Hofman later > moved to Haifa, Israel, where, from 1963, Mr. Hofman served as a member of > the Universal House of Justice. Since his retirement in 1988 he has traveled > and spoken all over the world. Mrs. Hofman, who was a member of the first > Auxiliary Board for Europe, continued her work as publisher, writer, and edi- > tor. She died in 1995 and is sorely missed by all who had the privilege of > working with her. > > 15th Century village of Wheatley for the night, a stone’s > throw from old Oxford. It was perfect; I wouldn’t have missed > that old bit of England for anything. And they have two > beautiful children, 6 and 4, who say little Bahá’í prayers in > the sweetest upper-class British you ever heard, and can’t > wait each day for the “family worship period” which David > and Marion have inaugurated. After little one-line-or-so > prayers by grown-ups and children alike, a short paragraph > is read and they tell one story only and that’s that. It’s won- > derful and I can’t wait to tell Bill and Pen. Dodey is prob- > ably a little young yet. Frank could do it. And Pen and Bill > are so anxious for those things. Also, the perfect English of > these children springs from the fact that their publisher > Daddy staves off just everything else from them, and feels > that background becomes at last the individual. I did learn > and realize a lot from them, and those children are so simple > and natural too, that I was impressed. They have an acre or > so of land, and the children pick up all the fruit in season > and receive a penny from each basket sent to market. The > family is a kind of “cooperative.” > Well, India next, and only cards from there, maybe, to > Lima and Lauderdale. > Love to old and young, > Mommie > The complications Dorothy mentioned in trying to leave En- > gland included almost not receiving permission to continue her > travels. When she and the Hofmans dropped her big bag at the > air terminal that evening, airline personnel told them the plane > she was scheduled to take the next morning was making a stop in > an Arab country where Dorothy could not be admitted because > her passport had been stamped in Israel. But by the time they > > reached the Hofmans’ home in Wheatley, a BOAC official was > on the telephone assuring Dorothy she would be allowed to fly. > Then, as Marion Hofman later wrote to Frank Baker, Dorothy > could relax. > We put the children to bed, and then had scrambled eggs by > the fire, and such a lovely visit. After supper we begged Dor- > othy to pray for us, for as perhaps you know, business affairs > had prevented us from active service for almost two years. > She readily agreed, got herself ready, and said, “Now don’t > interrupt me, for I’m going to say as many prayers as I like.” > And she did, dearest friend and heavenly spirit, intercede > for us with prayer after prayer. And so to bed at midnight or > later, but not until I had sat on her bed in a short few mo- > ments during which I sought and she gave advice on some- > thing known only to the two of us. Our hearts met and were > opened to each other, and her wisdom altered my life. > The next morning David Hofman took her to the airport as he > recalled: > … we rose very early in the morning and I drove her to > London airport to catch the plane to New Delhi. There had > been quite a business getting her on it, but all was set. How- > ever, half an hour from home, with nice time, we ran out of > gas halfway up a hill … before 6 A.M. There was a gas sta- > tion there, but we could rouse no one. I admired Dorothy > so much; no fuss or reproaches; she just stood upright, and > I was sure was calling upon Bahá’u’lláh to help her fulfil the > Guardian’s command. I remembered a hotel with gas sta- > tion at the bottom of the hill, and so turned the car round > and coasted right into the yard. The night porter was mak- > > ing some tea and gladly gave us the gas, and off we went, > but with no time to spare. We made it, just, and as Dorothy > turned from the official to say goodbye I gave her a big hug > and a kiss, said “God bless you” and off she went. > Dorothy’s grandson Frank called her Lou. Luella Beecher, > Dorothy’s mother, was always known as Aunty Lou, so Lou seemed > a good name for Dorothy. At the stop in Rome en route from > England to India, Dorothy mailed a picture postcard of an air- > plane to her youngest granddaughter. On the back she wrote, > Dear Dodey, > This picture is a ‘plane and Lou is taking a ride on this plane > today. When you get big, you can fly on a plane too! I send > you a kiss from Lou. > At the airport in Delhi about a hundred Bahá’ís greeted her, > and she arrived in time to meet with Jawaharlal Nehru, Prime > Minister of India. Hand of the Cause of God Mr. Furútan re- > called the meeting. > When she went to meet Nehru in New Delhi (all the Hands > were there) and he gave the very beautiful speech of wel- > come, she turned to me and with her eyes invited me to > answer Nehru, which I did. It was her initiative to invite me; > her silent invitation. > She loved everybody. She showed me many kindnesses. > At all the conferences the Hands gave public talks, or talks > to the Bahá’ís. When I was the speaker she always encour- > aged me afterwards, praising my speaking. Once she said, > “Come sit next to me, my brilliant speaker.” > > 62. Speakers at the New Delhi Town Hall, October 1953. > Left to right: Mildred Mottahedeh, Abu’l-Qásim Faizí, > Dorothy Baker, H. Collis Featherstone, and John Robarts. > > During the New Delhi Intercontinental Conference Hazel Mori > was very aware of Dorothy’s presence. During one of the sessions > at which Dorothy spoke, Mrs. Mori watched her from the audience. > I sat off to the right as we faced the speakers’ stand in that > makeshift auditorium with its folding chairs, whirring fans, > dampened India prints draped to cool the large circus-sized > tent that held us. She was ever in my range of vision where > she sat almost motionless, her gaze directed to her left, slightly > past the speakers, with no flicker of emotion to show she > was listening. I wondered at the time if she was trying to > avoid showing any evidence of pain, since her fingers were > > folded under, as though clenched, so much of the time, or, > because her face was so serene, if she were just communing > with the Abhá Kingdom. But the moment she rose to ad- > dress us she showed complete awareness of all that had been > said during the preceding consultation, and her poise, her > encompassing love, her vivid speech, radiated vitality to us. > A. Bashir Elahi, who worked at the Iranian Embassy in New > Delhi, wrote, > During the Conference she was the shining figure because > of her lectures. … The conference was scheduled from Oc- > tober 7 to October 13, 1953 and I remember she was talk- > ing nearly every day, explaining the goals of the Conference > and the directives of the Guardian. Her speeches were so > mesmerizing that everybody would try so hard not to miss > them. Moreover, she had the responsibility to contact the > Indian authorities and acquaint them with the principles of > the Cause and aims of the Conference. > In the meantime, some public gatherings were also ar- > ranged at various places for non-Bahá’ís and she lectured elo- > quently and convincingly. Her speeches in public meetings > were received so warmly, that they were reported by most of > the newspapers in town. … > As this was the last of the Intercontinental Conferences, Bahá’ís > attended from all over the world. Emma Rice was among them. > She later wrote: > The next time I was with Dorothy was in New Delhi, India > at the fourth and last of the four Intercontinental Teaching > Conferences, October, 1953. She was exhausted from the > > heat and humidity and would often ride on the back of a > donkey cart to the conference tent on the hay stacked in the > back of the cart looking just like a young nature girl > with flowers ‘round her neck and in her hair. She was totally > unconscious of her station—Hand of the Cause of God— > Chairman of the NSA of the USA—newly declared pio- > neer to Grenada. After the Conference was over she asked > me to accompany her to a girls school nearby where she was > to give a talk. She was just getting over pneumonia and could > not speak a word. I wondered what was going to happen—I > just could not persuade her to rest some more. But nothing > doing, on she went through the long dusty desert drive. She > greeted the girls with cheers and smiles, stood up on the > platform and gave a magnificent talk in a firm, positive man- > ner, descended the stage, joined the teenagers, autographed > something for each one … that was Dorothy—nothing > could stop her. > Perhaps it was the same school where Shirin Boman’s eleven- > year-old daughter Ruhiyyih was a student. If so, the girls were > unaware of anything in Dorothy’s manner that would suggest > exhaustion. Ruhiyyih Boman Sanchez said, > I remember that she gave a beautiful speech at the little > school. It was inspiring; we were spellbound. I still remem- > ber her face. The way she spoke reminded me of Rúḥíyyih > Khánum. After the inspiring speech she took a handful of > what looked like coins and to our amazement, she just threw > them to us. We rushed to get the coins, and found they were > chocolates covered with silver foil.”1 > > From an interview by Gayle Woolson. > > Frank waited at home, patient in anticipation of the day, quite > soon, when his wife would return and together they would travel > to the West Indies and away from her time-consuming responsi- > bilities of recent years. Then he received a telegram: > > NEW DELHI > > GUARDIAN CABLED URGING HORACE, MASON AND ME REMAIN > INDIA ADDITIONAL MONTH. APPROXIMATE ARRIVAL HOME LATE > NOVEMBER. ADDRESS BOX 19 DELHI LOVE > DOROTHY > > By the end of November, more than a dozen Indian towns > received Dorothy, who was often accompanied by one or more > Indian Bahá’ís. Mrs. Shirin Boman, a close friend, traveled with > Dorothy for eighteen days. Mrs. Boman was elected to the Na- > tional Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of India the following > year and became a member of the Continental Board of Counse- > lors for South Central Asia. Her daughter Perin, the future Dr. > Perin Olyai, is a member of the Continental Board of Counselors > for Asia, and, at Dorothy’s request, named her own daughter > Dorothy. > Mr. Isfandiar Bakhtiari sometimes accompanied Dorothy. He > served for years on the National Spiritual Assembly of India and > later the National Spiritual Assembly of Pakistan, as well as an > Auxiliary Board Member for that region. He had also helped > Martha Root1 on some of her travels in the area. Other compan- > > Journalist, indefatigable world-traveler and lecturer, teacher of the Bahá’í > Faith to royalty, the Hand of the Cause of God Martha Root spent fifteen > months in India during her last extended teaching trip before her death in > 1939. It is interesting to note that she finished her book Ṭáhirih the Pure, Írán’s > Greatest Woman (Karachi: Bahá’í Publishing Trust of Pakistan, 1938) in Karachi, > > ions in Dorothy’s Indian travels were Mrs. Monira Sohaili, who > later pioneered in New Caledonia for seven years and in Australia > for thirteen; Bahiya Sohaili, a pioneer to Laos, Bangkok, and Zim- > babwe; and Sheriyar Nooreyazdan, who later taught at the New > Era School in Panchgani. In each town Dorothy spoke one or > two, even five or six times, in the few days she was there.* > Monira Sohaili wanted to join Dorothy on her travels, but feared > she would not be able to. Her wedding had taken place during > the New Delhi Conference, and she assumed it would be best to > stay with her new husband. When Monira explained this, Dor- > othy said, “Don’t worry, whatever happens is the Will of God. > You will accompany me if you are meant to.” This made Monira > think again about going. She talked it over with her family, who > had no objections, and a few days later, when Dorothy passed > through Bombay, Monira joined her. Dorothy said, “Now your > husband has joined the club my husband belongs to, whose wives > go on teaching trips and are gone most of the time.” Monira, > Dorothy, and two other youth, Bahiya Sohaili and Sheriyar > Nooreyazdan, set out from Bombay with Dorothy. Monira later > recorded some of the events of the trip. > The first stop, I think, was Surat, where the Vakil family > lived. … Their father, a very devoted and dedicated Bahá’í, > had passed away. His wife and two daughters took us to the > guest-house. As Dorothy was about to enter the room she > stopped and from her face it seemed she was aware of some- > thing, and then she turned to us and said, “Dear Martha > > * > Dorothy’s last teaching stop. For more information on Martha Root, see also > M. R. Garis, Martha Root: Lioness at the Threshold (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Pub- > lishing Trust, 1983). > > 63. Dorothy Baker with friends in Kanpur, December 5, 1953 > > 64. Dorothy Baker addressing Sanskrit College, > University of Banaras, December 10, 1953. > > Root has been in this room.” We were very surprised. The > Vakil sisters told us that dear Martha Root had spent some > days in that very room facing the water and written portions > of her book Ṭáhirih the Pure. Dorothy was very quiet and > had such a thoughtful look, as though she could see dear > Martha there in that room. > We then went to a place called Baroda. Most of the time > we travelled by train. On one of these train rides a man > > approached us and started asking many questions. Dorothy > did not answer him and we were surprised why she did not > wish to talk with him about the Faith. She then asked him > to look up at her and tell her if he sincerely was seeking or > only wanted to argue about God. With this the man looked > down, and walked away, and left us in peace. We wondered > how she knew he was not a seeker and only wanted an argu- > ment. She said she could see in his eyes he was not sincere. > Now our trip to Baroda was really a memorable one. We > arrived there tired from the trip, and wondering what to do > as the few Bahá’ís there were not seen and were not at the > Bahá’í Center. Dorothy turned to us and said, “Here we will > have a public meeting.” We three were very surprised as to > how we would inform the public and get it all together in > one day. We decided the only way was to print handbills > announcing the meeting at the Bahá’í Center and hand them > out in the street to people, so each of us took different sec- > tions and started distributing a few thousand of these hand- > bills. People just took it and some asked us to give them, but > of course as with all public meetings we did not expect more > than a couple of people would come. > When it was time for the public meeting we were late, as > we were still handing out the invitations, and when we came > to the Center what a surprise awaited us. There were so many > people that the stairs were also filled and we were not able to > go to the room to hear dear Dorothy, who was already speak- > ing to them. After one-and-a-half hours of speaking she told > them that those who wanted to leave could, and should not > feel bad as she would turn her back so they could leave. Well, > not one left and the meeting continued till late at night. > They were just enraptured and the whole center was packed. > Some of the Bahá’ís who heard also came and we were able > > to meet them, and as a result they became deepened and > active. > Well, I can even now see her dear face, so happy, and she > told us, “I am going to write to the beloved Guardian and > tell him what you three youths did today in this place.” > Many times she expressed the wish to be with Frank Baker > and told us that she was counting the days when she could > join her husband to go pioneering, but as the Guardian had > asked her to continue a little longer her teaching trip she > was staying longer. She taught us by her example. …. Her > obedience to the Guardian was “exact and complete.” > Though her heart longed to join Frank, she stayed on. … > Her great devotion to the Guardian was evident; so many > times a day she said his name. … During dinner time [at > a hotel] we were served with the most delicious custard pud- > ding. Dorothy expressed how delicious it was, but would > not take a second helping. We could see she was thoughtful. > Then she exclaimed, “I wish the Beloved Guardian were here > to enjoy it.” This was typical of the way dear Dorothy > felt … anything she saw that was beautiful, she would ex- > claim in the same way and then would say, “May my life be > a sacrifice for the Beloved Guardian.” > Many times she would repeat to us and tell us how to > teach these people of the Hindu background. Here I would > like to explain that until that time, teaching in India was > very slow and the Bahá’ís were mainly Persians from Iran > and not Hindus (native Indians). She would tell us that the > best way to teach them was to attain the station of a lover to > his beloved, only then would we get results. She told us that > the Hindus had a great heritage as they were taught religion > and were spiritually inclined through the religious beliefs of > prayer and meditation and it would not be difficult to bring > > many of the Hindu people into the Faith. How many times > she would say, “I wish I could give my life for these people > of India so that they can come into the Faith.” > Finally we said our goodbyes with many tears. Dorothy > called the three of us to her and held our hands and prayed > for us to go pioneering and told us that if she did not meet > us here, if we would pioneer and teach the Faith, we would > meet with her in the Abhá Kingdom. > Another request came from Haifa asking Dorothy to travel in > India for one more month. While she was away, Frank had been > preparing to leave for their pioneer post in Grenada, West Indies. > To establish credit in their new post, Frank asked for and received, > on October 10, 1953, a letter of recommendation from the vice- > president of the Metropolitan Bank of Lima, Ohio. It stated, > “The Baker family enjoys an excellent reputation in this commu- > nity and their dealings with us have always been most satisfactory. > Any courtesies extended them will be appreciated.” Frank wrote > letters to his old friend from Lima, Ed Miessler, at Ed’s pioneer > post in South America, expressing his hopes and feelings: > > November 9, 1953 > … Dorothy, Aunty Lou and I are going to go down to > Grenada about January 15th as pioneers. … If we stay in > Grenada most of the time we may eventually sell our home > here and just use the apartment at the farm when we come > back each year. We will probably spend eight or nine months > of the year in Grenada and probably will buy a home there. > Keeping up three places runs pretty steep and if the group > here can find a suitable place to meet I will probably sell our > home here in Lima. > > Since I sold the business Bill has gone back to college. … > He is taking a course in food engineering and was first in his > class last year, only one B. All other grades were As. … > Dorothy is in India and will be home about Dec. 14th or > 15th. She is speaking at the schools and colleges there and at > a lot of public meetings beside. This will probably be our > last long separation—hope so at any rate as I miss her more > this time than on any of her other trips. … > > Nov. 20 > My dear Ed and Muriel, > Received your nice letter this morning. Have not been > sleeping more than eight or nine hours a night since I made > you that loan—now I can get back to normal. … > > 65. Dorothy Baker at Lady Irwin College for Girls, New Delhi, 1953. > > I got quite a shock yesterday. We had made our plans to > leave Miami for Grenada Jan. 15th. Got a letter from Dor- > othy yesterday saying that the Guardian had asked her to > stay in India another month so she will not get home till > about Jan. 14th. Guess we will get away early in February > now unless the Guardian asks her to do something else be- > tween now and then. I have not sent her any extra cash and > since she expected to come home about Nov. 2nd when she > left I’m wondering what she is using for money. She has re- > ally been doing quite a job over there, good audiences and > good results, stays about two days in each place. She spoke > before several Rotary Clubs and other organizations as well > as regular Bahá’í and public meetings. Thank goodness this > is one trip where she will get in a little sightseeing whether > she wants it or not. She has visited Taj Mahal and some of > the ancient caves. They just cannot imagine a person not > wanting to see the sights so arrange little visits for her on > their own. > Hubert has made a connection with General Motors in > the Insurance end. … He would like eventually to get into > the export end but his immediate interest is to get into the > company and stay in this country till he gets his citizenship. > … > Sunday he started in the school that G.M. conducts in > Flint. … Until he finishes the school about Dec. 19th > Louise and Dorothy (Dodie) will stay with us here. … > I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a home in Grenada some > of these days, most likely not this year however but I feel we > will get a lot further along there if we look like permanent > fixtures than we would if people got the idea we were only > there as temporary residents. > Everyone is well here—we are all around the Pullman > > table reading and writing letters but I guess in about a minute > we will just be reading. > Love and best wishes to the whole family from > The Frank Bakers > Aunty Lou and Louise send their love. > F.A.B. > Dorothy spoke at three colleges in Agra. Years after her trip to > India, Eunice Braun traveled there to teach. Mrs. Braun said in an > interview: > An interesting thing happened in Jaipur, at the University > of Rajastan. An Indian man, I think the head of the English > Department, had been invited. He translated my talk that > night into Hindi. He told me about himself. He had been a > young student at the University of Agra when Dorothy had > come. He had a program from that meeting. He carried it > with him, strangely enough. It had a picture of Dorothy > Baker in it. He had not become a Bahá’í , but he had been so > deeply touched, he had never been able to forget her, and he > still carried that program, nearly twenty years later. He had > made a pact with himself that he would never forget what > she had said, and sealed that pact by pricking his finger and > marking the program with his blood. He said it was a sec- > ond chance for him. The fact that I had known Dorothy > seemed to mean a great deal to him. > Among the towns Dorothy visited in November was Gwalior, > > where her schedule, as usual, was packed. The Bahá’í News Letter > of India records the activities of her two days there. > Mrs. Dorothy Baker arrived in Gwalior on the 20th Novem- > ber 1953. She was received at the station by a batch of stu- > dents who garlanded her with flower garlands. > The same day at 1:30 P.M. she delivered a lecture in the > Victoria College on “Real Internationalism.” From there she > went to Kamalraja Girls College and addressed the faculty > and the students at 3 P.M. on the Bahá’í Faith. At 6 P.M. Mrs. > Dorothy Baker delivered a public lecture in the Hall of the > Chamber of Commerce which is in the heart of the city. > Rani Rajwade, a very prominent lady, was in the Chair. She > has read extensively of our Faith, so she opened the meeting > with a very impressive speech on the Bahá’í Faith including > short history and a reading from the Guardian’s message to > the first All India Woman’s Conference in India. The audi- > ence consisted of the cream of the city and dear Mrs. Dor- > othy Baker carried them to the Seven Valleys of Bahá’u’lláh > during her talk. All heard her spiritual discourse with wrapt > attention and all seemed to be deeply impressed. > Next morning Mrs. Dorothy Baker met the representa- > tives of the Press at a Conference and spoke to them on the > history of the Faith. At 11 A.M. Dorothy Baker met on invi- > tation Rani Rajwade and her daughter-in-law at their resi- > dence. Rani Rajwade has promised to study more about the > Faith. > At 12 noon an interview with Her Highness the Maha- > rani Scindia was arranged in her Palace. During the inter- > view Mrs. Dorothy Baker had free discussion with her on > the Bahá’í Faith for about an hour. Photos and films were > > taken and three books were presented to her by Mrs. Shirin > Boman on behalf of the Spiritual Assembly of Gwalior. > At 3:30 P.M. Mrs. Dorothy Baker gave a talk on the Faith > at the Agriculture College. Questions were answered and all > were greatly impressed. > At 4:30 P.M. some distinguished ladies were invited to tea > at the Bahá’í Centre to meet Mrs. Dorothy Baker. After the > party she spoke to the local Bahá’ís in her own inspiring way > about our beloved Faith. “No words can express the heav- > enly atmosphere in which we found ourselves.” The friends > joyfully discussed the occasion and shared their feelings of > joy in the Nineteen-Day Feast. At 6 P.M. she dined with the > Rotarians and addressed them for more than 20 minutes. > That day Rotarians had come from different parts of India > [so] dear Dorothy Baker could give the message to all. At 11 > P.M. she left Gwalior. > > Half a dozen cities later, on December 5th, Dorothy was in > Kanpur. The Local Spiritual Assembly of that city wrote to the > Guardian on January 14, shortly after her visit, > … We particularly remember her brief memorable 2-day > visit to Kanpur during which she spoke at no less than 20 places > without any rest or even the time to gather her breath. > She left her spiritual imprints in Kanpur not only on the > Bahá’ís but also on the pressmen and the people of Kanpur > at large. The send-off meeting in the train’s compartment > was a never-to-be-forgotten meeting of prayers and tears, > after which she gave her parting message to the people of > Kanpur which was published, along with her group photo- > graph in no less than a dozen English and Hindi newspapers > of Kanpur. … > > In a letter written to David and Marion Hofman in early De- > cember, Dorothy described her travel plans. She closed the letter > saying, “For the trip to London there will be no complication. If > God wills, I’ll be on Jet plane Jan. 7. Much love, Dorothy.” At the > same time she wrote home: > Dearest Family, > When you write, please tuck in a copy of the pamphlet > “Religion Returns.” > What do you think of me in a sari?? These were given to > me. The entire thing is one piece, you know, wrapped around > > 66. “What do you think of me in a Sari?” > > by a special method which I’ll show you. And there I am in > the navy dress which is my regular college attire. Some say > to wear a sari for colleges and “be one of them.” I might try > it around Benares, the 100% Hindu center of all Asia, and > incidentally the world center of Theosophy. It is the ancient > “Sacred City.” > The enclosed is my proposed new routing, which takes > the east side as previously planned and leaves time open af- > terward for Hindu centers like Banaras and the Indore re- > gion in central India where the second holiest city is. I assure > you we are now attempting the impossible. Don’t be sur- > prised if you hear that I have bathed in the Ganges, sacred > river of all Hindus, and come forth singing verses from the > Vedas. > > Later > Another wonderful batch of mail here at Delhi, and how > I did eat it up! The meeting with Longs must have been so > wonderful, and never mind if pioneers could not further > arise; Ohio still needs lots of help! How lovely for Lima to > have been blessed with such a meeting. And I’ll bet Frank’s > breakfast was par excellent! [sic] > For Frank—there are no gold coins left in India. They are > forbidden in banks, and I have asked the best antique col- > lectors and they say you just have to stumble on one but > they have really been snapped up. They will let me know if > any do turn up, but they shake their heads doubtfully. > Now the Guardian’s cable regarding remaining another > month brings me to Jan. 6 when I fly as follows: > Jan. 6 Jet to London, arriving Jan. 7. Jan. 8 leave > London 8:00 P.M., arriving New York (Idlewild) at 8:15 > A.M. Jan. 9. > > They have it worked out at BOAC here in Delhi for > me to write them from anywhere I happen to be, and > cancel the second half of that trip (London to NY), > and instead, fly London to Trinidad, via Jamaica. I > would be in Jamaica the 9th instead of New York, that’s > all, and transfer after visiting a day or two with the > friends there, to Trinidad where I would remain and > meet your plane on the 15th. I could meet that fine > young chap there in Jamaica, who might be a great > help to us in teaching later. You would save at least the > price of my ticket from Miami as well as a trip home > from New York. I can get clear to Trinidad for about > the London–NY trip, and it does seem sensible. Just > turn back my round trip to Edna and get it back, if > you decide to do this. Write me when you decide. As > for you, Mother darling, you are as safe as rain with > Frank on that big liner, and I’ll be at the airport at the > other end. Take one of my capsules at the Miami Air- > port. > Thanks, Louise dear, for sending the trunk. I’m so > grateful. It will be no time before I see you in the Spring, > dearest, if the family decides to go and meet me. Stick > in a couple of my summer dresses if trunk has room > and if I go direct. > Personally, I am against changing our timing. You > might pick me up in NY though, and drive on south. > Let me know. > Love, > Dorothy > Mommie > > In Benares, having delivered ten talks in the previous five days > > in Benares and Patna, and preparing to continue her schedule > with a visit to the village of Rampur the next day, Dorothy wrote > to her daughter and son-in-law: > > Dec. 12, 1953 > Dearest Louisie and Hubschi, > News on your front sounds so good, both as to housing > and dear friendships, and as to Hubschi’s work which is in > the first stages of very fine things. I can just see old Hubschi > getting his teeth into that study job! Just born for it. > Funny thing; I have not heard a word about Bill’s studies > this year, and last year I felt so close to it all, going up to > NSA meetings as I did and stopping off to see them. Tell > Pen my India address and see if she will send me a good old- > fashioned bulletin of the Bill Baker Bunch. I feel kind of > homesick about them because of so suddenly being cut off > after being so close to it all. > And when I think of my two young families I have a little > sinking feeling anyhow, missing the holidays and big reunion, > but I did have it all at Budd Lake and did see you all to- > gether, and that’s a lot. I wish there were a way for you to > keep an arm around Dwight and Ann1 spiritually; maybe > you will find you can as time goes on. They need Bahá’í > association very much, and Marge too. You seem to me, > Louisie, to be the one who can especially help them along; > just pray about it and see. > Now we have to begin planning a summer reunion, when > the family can get together somewhere again, and take ac- > count of stock. With the super-duper little guest house, that > should be easy. You two younger families can manage nicely > > Children of Conrad Baker, Dorothy’s stepson who died in 1948. > > 67. Dorothy Baker with the Maharani of Scindia at the Palace, > Gwalior, November 1953. Shirin Boman is on the Maharani’s left. > > and we’ll have dinner for all at night. Tell dear Mrs. Scohy > I’ve been thinking already about next summer when she, I > hope, will be back with us, and of what extra help I am > going to have to do all clearing up, dish-washing, and er- > rand-running, so that she can be just the preparer of the > dinner. A school girl can come in and clear up and we can > spend every minute with each other and Mrs. Scohy. Either > that, or the three of us (you, Pen, and I) are going to take > over the after-dinner business and lift her bodily out of the > kitchen! Tell her now so she can get her water wings out, > because we might toss her way down into the august Ottawa > River if she objects! And you say a dear goodbye to Mrs. > Scohy for me right now, Louisie, as it seems I’ve really left > home. > When I get to the island I’ll write you all more often, and > you and Pen can mail back and forth our family epistles. We > really are not far away, you know, and from Trinidad it’s a > non-stop, 13-hour flight to NY (if you choose the right day). > Hug my little namesake too. Dad says she is a wonderful > bundle of energy. Well, any child that lifts up her head at > the age of two hours, and quietly takes a look around, gets a > fair start on that, for sure. She has remarkable potentialities > stored up within her, that baby, and life will be a great ad- > venture. Teach her to live for others, to serve others, to love > others, for her nature is strong; what she does she will do > 100%. Not to possess, but to give is the key; she will live > throughout history if this is her foundation and the Cause > of God her passion. > Send my love also to my boy Frankie, and his little sister, > “Crissel” and hug that dear Hubschi. All my love to you > both— > Mommie > > Dec. 20 > Train to Nagpur > and Indore > Dearest Family, > This is the last letter home that you will be able to answer > while I am in India, for transportation out on Jan. 6 is as- > sured, and from there to London, one night there, and there > to Jamaica, one night there, or even two, and there to Trinidad > to await you. Yes, I may stay two nights in Jamaica, or even > look in at the Weedens or the St. Lucia folks or Edie Rice- > Wray en route to Trinidad, according to where the local plane > stops. I will get to Trinidad by the 13th or 14th, though, and > have everything in hand, including reservations at a Grenada > hotel, through the Air Co., and at Trinidad. > Now I need to know the following, so as to sit in right > with you from Trinidad on. > 1. Day and hour of departure from Trinidad to Grenada > so I can get a seat when I get to Trinidad, or even get it > ordered from this office, to be sure of it. > 2. Please send me three “paper mate” ball point pen fillers. > I want to give two away in Delhi and use one myself. Rush > this. Name store in Lima where they can be further pro- > cured, and price. > 3. Please tuck in my Harper Hair Ointment. It will stop > my hair from falling out before I become a hard-boiled egg. > > I cannot give addresses except the following: > 1. Box 19, New Delhi, India, up to Jan. 6. > 2. c/o David Hofman, Wheatley, Oxon, England, up to > Jan. 8. > 3. c/o Miss Marie Brown, 190 Orange St., Kingston, Ja- > maica, Jan. 9 and 10. > > 4. c/o British Overseas Airways, Trinidad after that. I am > flying strictly with this company and they will save my mail. > England is close to you and Jan. 1 you can mail c/o Hofman > easily, even Jan. 2–3. That Kingston secty. is also safe. > But send fillers here to Delhi by return mail, please, as it > is a promised gift to one who has done many favors for me > here. Bring along some fillers to Grenada, too, as I did not > pack mine, thinking to come right back. > A bit of news to say that the Hindu capital of Banaras > [Benares] seems to be still alive and breathing. One of the > friends in Calcutta, owner of quite a big store there, said he > dreamed that some lovely children from Banaras were build- > ing a beautiful, clean structure and I was directing them. He > climbed to the top and looked out and there he saw also a > Hazira. God grant it. > Then, arrived in Patna I found to my consternation not > one living Bahá’í. But I had an invitation to speak to Rotary > Club (a member heard me back in Gwalior). It was confirmed > by a great spirit and the next day I had breakfast tea with > one, luncheon at the home of another, and evening tea with > still another. And believe it or not, five “New Eras” are en > route for a self-propelled study circle. Friends in Calcutta > promise to run up and look into the nursery from time to > time if these new offspring are found still breathing. Patna is > the ancient capital of King Asoka. > Please thank dear Gert and Floyd; also my Mil and Dolly,1 > > Gertrude and Floyd Spahr were some of the first Bahá’ís in Lima, Ohio. It > was Floyd and Frank Warner who originally spoke with Frank Baker about the > study classes on unity, which led to the first firesides Dorothy gave. Milly and > Dolly Clark were sisters and early Bahá’ís in Lima. > > for their lovely birthday cards. I will not write them, but > they will know how I loved receiving them, I know. > My work in India is almost finished. There is one more > hard pull; the second sacred city, Ujjain, near Indore, and if > four days in Banaras could effect a start, let’s pray for Ujjain > now, as Central India has absolutely nothing. Indore had an > Assembly, now blown away, and this too should be restored. > Miracles have to happen again, and ask a few of the friends > to pull along for this victory. > Oh, and thank Elisabeth1 for her wonderful letter. I read > it many times. > All my love to you as you sit around the dear pullman > table—It’s my birthday now, and I give thanks to God for > permission to live in such a time in God’s moving drama. > Love, D. > Her birthday past and the Christmas holidays beginning back > in the United States, Dorothy moved on to Indore. Her schedule > for the final week of December and the response to her presence > during that last week of 1953 was intense. The following account > of those incredibly busy days is from the Bahá’í News Letter of > India: > MRS. DOROTHY BAKER AT INDORE > Mrs. Dorothy Baker reached Indore at 5 P.M. on December > 23, 1953. Immediately on her arrival she gave a discourse at > 6:30 P.M. at the Gita Samiti in Bara Rawla, Juni Indore on > > Elisabeth Cheney. > > “Journey of the Soul.” The speech was so inspiring that a > pressing request for another talk was made by the members > of the Samiti but the same had to be declined for want of > time. > On December 24, at 6:30 P.M. she addressed members of > the Rotary Club at the Lantern Hotel on “Victorious Liv- > ing. > On December 25, at 9:30 A.M. Mrs. Dorothy Baker ad- > dressed a press conference at the Lantern Hotel. Invitations > were sent to 35 [who] attended and received the Divine > Message of Bahá’u’lláh from her. > At 7 P.M. the same day Mrs. Dorothy Baker addressed a > public meeting at the Vikram Lodge in Madhavnagar, Ujjain > under the auspices of the Theosophical Society of the place. > The subject of her talk was “Victorious Living.” The people > became so pressing to know more that it was announced > then and there that Mrs. Dorothy Baker would visit Ujjain > again and would meet all interested persons in the Grand > Hotel, Ujjain on the 29th–30th December. > On December 26 Mrs. Dorothy Baker addressed the stu- > dents and staff of the Gujrat College, Indore in their hall at > 1:45 P.M. Principal Yajnik, who had already heard about the > Cause when he was in Lahore, was in the Chair, and spoke > very favorably about the Faith. > The subject of dear Dorothy’s talk at this College was > “The New Civilization.” After the lecture, the Principal took > the guests to his room for refreshments and also showed them > the entire College. > On the same day at 4 P.M. Mrs. Dorothy Baker and Bahá’í > friends were invited by the Organizers of the “Balodya Samaj” > of Indore to meet the children at their Children’s Welfare > Centre located in the garden of Narhar Kothari Balodan on > > Mahatma Gandhi Road, Indore. She addressed the children > and distributed sweets among them. > At 6:30 P.M. Mrs. Dorothy Baker spoke on the “Trends of > Social Work in America” at the Maharashtra Sahitya Sabha > Bahvan, Indore under the auspices of the Indian Confer- > ence of Social Work. Her talk evoked so much interest that > some members of this society expressed their desire to at- > tend Bahá’í Study Circle which would meet at the Bahá’í > Centre every Sunday morning at 9:30 A.M. > On December 27 at 9:30 A.M. Mrs. Dorothy Baker spoke > on “A Modern Avatar” at the Theosophical Lodge, Indore. > At 12 noon the same day she visited on invitation the > Manick-Bagh Palace of the Maharaja of Indore and took > lunch with Princess Usha Raja and other members of the > Royal Family of Holkar. Dear Dorothy Baker presented some > Bahá’í books to the Princess who has received good educa- > tion and is the heiress-apparent to the throne of Indore. > At 5 P.M. a public meeting was held at the Gandhi Hall, > Indore, under the Chairmanship of Prof. D. M. Borgaonkar. > Mrs. Dorothy Baker spoke on a Programme for Peace. > On December 28 at 11:45 A.M. Mrs. Dorothy Baker ad- > dressed the students and staff of the Holker College Indore. > Principal Ghose was in the Chair and the subject of her talk > was “Pride and Prejudice.” The audience numbering about > 400 persons were very much impressed. > At 6 P.M. she spoke at the YMCA on “The Eternal Christ.” > Prof. G. W. Kaveeshwar presided. The lecture was much ap- > preciated by all those present and a small group was inter- > ested to know more of the Bahá’í Faith. > On December 29, Mrs. Dorothy Baker went to Ujjain > and spoke to a group of about 25 persons at the Grand Hotel. > On December 30 Mrs. Dorothy Baker spoke at the Maha- > > rajwada School at Mahakaleshwar, Ujjain City. Her talk was > translated into Hindi by Mrs. Shirin Boman. > Mrs. Dorothy Baker accompanied by believers left in a > car for Makshi and Shajapur which are places about 25 and > 45 miles from Ujjain on the Agra Bombay Road. At Makshi > she spoke about the Faith to a group of about 200 persons at > the Dak Bungalow. A Christian Doctor named Dr. Saresh > presided. It was a wonderful meeting for many were heard > to say that they find great truth in the Faith. We then left for > Shajapur. On our way Mrs. Dorothy Baker addressed a small > group which was collected by Mr. Gauri Shankar Sahrma to > pay respects to dear Dorothy. > The biggest meeting which Mrs. Dorothy Baker had was > in the Vikram Talkies at Shajapur when about 2000 persons > listened with wrapt attention to her inspiring talk. Mr. > Kamlakent Dubey, the District Magistrate and Collector of > Shajapur presided and spoke highly of the Cause. Mrs. Shirin > Boman translated Mrs. Dorothy Baker’s talk in Hindi. Lady > volunteers who stood as guard of honour gave salute to Mrs. > Dorothy Baker as she passed through them. This meeting is > indescribable for it was her great spirit which seemed to speak > to the hearts of all those present. She returned to Ujjain late > in the evening of December 30. > On the morning of December 31 Mrs. Dorothy Baker > was invited to tea by Dr. and Mrs. Kapoor who are ready to > declare themselves as Bahá’í s. She left for Delhi at 11 A.M. > It was not possible to give details of the great teaching > victory achieved by Mrs. Dorothy Baker. But friends are > hopeful to establish a few good Assemblies by April 1954 > as a direct result of her visit to these parts. She has moved all > the friends to action. She has taught them the secret of suc- > cessful teaching. She visited every Bahá’í home and gave a > spiritual touch to it. > > In Agra Mrs. Boman thought she and Dorothy could rest and > bathe at the Bahá’í Center, but when they arrived everything had > been stolen from the building. Mrs. Boman found that there was > no fan and it was very hot: > Dorothy said she would like a sponge bath. But there was > nothing there to hold water. Then she came in with two > soup plates and a small towel. She tried to take a sponge > bath with this. I was wondering how a lady from the States > could be satisfied with that. This is how I learned one should > not be attached. I was worried about her comfort—she was > not in the least interested. I learned two things from her. > One is detachment and the other is obedience. > Eighteen days continuously we were together from New > Delhi, Agra, Gwalior, Indore, Ujjain. … I arranged meet- > ings for her. [At one, when] the hall was packed, no one > imagined so many would come. The priests of Zoroastrians > were there, too. > Several days later Dorothy and Mrs. Boman were still together in > Indore. In 1983 Mrs. Boman recalled the impact of Dorothy’s > visit there. > We now have a Bahá’í Institute in Indoa, Central India, the > first Bahá’í Institute in India. When she came we had noth- > ing. It was purchased by the NSA when Dr. Muhajir en- > couraged us to buy a place for deepening. > Suddenly the government wanted land for factories and > wanted to take our land. Notice was sent to us. My daugh- > ter, Ṭáhirih, was asked by the NSA to see if she could save > this property. She went to the highest authority. When the > man heard the word Bahá’í he said, “You speak of the Bahá’í > Faith; when I was a student a lady spoke of it and the whole > > speech was impressed upon my heart.” My daughter asked > who that lady was and he said, “Her name was Dorothy > Baker. I will see that you keep the land.” > Dorothy’s passionate hope still burned. She had written home > on her birthday, December 21, 1953, “let’s pray for Ujjain now, > as Central India has absolutely nothing. Indore had an Assembly, > now blown away, and this too should be restored. Miracles have > to happen again, and ask a few of the friends to pull along for this > victory.” This hope took a first step towards coming true, in the > words of Mrs. Boman, > We were still in Ujjain when she expressed her wish to go > to some village and as we had some Bahá’ís in one of the > villages of the Ujjain area, we took a taxi and went to the > village of Harsodan. My husband had visited several times, > but I had never been. In this village she went with her high > heels and walked in the dust because the car could not carry > us right to the village. We had to leave it on the roadside. > When we went in the village she embraced the women folk > who were all in dirty village dresses, and she spoke to them > about Bahá’u’lláh. She poured all her love on them and won > their hearts. Later on they brought some tea for us which > was really difficult for us to drink as it was very smoky, but > seeing how quickly dear Dorothy sipped the tea, we also had > to swallow it up. This village is of course one village where > we have at present got an LSA and again when mass conver- > sion was started many friends in this village volunteered to > teach the Faith and they are like torch-bearers. Almost the > whole village is now Bahá’í. > During her travels in the area of Indore, Ujjain, and Shajapur, > > Dorothy was becoming much weaker. Mr. M. B. Írání was present > in those cities and noted her condition: > During the whole trip she was feeling sick and running tem- > perature but at the time of speaking and teaching the Faith > she would become all right. … > She was eating very little food only once a day. She liked > tea and coffee and a little toast and butter. She was feeling > weakness and when all alone would break down, even run- > ning a temperature. She had no strength to say her prayers > sitting which she would say lying down in bed. But while > talking on the Cause and Teaching she would become a li- > oness. Her great spirit was felt when she was talking on the > Cause—at the time of teaching there was no fatigue or fe- > ver. > But in Indore, even while speaking, the physical strain became > too much for her. In a public hall she suddenly had to sit down on > a chair near the podium and ask that the microphone be brought > to her so that she could finish her lecture. > At the Intercontinental Conference, before the cable came from > Haifa asking the Hands of the Cause to travel teach, Dorothy > had been talking with Hazel Mori.1 Hazel recalled, > I asked her her plans, for I knew she had resigned from the > National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United > States in order to pioneer abroad. Would it be Latin America, > > Hazel Mori served as a pioneer and devoted teacher in the Philippines > from 1973 to 1995. > > or Europe, I asked, knowing of her tremendous service in > both continents, and the pull she must be feeling toward … > each … or the islands of the Pacific? > “The Pacific?” she said, “Or this part of the world! I would > give my life to rouse India. … Yes, it is already planned. We > have chosen a spot close to both Central America and the > Caribbean, and to South America as well. … My husband > and mother are already proceeding to the Windward Isles, > and I shall wing my way there and touch down to meet them, > so we can cable the Guardian we are all three of us > Knights of Bahá’u’lláh.” Her eyes traveled past me for a > moment. Then with a sigh she said, “But it will be only > ‘touch down,’ because I must go quickly to Chicago for > medical treatment, and I’m afraid this time it will have to be > surgery.” > I was startled into silence by the sad resignation in her > voice. She pushed her plate with most of her food uneaten > away from her, chuckled at me and ended, “I cannot bear > the thought of inactivity! I want to be teaching full speed > every day till the day I report to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in person!” > A. Bashir Elahi noticed that when Dorothy arrived at the air- > port, her first day in India, “I saw a smiling, healthy, charming > lady, intoxicated with the love of God, chatting and laughing > with all the friends ….” But when she finished her travels and > returned to New Delhi, he said, “I noticed that she had become > frail and physically weak; yet her ardor and zeal had increased. > ….” > Toward the end of her trip, in Delhi, Dorothy ran into other > difficulties. At the Constitution House where she and Shirin > Boman were staying, Dorothy’s suitcase was stolen. Mrs. Boman > was very upset for her and wanted to approach someone to com- > > plain about the theft until Dorothy said, “Well, Shirin dear, some- > body needed it more than I did, so let it go.” That was on one of > the first days of 1954. > In Indore Dorothy said to the Bahá’ís, “This is the heart of > India. Let the heart of India beat with the love of Bahá’u’lláh.” > Mrs. Boman found her words prophetic when, almost ten years > later, “the whole of the mass conversion did start from the Indore > area.” She later recalled, > In two things where I did not obey Dorothy I am still > suffering. She said, “Shirin, take the first chance and go and > meet the Guardian.” From 1954 to 1957 I was planning to > go. When suddenly the shocking news of our beloved > Guardian’s death came I wished I had obeyed Dorothy. The > second: You know she went with us and showed us the way > to teach in the villages. Unfortunately we did not understand. > In 1976 Hand of the Cause of God Dr. Raḥmatu’lláh Muhájir1 > spoke about Dorothy Baker in India: > The Guardian told Dorothy Baker to go to India and dis- > cover why we could not teach the masses there. She went to > several villages and then said, “This is the heart of India. > Mass teaching will start in these villages.” Mrs. Boman (later) > wrote the Guardian …. He wrote her to go to the villages > and teach the people. Go to the easy places—not the hard > ones. At a conference Mrs. Boman said, “I have the key. > > For more information on this devoted world traveler and Hand of the > Cause of God, see Dr. Muhájir: Hand of the Cause of God, Knight of Bahá’u’- > lláh (London: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1992). > > Now I know what to do.” She went from one village to an- > other, and as she went, whole villages became Bahá’í. … It > began in the very villages where Dorothy Baker had taught. > Dorothy spoke at forty-four colleges and in thirty-seven lo- > calities in India. She presented a long and detailed report on her > trip to the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of India. By > that time Mrs. Boman was serving on the Assembly. When she > replaced a previous member in a by-election during Dorothy’s > visit, Dorothy pressed an anointed handkerchief into her hand > and said, “My prayers have been answered. Now I send you to > this NSA to act as its mother.” > At one point in her travels through India, Dorothy visited with > Hushmand Fatheazam and his family. Only ten years later Mr. > Fatheazam would be serving at the Bahá’í World Center as a mem- > ber of the Universal House of Justice; when Dorothy met him he > was pioneering in an Indian village. A step in the transition from > one kind of service to another may perhaps be attributed to Dor- > othy Baker’s influence: > She was with us for one week. Toward the end of the stay > she said the possibility to serve the Cause was greater in the > capital than in a village and rather insisted that we go to > New Delhi although it was not a pioneering goal. A few > months later when I had finished the scholarship—I was on > a two-year scholarship—I left. There was an opportunity to > go to Panchgani to serve in the New Era school, but instead > we did what she said because she came on the instruction of > the beloved Guardian and knew what was best. > In Gwalior Dorothy admired the surroundings of the palace as > she stood at its gate after her visit with Queen Vijyaraja Scindia > > and said, “One day the banner of the Greatest Name will be raised > at this palace gate.” In the Five Year Plan given to the National > Spiritual Assembly of India, the Universal House of Justice asked > that a National Bahá’í Conference be held in Gwalior. Over nine > hundred believers passed through the gates of the chosen site: the > palace Dorothy had visited twenty-three years before. Dr. Perin > Olyai, during her speech, reminded the friends that Dorothy Baker > foresaw their presence there. But Dorothy could not forsee her > own future. > > Chapter 22 > BOAC Comet Flight 781 crash & aftermath, 1954 > Dorothy Baker reached Karachi, Pakistan, on the evening of Janu- > ary 8. Ed and Muriel Miessler had probably just received Frank > Baker’s letter of December 24. “The time for my trip is getting > closer right along and I’m going to be mighty glad to see my girl > friend again—It will have been over 15 weeks since Dorothy left,” > the longest they had ever been separated. > On January 9 Dorothy met the local believers in the Bahá’í > Hall Garden. At 10:30 A.M. the meeting began. Dorothy described > her experiences in Haifa, the hopes of the Guardian for the suc- > cess of the Ten Year World Crusade, and she briefly recounted > her experiences of the previous year. She spoke of pioneering and > of her mother who was in her eighties but would be meeting > Dorothy, with Frank, in the Antilles. She called for pioneers, ask- > ing that nine persons volunteer. She shared the experiences and > sacrifices of American pioneers, and then her strong voice rang > out to the gathering, “Go out, ye conquerors of hearts, deter- > mined never to return, if need be. In particular I call upon the > Bahá’ís of Zoroastrian background to pioneer. The Guardian has > willed it. Nearly one year has passed since the Ten Year Plan came > into force and pioneers have not gone to many of the goals. What > face shall we show to the beloved Guardian?” > Nineteen people stepped forward from among the Bahá’ís lis- > tening. Since Rustam Jamshidi’s parents were pioneers to Paki- > > stan, he grew up in Karachi. As a youth he took the photograph > of Dorothy Baker standing in the gardens of Bahá’í Hall, speak- > ing to the gathering. Years later in Northern Ireland, he and Beman > Khosravi, also a pioneer from Iran to Pakistan, recalled the day > and the evening with Dorothy Baker. When the volunteers stepped > forward, she turned to them and said, “Oh, dear! I have nothing > to give you! I give you my life. I give you my love. You will all be > blessed.” > At 4 P.M. Dorothy attended a party given in her honor in those > same gardens. The guests included the city magistrate, civil judges, > ulama, and the editors of English and Urdu newspapers. Dorothy > spoke for half an hour. When she finished, a tax officer in atten- > dance said, “If for nothing else than for the conviction with which > she speaks, I am convinced of the truth of the Bahá’í Faith.” > At dusk the gathering in that Pakistani garden dispersed. Many > of them came together again at the airport in a large room filled > with flowers, news reporters, and friends. There was one prob- > lem. Dorothy did not have the British papers required to board > her flight. At the airport, as her departure time neared, she and a > few others retired to an adjoining room. There she strode up and > down, repeating the Remover of Difficulties. > The flight was announced. As she returned to the departure > lounge, the other passengers were preparing to board. Then the > Bahá’í entrusted with the task of arranging Dorothy’s documents > came running in, waving the papers over his head. Minutes later > the friends watched as the jet “Comet” took off. > In Africa at the Intercontinental Conference in Kampala, Isobel > Sabri had talked with Dorothy about several things, among them > teaching and Dorothy’s favorite airplane, the Comet: > One of my most memorable experiences with Dorothy was > in Africa where she accompanied my husband, Hassan, and > > me “on safari” by road from Kampala, Uganda, to Nairobi, > Kenya, after the first Intercontinental Conference in 1953. > She then continued her journey to Tanganyika by plane, > and we met her again there as Dar es Salaam was our pio- > neer home at that period. > During the tiring, dusty two-day journey to Nairobi by > car she shared with us her pilgrims’ notes and her impres- > sions of the beloved Guardian. She told us that she had ex- > pected the Guardian to give her clear directions for her fu- > ture services as a Hand of the Cause, but he had not done so > and this had greatly perplexed her. > One evening I was visiting her in her hotel room in > Nairobi. I told her that I was not happy about our teaching > work in Africa, as we weren’t getting the results we wanted. > She gave me the pamphlet The Spiritual Potencies of that > Consecrated Spot. Her advice to me was to study the life of > Bahíyyih Khánum if I wanted to learn how to serve the Cause. > Dorothy had a great love of the new Comet jet aeroplane > on which she had travelled to Africa and which had just been > put into service by the British. In this connection she spoke > of the wonders of modern science and related this plane to > Shoghi Effendi’s statement regarding the perfect regularity > and speed of future travel. She always seemed to see the > significances in world affairs which related to statements con- > tained in the Bahá’í writings. In Entebbe, Uganda, we had > bidden farewell to a sizeable group of the Hands of the Cause > who were travelling out of Africa by Comet. We had spoken > of being worried that so many Hands were on the same plane. > Dorothy had turned to us joyfully and said reassuringly, “You > needn’t worry—it’s a wonderful plane.” > On the tenth of January, almost a year after the Kampala Confer- > > ence, Dorothy was on board a Comet again. The flight left Karachi, > stopped in Beirut, then Rome, where Dorothy mailed her final > reports to the Guardian. She reboarded with the other passengers > traveling to London; at 9:31 A.M. the plane lifted off the runway. > A fisherman from the Italian island of Elba, Giovanni di Marco, > was on his boat, just south of the island when he heard the whine > of a plane. “It was above the clouds. I could not see it. Then I > heard three explosions, very quickly, one after the other. > “For a moment all was quiet. Then several miles away I saw a > silver thing flash out of the clouds. Smoke came from it. It hit the > sea. There was a great cloud of water. By the time I got there all > was still again.”1 > On the beach a few days later a reporter found a handbag be- > longing to another of the Comet’s twenty-eight passengers. In- > side was a pamphlet on the Bahá’í Faith. Even in her last mo- > ments Dorothy was teaching. > > Dreams float in another reality. In that realm Dorothy lived. > Around the world Bahá’ís dreamed of her that night and nights > before and after. To one she said, “I never went down. I stepped > straight into the arms of my Lord.” > In Jamaica a teenage boy named Hopeton Fitz-Henley heard > about the Bahá’í Faith from his father, Randolph. The family and > the community were thrilled when the news came that Dorothy > Baker would be visiting Jamaica on her way to Grenada. > The spirit of loving expectation was such, was so moving > that my own spirit, young and curious, was ignited. … I > was not then a believer. The waiting community was shaken > with the tragic news. Really, I don’t remember dreams much > but that night she said to me, “Don’t worry Hopeton. I was > > The Daily Telegraph and Morning Post, no. 30, 736, London, January 11, 1954. > > not in that plane. Thanks to Bahá’u’lláh, I took another plane > and went away.” Her words were warm, loving and reassur- > ing. > When I told my father about the dream he said that once > he had expressed to Dorothy Baker that none of his children > had become Bahá’í. She had told him not to worry, that one > of them would some day. > Rosemary Sala dreamed that she saw Dorothy dressed in silvery > white, standing on resplendent shining shores. “The rolling waves > separating her shore from mine changed into ripples of Arabic > writing and I seemed to receive an impression of Dorothy saying, > ‘the waves of the ocean may divide but the Word of God unites.’” > > 68. Dorothy Baker in Karachi, January 9, 1954, in the gardens of > Bahá’í Hall. Her last public appearance, the day before her death. > > Gloria Faizi—a writer, wife of Hand of the Cause Abu’l-Qasím > Faizí, and an active teacher—was pioneering in an Arabian coun- > try with her family at the time of Dorothy’s death, a country > where teaching was not possible. Shortly after the accident Mrs. > Faizi called on a friend whose daughter died on the same flight. > Mrs. Faizi told her friend that she had also lost someone precious > to her on that flight, and mentioned the name of Dorothy Baker. > To Mrs. Faizi’s surprise the grieving mother looked up through > her tears and asked “What does Bahá’u’lláh have to say about life > after death?” Mrs. Faizi was shocked as she had never mentioned > to her friend that she was a Bahá’í, nor was she aware that her > friend knew of the Bahá’í Faith. She then reached into her purse > and gave her a pamphlet called “Life After Death.” She also told > the lady, “I dreamt of the next world. There I saw Dorothy Baker > with your daughter and Dorothy was guiding her.” These words > were a source of great comfort to her friend. She began to inves- > tigate the Faith and later became a Bahá’í. > In January 1954, at the time when she heard of Dorothy’s death, > Florence Mayberry was in Montreal at the Maxwells’ home. > I went upstairs to pray in ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s room, not specifically > about her, although I had this on my mind. I never knew > Dorothy, although I once sat in an audience and heard her > speak. I never met her. I had a strange feeling in that room > (which could be total imagination) that Dorothy Baker was > telling me that when there is a spirit existent, and there is an > open channel, almost like a sieve that water can pour through; > this water of the spirit doesn’t care where it goes because it’s > in movement, in flow, and will flow wherever the opening > is. I had a strange feeling that she was saying that she was > going to help me. I thought to myself, “You crazy woman, > you. You never knew her. She doesn’t know you. She never > > heard of you. This is ridiculous.” But I couldn’t forget it, > nor have I ever forgotten it. It was comforting, as though I’d > be helped by some quality that she had. > Many years later, when I had been appointed an Auxil- > iary Board member and had served in that capacity for many > years, I was at a convention in Wilmette. A woman from > Lima whom I had seen and knew by sight, but not by name, > came to me and said, “Oh, Florence Mayberry, I have to speak to > you. I have a message for you from Dorothy Baker.” > I told her, “I wish that were true, but it can’t be, because I > never knew her and she didn’t know me.” > The woman said, “Indeed she did,” and I said, “How could > she? Because I never met her. I was merely once in an audi- > ence when she spoke.” She said, “I don’t care. It’s you. It’s > your name. Dorothy Baker said to me, ‘There’s a girl in Cali- > fornia we have to keep an eye on. We have to watch her > because she’s going to accomplish something in the teaching > field. That girl’s name is Florence Mayberry.’” > I insisted that it could not be I. “Are you sure it wasn’t > some other name?” > “Yes,” she said, “I know you, it’s you. It was your name.” > Immediately, I thought back to that day in Montreal. > > Florence Mayberry was later appointed to the first Continental > Board of Counselors for North America and later served as a mem- > ber of the International Teaching Center in Haifa for ten years. A > writer, she has been active in many areas of Bahá’í life, notably as > a lucid and moving speaker. > On January 11, 1954, Marion Hofman wrote to Frank Baker, > describing the delight Dorothy’s October visit had given her fam- > ily and the events of the last days: > > Then came a cable about a week ago which we did not quite > understand, but took to mean she would be in England only > five hours and would fly out the same day. It said she was > arriving January 10, “bring coat or blanket, need five hours > rest.” I was bitterly disappointed, as the NSA had asked me > to speak at Teaching Conference in Liverpool on January > 10th, and I really felt unable to change this. So after talking > over her cable, we decided to invite a lovely Bahá’í, our local > secretary, Miss Jean Campbell … to accompany David and > the children by car to meet Dorothy’s plane at 10 A.M. They > were all filled with eager anticipation. … > For my part, I went off to Teaching Conference on Satur- > day morning (the 9th). I had it in mind to suggest Dorothy > might telephone the Conference if she felt equal to it, but > in the rush of departure I forgot. When I found that the > Conference Room had a telephone in it, I felt impelled to > get up early and call David at 7:30 on the 10th, before they > left home, and I gave him times to call, suggesting 3 P.M. as > perhaps the most propitious on the Conference agenda. (You > will perhaps recall that Dorothy came to a Teaching Confer- > ence in Birmingham a few years ago, and was its heart and > soul.) > That morning, as Conference was convening just after ten > o’clock, I felt moved after the prayer to ask to announce > Dorothy’s expected arrival in England (at 10:00 A.M. that > very hour), and the possibility she might call. I spoke of the > blessing her very presence on English soil would bring to > the Conference. The friends were all very excited and happy. > Now I know, after seeing the newspapers, that our dearest > one must have flown away, perhaps even as we spoke her > name amongst the friends, for the hour of the crash is said > to have been 10:15 A.M. > > At that time David Hofman and his small party were waiting at > the airport. In a report of January 10 and the days following, he > wrote, > Jean Campbell, May, Mark and myself, went to the London > Airport to meet Dorothy, Marion being at the Teaching Con- > ference; we expected five hours with her and hoped she would > come home for the night. > On arrival at the airport we were told the Comet was due > at 12.10 (we had come for 10.40). > At 12.55 we were told it had been changed to 12.40, but > no signal had yet been received as to its approach. > At 1.20 an officer (lady) came to the spectator’s enclosure > where we were waiting and asked if I would go to see the > flight manager, and she would escort Jean and the children > to the lounge. I thought he was apologizing for the long > delay and was going to give us a “ringside” seat. > The Manager (Mr. Irwin), much perturbed, showed me a > map and said the plane was down in the Tuscan Sea. Wreck- > age had been sighted and they could offer very little hope for > anyone. He asked for Mr. Baker’s address and I said I could > provide it when I got home. We exchanged telephone num- > bers and he promised to telephone me at the Bull Hotel in > 45 minutes. He confirmed that Dorothy was aboard. … > At the Teaching Conference, Marion Hofman awaited the call > she thought would come from Dorothy. She described this time > in a letter to Frank Baker. > As 3 P.M. came and went, and no call, I wondered what had > happened. We were hearing reports of the four Conferences, > and were in the midst of New Delhi, when the phone rang. > > Instead of asking for John Ferraby, the NSA Secretary, as I > had suggested, the call was for the NSA Chairman, Hasan > Balyuzi. We knew it was David, for he spoke his name. And > then nothing except, from Hasan in a very low voice, four > times repeated: “Oh dear … oh dear …” Then Hasan > called me and I went to the phone. David said: “I have just > sent this cable to the Guardian.” And he read it. [“BOAC AD- > VISE COMET CARRYING DOROTHY BAKER MISSING TUSCAN SEA ONLY > VERY FAINT HOPE WILL ADVISE. …”] I could think of no words, > but asked him to read the cable again slowly, while I re- > peated it aloud to the friends. There were sixty of us present. > As I left the phone and walked half the length of the room, > I heard no sound but my own footfalls. In this silence of > shock and grief, the Conference Chairman, Richard > Backwell, said the “Remover of Difficulties” nine times. > Dear Frank, it was indeed the propitious moment— > Bahá’u’lláh’s very chosen moment—for all the depth of our > collective love and sorrow to bring to the friends that di- > mension of dedication which the NSA had earnestly hoped > would be the result of this Conference. It was just before the > final talk, the summation of the Conference, which I had > been asked to give. I spoke of Dorothy, dear Frank,—that > whatever her fate, it had come to her in the path of our > Guardian’s service; that if she had indeed been taken, it was > God’s mystery, for she was and is in her prime. … You will > guess what spirit of unity and devotion was attained in the > closing hour of the Conference, with this mysterious heart- > rending event throbbing in every consciousness. > I did not reach home, by train and coach, until 2 A.M.— > and all the while she lived in my heart, and has been there > all day. This morning we received a beautiful letter from her. > I attach a copy, for we cannot bear to part with her own > handwritten words. > > My very dears, > I have just telegraphed about arriving Sunday morning > January 10th by Comet, and requesting five hours rest be- > fore having to meet anyone. > Also, if you receive this in time, I wonder if you would > mind sending along to the airport an enormous old wool > coat (David’s maybe, but not dainty Marion’s!) or a blanket > in which to bundle? I came prepared only for summer and > my family planned to meet me on my return to NY at the > end of OCTOBER with something fairly warm. Isn’t this a > scream? I keep getting cables to stay on, and the enormous > wisdoms of it are only now coming home to me, I assure > you, but meanwhile I freeze. So save me as best you can. I’ll > be wearing the purple wool suit, and that is all you will be > seeing me in at any time; I know the friends won’t mind. On > arrival in the West Indies I shall gradually thaw out, feet > first, I hope. > Save time for “just us,” too. I go right back out on the > eleventh but cannot tell you the time at the moment. I would > make no appointments for the eleventh for me unless we do > it on the spur of the moment. > You can’t imagine how much I am looking forward to our > cozy visit. That is if no more cables come! I will share with > you some ecstasy and tears, some love and laughter, and a > real from-the-heart prayer— > Dearest love, > Dorothy > > The morning after the Comet went down, Mr. Furútan sat at > breakfast at the home of the Hand of the Cause Clara Dunn— > Mother Dunn, as she was called. After the New Delhi Confer- > ence, the attending Hands had been asked to visit various areas; > he was traveling in Australia. Reading the paper, as he often did > > to absorb a feeling for the concerns of the people in the countries > he visited, Mr. Furútan came upon a small article about a tragic > accident involving a BOAC Comet after its safe flight from Karachi > to Rome. His eyes scanned the list and stopped. D. Baker. He > knew she had been asked to travel through India and Pakistan, as > he had been asked to travel to Australia. > “Could it be Dorothy Baker this article mentions?” > Then one Hand of the Cause reassured the other. “Why would > that ‘D. Baker’ be our Dorothy? There must be hundreds, thou- > sands of ‘D. Bakers’ in the world.” > Comforted by Mother Dunn, Mr. Furútan caught his flight to > Jakarta, Indonesia, and forgot the sharp pang of fear that had > touched him. As the plane neared Jakarta the air hostess called his > name. There was an urgent cablegram from Haifa. > In Jakarta dear Mr. Furútan went alone and mortified to his > hotel room, where his weeping could not release the desolate sad- > ness of the loss. “Why such a young beauty, such a teacher? It was > a very great shock to me,” he told pilgrims at Bahjí twenty-seven > years later, tears coming again to his kind, dark eyes. “For several > months after I couldn’t come to myself.” > In Haifa that night, the Guardian did not come to dinner. > Unannounced, his car arrived at Bahjí. As he opened the car door > for Shoghi Effendi, Salah Jarrah, the custodian of Bahjí, was sur- > prised to see his evident grief. Alone, the Guardian walked the > gardens he had begun to plant just a year and two months before. > Salah saw him then enter the Mansion and followed to see if he > could be of any service. Shoghi Effendi was in his room. He said > to Salah, “I have come tonight specially to pray for Dorothy Baker.” > His cable from Haifa to the United States read, > HEARTS GRIEVED LAMENTABLE, UNTIMELY PASSING DOROTHY > BAKER, DISTINGUISHED HAND CAUSE, ELOQUENT EXPONENT ITS > > TEACHINGS, INDEFATIGABLE SUPPORTER ITS INSTITUTIONS, VAL- > IANT DEFENDER ITS PRECEPTS. LONG RECORD OUTSTANDING SER- > VICE ENRICHED ANNALS CONCLUDING YEARS HEROIC OPENING > EPOCH FORMATIVE AGE BAHÁ’Í DISPENSATION. FERVENTLY PRAY- > ING PROGRESS SOUL ABHÁ KINGDOM. ASSURE RELATIVES PRO- > FOUND LOVING SYMPATHY. NOBLE SPIRIT REAPING BOUNTIFUL RE- > WARD. ADVISE HOLD MEMORIAL GATHERING TEMPLE BEFITTING > HER RANK IMPERISHABLE SERVICES. … > SHOGHI > > Haifa, Israel > January 13, 1954 > > “I beg you to pray that God will accept my life as ransom for > our beloved in Haifa,” Dorothy had written to Agnes Alexander > in 1952, “and assist me, in whatever service he chooses to confer, > to fill that cup to overflowing, with joy that will uplift his over- > burdened heart. Deepest loving appreciation, Dorothy Baker.” She > wrote to others in a similar vein, among them Amatu’l-Bahá > Rúḥíyyih Khánum: “When next you have the privilege of enter- > ing the Tomb of the Blessed Beauty, dearest Rúḥíyyih, will you > pray that my life may be a ransom to the Guardian?” > Though Dorothy had longed to sacrifice her life for him, she > felt, a year before her death, that the Guardian was the ransom for > the believers, not the other way around: > He is at times a servant and again a King; and he is at once > the point of all joy and again the nerve center of suffering. … > He is alas, a ransom; we are his beneficiaries. He suffers the > grief of the Prophets and yet is the “true brother.” And as he > casts himself into the sea of sacrifice, he is willing to cast us, > one and all, into that shining sea also. > > Willing though he may have seemed, losing Dorothy Baker into > that “shining sea” caused him great pain. To Hermann Grossmann, > another Hand of the Cause of God, he wrote on February 8, > The sudden passing of dear Dorothy Baker is indeed a great > loss to the Faith, and leaves a sad gap in the ranks of the > Hands of the Cause. She was exemplary in so many ways, > and her services can ill be spared at this important period in > Bahá’í history. > No doubt there is a wisdom in such calamities; and > through her death others may feel moved to become more > consecrated to the service of the Faith. Surely such a soul’s > influence will continue to be felt in this world. > When Loulie Matthews spent a day with the Guardian in Haifa > in February 1954, they talked about Dorothy’s death and about > Loulie’s book, Not Every Sea Hath Pearls. Shoghi Effendi’s gaze > wandered out toward the sea. He grew quiet, then said, “Now the > Mediterranean has the blessing of the pearl that was Dorothy.” > > Epilogue > > Frank A. Baker > 615 West Elm Street > Lima, Ohio > March 26—54 > My dear Muriel and Ed— > I didn’t get back to Lima till March 17th and find stacks > of wires and letters to be answered. Many thanks for your > nice letter. We were on our way to meet Dorothy in Grenada > when we got word at Fort Lauderdale, Florida about the ac- > cident. Bill and Louise met Mother and me in New York > and we went on to Rome. Dorothy’s body was not recovered > and we held funeral services at sea on Jan. 18th. Mother and > I went on to Haifa—returning to Rome where we waited > for a month to see if they could bring up any part of the > plane containing passengers but I do not believe now that > there were any large pieces left. > The explosion took place twenty minutes out of Rome > and everyone was killed instantly. There was no suffering > and for this at least I am thankful. > While Dorothy’s life was not long I do not know of any- > one who has accomplished as much in a full lifetime as Dor- > othy in her short span of years. We had thirty-two wonder- > ful years together. > > We are going to erect a memorial for Dorothy on the > temple grounds in Rome. > Thank you so much for your sympathy and prayers. > Love from all of us > Frank > The Hand of the Cause of God Ugo Giachery > I received a cable from Shoghi Effendi to go at once to the > scene of the disaster and went, alone. My wife … later > escorted the Baker family there. … > The fishermen were picking up the pieces of the airplane. > They picked up a pamphlet and gave it to a newspaperman— > a tall fellow, I don’t remember his name. It was An Early > Pilgrimage by May Bolles. He saw “Bahá’í” and threw it back > into the water. When he realized what he had done he hired > a boat to go out and look for it. He found two or three > traveler’s checks, but nothing else. … > Louise Baker Matthias > When the family went to Porto Ferraio, on the island of > Elba, it was thought that Mother’s was one of the bodies > recovered from the sea. It was quickly determined that this > was not true. In Italy Ugo and Angelina Giachery and in- > deed all of that dear community took us to their hearts and > sustained us with their love. > We travelled north on the train toward the port of > Piombino. From there we took the ferry across to Elba, land- > ing at Porto Azzurro. On the quay a large crowd had gath- > ered. Ugo told us that the local people knew when we were > > to arrive and had come to show their sympathy. I saw that > the women, all dressed in black, and some of the men as > well, were weeping. No one said a word, and they parted > quietly to let us through. Across the island in Porto Ferraio > we encountered the same quiet, supportive sympathy. > The next day before the memorial was to be held I be- > came distraught when I realized that we had no flowers. I > searched the town and asked officials and the hotel person- > nel where flowers might be purchased, but none were to be > found on the island. But the next day, just before the me- > morial service, Dad was handed a large bouquet of red car- > nations. > Two ships were provided by the Italian navy, one much > larger than the other. The larger ship’s deck was crowded > > 69. Elba, 1954, on route to the spot where funeral services > were held at sea for Dorothy. > > with mourners, clerics, reporters, sailors and officers. Only > we were on the smaller ship, with a handful of reporters and > the ship’s own crew and officers. I suppose the officials didn’t > quite know what to do with a family whose faith they thought > might be non-Christian, or at least different and unfamiliar. > When we arrived at the site where the debris of the Comet > had disappeared into the sea the two ships lined up facing > each other, a rather narrow expanse of water between them. > On the larger ship across from us there was considerable > ceremony. I believe a mass was said and a huge wreath was > carried to the ship’s rail and ceremoniously slid over the side > to drop into the sea. > On our ship we said prayers: those for the departed, the > Tablets of Visitation, and the Tablet of Aḥmad. As we finished > each of us dropped a few carnations into the sea. The cap- > tain and other officers and sailors stood nearby and again we > felt their sympathy. Later several of them spoke to Ugo and > told him how touched they were by our simple ceremony. > They asked about the Faith that was so new to them but > whose spirit they felt so deeply. > As Dad, Aunty Lou, Bill and I sat in a small sala in the > Hotel Massimo, feeling as though this were somehow the > ultimate deprivation, I suddenly recalled a day almost twenty > years earlier. Dad and I sat at the pullman table when Mother > came in after taking some friends to the train who had come > to Lima to visit Mother Beecher’s grave. Mother dropped > into her chair at the end of the table and after talking for a > few minutes about the visit, suddenly said, with consider- > able heat, “I hope people don’t make a shrine of my grave > after I’m buried!” Dad chuckled and asked, ‘And how can > you make sure they won’t?” Mother considered a moment > and then answered, “If I could really have my choice, I would > > be buried at sea.” Later Mother added, “And if I could choose > the sea, then it would be the Mediterranean, whose waves > will lap eternally on the shores of ‘Akká.” > In the course of the next forty days, I often found Dad > with his Bahá’í prayer book in his hands, open to the prayers > for the departed. “It’s the last service I can render her,” he > told me. It wasn’t, he felt, that she needed his prayers. It was > he who needed the ‘mingling of their spirits’ that Bahá’u’- > lláh promised when He enjoined a forty-day period of prayer > for the progress of a beloved soul who leaves this world. > > * * * > > Haifa, Israel > December 9, 1954 > Mr. Frank A. Baker. > Dear Bahá’í Brother: > The beloved Guardian has received your letter of Novem- > ber 19th, and has instructed me to answer you on his behalf. > The news that dear Mrs. Beecher1 and you have arrived in > Grenada rejoiced his heart. He hopes you may soon find a > suitable house, so that you can get settled there. > The Guardian feels confident, if you will put forth an > effort, and then persevere in your task, you will succeed in > attracting a few receptive souls whom you can teach, and > finally win to the Faith. Everyone who arises for this service > in a spirit of true dedication finds himself assisted in ways > that seem truly miraculous. > You can be sure that your beloved Dorothy from the realms > on high will watch over you and guide you in your teaching > > Dorothy’s mother, Luella. > > efforts. She is no doubt very proud of your having gone to > that foreign land to spread the Faith of which she was such > an able exponent, and to which she was so devoted. > Please convey his kind greetings to Mrs. Beecher. He as- > sures her and you of his prayers for the abundant success of > your labours for the Cause. > With loving Bahá’í greetings, > R. Rabbani > May the Almighty bless keep and sustain you and Mrs. > Beecher, cheer your hearts, guide every step you take, and > enable you to win great victories, and rejoice the soul of > your dear and departed wife in the Abhá Kingdom, > Your true brother, > Shoghi > Elisabeth Cheney was utterly disconsolate when she heard the > news of Dorothy’s death. She had loved Dorothy deeply since > learning about the Bahá’í Faith from her in Lima, Ohio. The third > night after the crash Elisabeth was asleep when she heard her > friend’s voice direct her to get out of bed. Without turning on the > light Elisabeth did as she was told. In the dark she walked to the > dresser and pulled open the drawer Dorothy’s voice indicated. > Under some clothing was a letter written by Dorothy on the eve > of Elisabeth’s departure to pioneer in Paraguay sixteen and a half > years before. Elisabeth opened it and read. > > June 13, 1937 > Beloved Elisabeth: > This is one of those tremendously busy mornings, but a > letter came which was of great importance to me. I read it > with tears in my eyes, and said to myself again and again, > > “There are a few; there are! You have thought that there never > would be those who could give all, everything, but there > are!” And this amazing fact sent me to the typewriter for a > stolen moment. > Elisabeth, all that you have been through, all that you > have learned, all that has passed in swiftly changing pictures > before you on the screen of your life, all this has led up to > the place where you now stand. You have been born in the > > 70. Monument erected in memory of those who lost their lives in > the crash of January 10, 1954. > > Day of God, heralded for centuries. Others, hearing of it, > oppose it or stand idle while knowing its advent. You are > conscious, and you have bowed down before its splendor, > saluting its mighty King, and risen up to call in His Name > to the sleeping nations. … That you may have the greatest > joy in every passing moment. … I want to make sure. I have > only two rules to give you. One is this: Look not to the > creatures. Let your heart be supremely attached to our Be- > loved; then you can serve all of His children with detach- > ment and joy, and never fail any of them, no matter what > they do. When people make mistakes, you are only witness- > ing moments that are hook-ups between states of conscious- > ness. It does not matter. The second rule is this: Make a > joyous thing of the little services, because you can never tell > which is little and which is big in God’s sight. Bahá’u’lláh > said: A single deed done in My Name is equal to the deeds > of a hundred thousand years; nay, I ask pardon of God for this > limitation, for such a deed is without limited reward. So > when you speak His Holy Name, rejoice, be quiet in your > heart, and know that this is a Very Great Occasion, an occa- > sion of pure joy. He verily is the Lord of Hosts, and will > assist you at all times. > And now, dear Elisabeth, let me put my arms around you, > because there will not always be time in this world. If I never > see you, touch you, speak alone to you again in this world, > soldier, know now the comfort you have brought me, and > know that the march is all that matters; the march is all that > matters! And when the march is over, through all the Worlds > of God, the miracle of it all will be continuously unfolded > before us, and there will be no separation. … > With tenderest love … > Dorothy > > 71. Luella Beecher and Frank Baker on the porch of their house > in Grenada, West Indies, 1956 > Louise Baker Matthias > I have wondered if, when he pioneered in Grenada, Dad > ever had an experience similar to mine. For more than two > years after Mother’s passing, whenever I taught the Faith > and particularly when I gave a prepared, public talk, I would > no sooner begin than I would have an incredibly strong sense > of Mother’s presence and it seemed that she spoke through > me. > That first night it happened I had scarcely finished two or > three sentences when I suddenly felt as though Mother were > standing behind my left shoulder. The sensation was so strong > I turned and looked behind me, but saw nothing. I turned > > back to the room full of people and continued to speak, but > did not in any way follow the subject I had prepared. > I had always prepared a speech with great care, with notes > so I wouldn’t forget any major points. After that experience, > however, I tried to follow ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s advice to Lua > Getsinger. I immersed myself in His words, and when I be- > gan to speak I turned my heart to Him. > This happened repeatedly over the next two years or a bit > more … At those times I felt infinitely close to Mother. > Needless to say I sought out every teaching opportunity I > could find. Before each meeting I spent an hour or two read- > ing the words of Bahá’u’lláh and/or ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. I thought > about what I might want to say on whatever subject I had > > 72. Some of Dorothy Baker’s legacy, circa 1955: (back row, left to > right) her daughter-in-law, Annamarie Mattoon Baker, and > daughter, Louise Baker Matthias; (front row, left to right) her son- > in-law, Hubert Matthias, grandchildren, Frank Baker, Dorothy > Matthias, and Crystal Baker, and son, Bill Baker. > > been asked to speak and reviewed stories I might want to > recount to illustrate points. Still, I knew I would probably > not be using any of the material. It was a period of particu- > lar sensitivity and perception. I began to understand what > people meant when they said that the “mantle” of a great > soul who leaves this world can fall on the shoulders of some- > one still here. > The episode ended gradually and naturally. I never felt > any sense of loss as it waned. I was simply deeply grateful for > the experience. She had always been my spiritual as well as > my physical mother, but even during her lifetime I only rarely > felt as close a connection with her as I did during those two > years following her death. > I think Mother’s granddaughter, my niece Crystal Louise > Baker Shoaie, expressed it best when she recounted a recent > dream she had. Cris dreamt she was in Mother’s bedroom in > Lima, Ohio. In actuality the closet there is very shallow, but > in her dream it was a commodious walk-in affair. She walked > into the large room where a few people were trying on clothes > that had belonged to Mother. She, too, tried on several outfits > and found that some fit her well, while others she could not > use. She kept and wore those that fit her and left the rest. > Each of us, both Mother’s physical and her spiritual chil- > dren, of whom there are thousands throughout the world, > share that spiritual kinship with Dorothy Baker. We have all > “tried on her garments” and wear those that seem to fit us. > As we touch her spirit and try to emulate her we all become > her spiritual heirs. > > * * * > > The bounty of Bahá’u’lláh was first conferred through the > > faith and generosity of a paternal grandmother, “Mother > Beecher,” with whom I visited His Holiness ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in > the city of New York. It is a blessed thing to remember the > child who sat entranced at the feet of her Lord and received > His all-merciful love. In that hour all fear was replaced by a > passion for all people. Beside this, only one thing remained; > that Bahá’u’lláh is the All-Glorious redeemer and His power > is equal to all things. This fixed principle became, and still is > the fulcrum and pillar of an otherwise impotent life. > Faithfully, in the service of the Guardian, > > Dorothy Baker > 1952 > > 73. Hand of the Cause of God, Dorothy Baker, 1953. > > Appendix I: > Selected works by > Dorothy Baker > > Hear, O Israel > by Dorothy K Baker1 > The theme song of the Jews, the singleness of God, has lived > through four thousand years. Where can history match this? > The term Israel, Ferdinand Isserman asserts, means Champion > of God. In Ur of Chaldea, the Semitic people first championed > this Cause, led by Abraham, son of Terah, maker of idols. Abraham > is reputed to have been born in a cave and kept in hiding through > his early years, because of the wicked designs of the idolatrous > king, Nimrod, who was warned by the stars of the coming of a > Great One, whose power would encompass heaven and earth. To > Abraham, as to the Prophets long before him, it was given to > know the indivisible nature of God. A story that is something of > an allegory comes down to us concerning his childhood. Coming > forth from his cave one day and seeing the sun, he said: “This is > surely the Lord of the universe. Him will I worship.” But the sun > set and night came, and seeing the moon with her silver radiance, > he said: “This then is the Lord of the world, and all the stars are > > Originally published in The Bahá’í World: A Biennial International Record, > Volume VIII, 1936-1938. Comp. National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of > the United States and Canada (New York: Bahá’í Publishing Committee, 1939), > pp. 754–756. > > His servants; to him will I kneel.” The following morning, when > moon and stars had disappeared, and the sun had risen anew, > Abraham said: “Now I know that neither the one nor the other is > the Lord of the world, but He who controls both as His servants > is the creator and ruler of the whole world.” > One day Terah found his gods burned, and going to Abraham, > he asked: “Who has burned these?” Abraham, replied: “The large > one quarreled with the little ones and burned them in his anger.” > “Fool,” cried Terah, “how canst thou say that he who can not see > nor hear nor walk should have done this?” Then Abraham made > answer: “How canst thou forsake the living God to serve gods > that neither see nor hear?”1 > Nevertheless, Abraham was given charge of his father’s idols to > sell them. One day, tells the Talmud, a customer came, and > Abraham asked: “How old art thou?” “Lo! So many years,” re- > plied the man. “What!” exclaimed Abraham, “is it possible that a > man of so many years should desire to worship a thing only a day > old?”2 > Then Abraham again destroyed the idols and was arraigned > before Nimrod, who said: “Knowest thou not that I am God and > ruler of the world?” Abraham said: “If thou art god and ruler of > the world, why dost thou not cause the sun to rise in the west and > set in the east? … Thou art the son of Cush, and a mortal like > him. Thou couldst not save thy father from death, nor wilt thou > thyself escape it.”3 > After this, Abraham was cast into a fiery furnace and suffered > many things, that he might become “a stream of blessings to pu- > rify and regenerate the pagan world.” > > Jewish Encyclopedia, Vol. 1 > Jewish Encyclopedia, Vol. 1 > Shalsheleth Hakkabalah—Talmud. Translated by M. H. Harry. > > At the hour of Abraham’s appearance, the Semitic people were > reborn. Around the early camp fires the first academics of learn- > ing came into being, schools whose central teaching was the single- > ness and majesty of God. As late as the day of Alexander of > Macedon, these academies remained the most effective centers of > truth in the world. Alexander himself, coming incognito to con- > quer Jerusalem, was himself conquered by the wisdom of the > Rabbis. The Revelation of Abraham was so potent that its effect > lasted many centuries, and so universal that a later writer testifies: > “It is particularly Abraham—the friend of God, upon whom are > founded alike the Synagogue, the Church and the Mosque. > Abraham was not a Jew nor a Christian, but a believer in one > God.—When God said: ‘Let there be light,’ He had Abraham in > view.” > Centuries after the passing of Abraham, Moses the Interlocu- > tor arose to champion the Cause of God. He found his people > fallen into bondage and unfaith. Because they knew nothing of > self-government, Moses laid down mundane laws as well as spiri- > tual, and Israel became a theocracy, a nation rightly proud of a > government founded on divine justice. So to the heritage of faith > was added an extraordinary ideal of obedience, righteousness, and > respect for law. The story of Rabbi Yossi Ben Kisma relates: “I > once met a man in my travels—he offered me a thousand golden > denari and precious stones and pearls if I would agree to go and > dwell in his native place. But I replied, saying: ‘If thou wert to > give me all of the gold and silver, all the precious stones and > pearls in the world, I would not reside anywhere else than in a > place where the law is studied.’”1 This amazing respect for law > gave rise to high ethical morality, and when the foot of the people > > Avoth—Translated by M. H. Harry. > > slipped, inspired men arose again and again to renew the moral > suasion of Abraham and Moses. Rabbi Isserman, in his graphic > little volume, “Rebels and Saints,” recalls them to us, every one > of them a champion. A Nathan who could rebuke a king’s injus- > tice; Amos, the shepherd of the desert who cried out that the > famine was “not a famine of bread or thirst for water, but of hear- > ing the words of our Lord”; Hosea, who warned: “My God will > cast them away because they did not hearken unto Him, and > they shall be wanderers among the nations”; Isaiah, who proph- > esied peace and an Iranian Redeemer to end suffering; Daniel, > whose visions spanned twenty-three hundred years to the “time > of the end.” These were champions indeed. Long after the Jews > ceased to be a political nation, the amazing loyalty to God, the > Single, the One, remained. At one time the law of the Jews and > the idea of the God of Israel was displeasing to the Romans, and > the famous Rabbi Akiva was forthwith put to death. On his lips > were the words that had become the theme song of Israel: Sh’ma > Yis-ro-ayl A-do-noy E-lo-hay-nu A-do-noy E-chod. (Hear, O Is- > rael, the Lord thy God, the Lord is One.) From the Talmud, “— > and as they tore him with currycombs, and as he was with long > drawn breath sounding forth the word One, his soul departed > from him. Then came forth a voice from heaven which said: > ‘Blessed art thou, Rabbi Akiva, for thy soul and the word One, > left thy body together.’”1 > Now to every discerning one, it must be evident that the im- > portance of Divine Unity was very great among the Jews, since > their Odyssey is marked by an ever recurring aria of such strength > and beauty. Bahá’u’lláh has revealed the true meaning of Divine > Unity. Its explanation has two parts. First, God is single and un- > > Berachotch—Translated by M. H. Harry. > > attainable in His Essence. “Regard thou the one true God as One > Who is apart from, and immeasurably exalted above, all created > things.”1 Second, that the true matter hidden in the song of the > Jews is the continued manifestation of this singleness, as revealed > through the great Prophets. “It is clear and evident that all the > Prophets are the Temples of the Cause of God.” The early Jews > evidently recognized that Revelation was progressive and recur- > rent, for we find in Jewish lore: “Adam’s book, which contained > celestial mysteries and holy wisdom, came down as an heirloom > into the hands of Abraham, and he, by means of it, was able to > see the glory of his Lord.” In brief, Abraham received Divine > Knowledge identical to that of the Prophets before him. Why, > then, can we not go farther and say that one God revealed the > Torah, the Gospel, and the Qur’án? Bahá’u’lláh proclaims that > loyalty to one must include loyalty to all, for God and His law > are indivisible. Bahá’u’lláh has brought to a close the Adamic cycle, > a period of evolution covering five hundred thousand years. He > writes: “I have been preceded in this matter by Muḥammad, the > Messenger of God, and before him by the Spirit (Christ) and > before him by the Interlocutor, Moses.—This is the Father of > whom Isaiah gave you tidings, and from whom the Spirit received > his covenant.” Isaiah wrote: “The government shall be upon his > shoulder, and he shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, Mighty > God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his > government and of peace there shall be no end.” > Spiritual unity can come only out of Revelation. It was Revela- > tion that created the ancient unity, Judaism; created Christianity, > a later unity; created Islám. Each has had a potency beyond the > ken of men and of angels, has purified life, made progress, and > > Bahá’u’lláh, Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh, trans. Shoghi Effendi, > 1st ps ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1983), p. 166. > > taught truth. Each, in its primitive period of growth, has exer- > cised the greatest influence and held its world together. In its later > days, each has fallen into disunity and been all but lost to its > adherents. The desire of Bahá’u’lláh is that these courts of maj- > esty become one court, and that God be worshipped as One Lord. > Today He is as torn by idle fancies as in the days of Nimrod. His > Cause is again in need of champions. The ancient Cause of God > has reached the most dramatic point in its history, for evolution, > side by side with Revelation, has brought man to the age of ma- > turity. A Revelation containing the seed of the Most Great Peace > has appeared, and once more a divine government will be born, a > government with powers to subdue the warring forces of the planet > and organize its resources. Bahá’u’lláh calls the world from clan > to superstate, from sect to spiritual solidarity. > This is a challenge to Israel, the champion of God. Can the > clan spirit today prevent a great people from stepping into the > court of a world religion? Never will they be willing to stand cling- > ing to the shadowy past, failing in the greatest adventure of his- > tory. The voice cries in the sacred vale: “Here am I! Here am I!” > Hear, O Israel, the Lord thy God, the Lord is One! > > The Victory of the Spirit > by Dorothy Baker1 > Revelation, the Path to God, has been progressive. Early man > could understand a little truth; later he could assimilate great truth. > Fundamentally the truth was one. With each appearance of truth, > a rebirth of powers has attended it; man has been imbued with > divine ideals, and an ever-advancing civilization has taken new > steps forward. The miracle of new social power is accompanied > by the appearance of a Master Teacher. The lettered Jews sprang > from the spiritual genius of Moses; the glory of ancient Persia > reflects the fire of Zoroaster; unfolding Europe lifts her spires to > the glorious Nazarene; the architecture, astronomy, and poetic > genius of the Muḥammadan world in the middle centuries be- > speak the gift of Muḥammad. “He hath ordained,” writes Bahá’- > u’lláh, “that in every age and dispensation, a pure and stainless > Soul be made manifest in the Kingdoms of earth and heaven.” > To the individual, this is always an invitation to sit at the feet > of the Master Teacher and renew his own powers. Laying aside > the fears imposed today by tradition, the seeker on the Path fear- > lessly looks for the stainless mirror of his age. The Jew who knows > of the majesty of Moses, the Christian who longs to touch the > > Published by the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United > States and Canada in 1943. > > garment hem of Jesus; these are the souls schooled in adoration. > The illumined Writings of Bahá’u’lláh will bring to these, and to > the untutored millions, the light of renewed faith, and the means > of traveling with sovereign power the immeasurable distances of > the Path to God. > The Words of Bahá’u’lláh, coming as a part of the unending > outpouring of the Word of God through the ages, act as the wa- > ter of life upon the thirsty soul, refreshing, cheering, and bring- > ing forth the powers of the seeker. Every life needs the emphasis > of the love of God, but some cast about for a lifetime, failing to > find this Holy Grail of spiritual health and joy. Just as bodies are > sometimes lacking in the food elements that produce health, the > soul sometimes stands in need of a divine physician who can pre- > scribe the missing elements for spiritual success. The few thoughts > given here are chosen from the unlimited mine of wisdom and > explanation offered in the Bahá’í Writings. Space permits men- > tion of only a few. > Power through prayer > Faculties long allowed to rust must be called into activity. Man > becomes like a stone unless he continually supplicates to God. > Prayer is the great quickener. There is no human being who is not > in need of prayer. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, “O thou spiritual friend! > Thou hast asked the wisdom of prayer. Know thou that prayer is > indispensable and obligatory, and man under no pretext whatso- > ever is excused from performing the prayer unless he be mentally > unsound, or an insurmountable obstacle prevent him.” The sin- > cere seeker, however, often asks, “Why pray, since God knows > our needs?” In response, Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá mention > many of the benefits of prayer. > > 1. Connection with God > “The wisdom of prayer is this: That it causeth a connection > between the servant and the True One, because in that state man > will all heart and soul turneth his face towards His Highness the > Almighty, seeking His association and desiring His love and compassion.” > 2. Divine Companionship > “Verily He responds unto those who invoke Him, is near unto > those who pray unto Him. And He is thy Companion in every > loneliness, and befriends every exile.” > 3. Joy > “Know thou that supplication and prayer is the Water of Life. > It is the cause of the vivification of existence and brings glad tid- > ings and joy to the soul.” > “Know that in every home where God is praised and prayed > to, and His Kingdom proclaimed, that home is a garden of God > and a paradise of His happiness.” > 4. Healing > “There are two ways of healing sickness, material means and > spiritual means. The first is by the use of remedies, of medicines; > the second consists in praying to God and in turning to Him. > Both means should be used and practiced …. Moreover, they are > not contradictory, and thou shouldst accept the physical rem- > edies as coming from the mercy and favor of God ….” > “O thou pure and spiritual one! Turn thou toward God with > thy heart beating with His love, devoted to His praise, gazing > towards His Kingdom and seeking help from His Holy Spirit in a > state of ecstasy, rapture, love, yearning, joy and fragrance. God > will assist thee, through a spirit from His Presence, to heal sick- > ness and disease.” > “Continue in healing hearts and bodies and seek healing for > > sick persons by turning unto the Supreme Kingdom and by set- > ting the heart upon obtaining healing through the power of the > Greatest Name and by the spirit of the love of God.” > 5. Protection > “Besides all this, prayer and fasting is the cause of awakening > and mindfulness, and conducive to protection and preservation > from tests.” > 6. Removal of difficulties > “Is there any Remover of difficulties save God? Say: Praised be > God! He is God! All are His servants, and all abide by His bid- > ding!” > “Say: God sufficeth all things above all things, and nothing in > the heavens or in the earth but God sufficeth. Verily, He is in > Himself the Knower, the Sustainer, the Omnipotent.”1 > 7. Increased capacity > “By these attractions one’s ability and capacity increase. When > the vessel is widened the water increaseth and when the thirst > grows, the bounty of the cloud becomes agreeable to the taste of > man. This is the mystery of supplication and the wisdom of stat- > ing one’s wants.” > 8. Effect upon the World > “Intone, O My servant, the verses of God that have been > received by thee, as intoned by them who have drawn nigh unto > Him, that the sweetness of thy melody may kindle thine own > soul, and attract the hearts of all men. Whoso reciteth, in the > privacy of his chamber, the verses revealed by God, the scattering > > Prayers revealed by the Báb, often used in times of difficulty. See Bahá’í > Prayers: A Selection of Prayers Revealed by Bahá’u’lláh, the Báb, and > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, new ed. (Wilmette, Ill.: Bahá’í Publishing Trust, 1991). > > angels of the Almighty shall scatter abroad the fragrance of the > words uttered by his mouth, and shall cause the heart of every > righteous man to throb.” > 9. Intercession > “Those who have ascended have different attributes from those > who are still on earth, yet there is no real separation. In prayer > there is a mingling of station, a mingling of condition. Pray for > them as they pray for you.” > “Asked whether it was possible through faith and love to bring > the New Revelation to the knowledge of those who have departed > from this life without having heard of it, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá replied, > “Yes, surely! Since sincere prayer always had its effect, and it has a > great influence in the other world. We are never cut off from those > who are there. The real and genuine influence is not in this world > but in that other.” > “He who lives according to what was ordained for him—the > Celestial Concourse, and the people of the Supreme Paradise, > and those who are dwelling in the Dome of Greatness will pray > for him, by a Command from God, the Dearest and the Praise- > worthy.” > “O Lord! In this Most Great Dispensation Thou dost accept > the intercession of children in behalf of their parents. This is one > of the special, infinite bestowals of this Dispensation. Therefore, > O Thou kind Lord, accept the request of this Thy servant at the > threshold of Thy singleness and submerge his father in the ocean > of Thy grace ….” > The science of going about prayer is so little understood that > we find ourselves, in the words of Tennyson: > “A child crying in the night, > A child crying for the light, > And with no language but a cry.” > > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá suggested that there were four wonderful qualities > that could help us to pray. The first is a detached spirit. It is a little > like closing a window to the noises of the street, that the strains > of the violin within the room may not be lost. The second is > unconditional surrender of our own wills to the Will of God. > This is very subtle and very difficult, for the self is inclined to > argue with God and to rationalize its own desires, putting them > always first. How few have the singular purity of the child who > wanted a horse more than anything else in the world, and decided > to pray for it. After a time her father said, “God did not answer > your prayer, did He?” “But of course He did,” she said simply, > “He said no!” Concentrated attention is the third quality, and the > fourth, true spiritual passion, that ardor and devotion which dis- > tinguishes the apostle from the multitude. Surely God will raise > to His very Presence the least peasant who whole-heartedly casts > himself at His feet, in preference to the kings of the earth who are > complacent. In the highest prayer, man prays only for the love of > God. > The actual words help concentration. It is good to repeat the > words so that the tongue and heart act together and the mind is > better able to concentrate. Then the whole man is surrounded by > the spirit of prayer. The communes of Bahá’u’lláh are like invigo- > rating breezes; there is great power in using them aloud, for the > exalted pen of a Manifestation of God is a source of power in the > world. Prayer may be likened to a song; both words and music > make the song. > If prayer is to become a guiding force, a protection, a joy, and > the source of divine companionship, it must become a habit. How > often a human being waits for the vicissitudes of life to drive him > Godward when in reality harmony, health, and full victory lie in > continual praise and supplication. One needs to be in a perennial > state of prayer. “The greatest happiness for a lover is to converse > with his beloved ….” > > Victorious living > A man’s goal is God. He is born to tread the Path to God. In > the words of Bahá’u’lláh, “The purpose of God in creating man > hath been and will ever be to enable him to know his Creator and > to attain His Presence.” > Success depends upon surrender to God at every turn. “O thou > who hast surrendered thy will to God,” wrote Bahá’u’lláh, “By > self-surrender and perpetual union with God is meant that men > should merge their will wholly in the Will of God, and regard > their desires as utter nothingness beside His Purpose.” This is the > secret of happiness. “The liberty that profiteth you is to be found > nowhere except in complete servitude unto God, the Eternal Truth. > Whoso hath tasted of its sweetness will refuse to barter it for all > the dominion of earth and heaven.” > Those on the Path are conscious of this joy. They have a sense > of victory that no circumstance, however ruthless, is able to de- > stroy. When the earliest Bahá’í pilgrims found their way to the > prison city of ‘Akká, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá would often call on such radi- > ant souls as the aged Ḥaydar-‘Alí, who, because of his great > suffering and saintly character, was called the angel of ‘Akká. When > the American visitors seemed discontented with their lot, ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá would say that Ḥaydar-‘Alí had also suffered; that he had > been dragged across a desert with his head in a sack! But Ḥaydar- > ‘Alí made always the same reply, “I have known only the joy of > serving my Lord.” > Lady Blomfield, foremost early Bahá’í of England, records the > tender moments when ‘Abdu’l-Bahá made His journey through > the West, and interviewed under her own roof, so many of the > thoughtful of that land. When, people said, “We are glad, oh so > glad that you are free,” He said: > “To me prison was freedom. > “Troubles are a rest to me. > > “Death is life. > “To be despised is honor. > “Therefore I was full of happiness all through that prison time. > “When one is released from the prison of self, that is indeed > freedom! For self is the greatest prison. > “When this release takes place, one can never be imprisoned. > Unless one accepts dire vicissitudes, not with dull resignation, > but with radiant acquiescence, one cannot attain this freedom.” > Martha L. Root, greatest of the Bahá’í teachers in ‘Abdu’l-Bahá’s > era, knew the secret. On her last historic journey through the > West, she was asked the secret of her success and happiness. This > plain little woman who had stood before queens and emperors > with such undeniable power, replied thoughtfully, “It is impor- > tant to find out God’s first choice about everything. Then the > bounties flow, the hearts are made happy, and the spirit of attrac- > tion is at work.” > Such a soul has nothing to fear. There is no circumstance that > cannot be used for progress on the Path to God. “Nothing save > that which profiteth them can befall My loved ones,” testified > Bahá’u’lláh. “The sea of joy yearneth to attain your presence, for > every good thing hath been created for you, and will, according > to the needs of the times, be revealed unto you.” > Radiant acquiescence to the Will of God means obedience to > His Commands and contentment in all that befalls, but it never > means inertia, laziness, and slothful living. Activity in God’s Will > is the law of victory. God can no more guide an inactive soul than > a man can guide a car while it stands by the side of the road. > “Pray and act,” Martha would say. Action attracts the answer to > the prayer. That is the reason for the importance of deeds in vic- > torious living. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote, “By faith is meant, first, con- > scious knowledge, and second, the practice of good deeds.” These > deeds are the wealth of the friends of God. > > Those who have arisen to teach these truths have all experi- > enced the confirming power of assistance which Bahá’u’lláh prom- > ised to His sincere servants. “A company of Our chosen angels > shall go forth with them, as bidden by Him Who is the Almighty, > the All-Wise …. If he be kindled with the fire of His love, … the > words he uttereth shall set on fire them that hear him. Verily thy > Lord is the Omniscient, the All-Informed. Happy is the man that > hath heard Our voice and answered Our call. He, in truth, is of > them that shall be brought nigh unto Us.” > Even daily work done in the spirit of service is an important > part of victorious living, for it is accounted by Bahá’u’lláh as wor- > ship. He writes, “We have made this, your occupation, identical > with the worship of God, the True One.” Living apart for pious > worship is therefore discouraged. As Jesus gave His life to men in > the market places, so must our spirituality find practical expres- > sion among the people. > No life is victorious that cannot live with its fellows. “Blessed is > he who mingleth with all men in a spirit of utmost kindliness and > love.” A Bahá’í drops away all forms of arrogance. His door is > open to black and white, rich and poor, fellow countrymen and > foreign born. “Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one > branch. Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and har- > mony …. So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate > the whole earth.” The practice of social unity by a mere handful > of the champions of God must slowly give rise to the harmony of > the race. > Immortality > The Path to God is a stream of upward consciousness; it does not > > end with this small world. Our existence here may be likened to > an acorn which, if quickened with life, becomes an oak. Or it > may be likened to a child in the matrix of the mother as it devel- > ops its faculties of sight, hearing, and the like, for use in this > world. So does the soul treat this world as a place of beginning in > which it develops its spiritual faculties for use in all the worlds of > God. Many are the assurances of Bahá’u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá > concerning this journey for the soul who faithfully sets out on the > path to God. > First we must know that there is continuance. The true believer > will “eternally live and endure. His spirit will everlastingly circle > round the Will of God. He will last as long as God Himself will > last. … It is evident that the loftiest mansions in the Realm of > Immortality have been ordained as the habitation of them that > have truly believed in God and in His Signs. Death can never > invade that holy seat.” > The other world is a world of knowledge and memory. “Un- > doubtedly the holy souls who find a pure eye and are favored with > insight will in the kingdom of lights be acquainted with all mys- > teries, and will seek the bounty of witnessing the reality of every > great soul. Even they will manifestly behold the Beauty of God in > that world.” The mysteries of which man is heedless in this earthly > world, those will he discover in the heavenly world, and there will > he be informed of the secret of truth; how much more will he > recognize or discover persons with whom he hath been associ- > ated.” > Not a static heaven, but a busy, active condition, bright with > growth and progress, is visualized for us by ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Those > who have passed on through death have a sphere of their own. It > is not removed from ours. Their work, the work of the Kingdom > is like ours but it is sanctified from time and place. “It is as if a > kind gardener transfers a fresh and tender shrub from a narrow > > place to a vast region. This transference is not the cause of the > withering, the waning or the destruction of that shrub, nay rather > it makes it grow and thrive, acquire freshness and delicacy and > attain verdure and fruition.” > Bahá’u’lláh speaks of the power bestowed upon the faithful in > the world of continuance. “The soul that hath remained faithful > to the Cause of God, and stood unwaveringly firm in His Path > shall, after his ascension, be possessed of such power that all the > worlds which the Almighty hath created can benefit through him. > Such a soul provideth, at the bidding of the Ideal King and Di- > vine Educator, the pure leaven that leaveneth the world of being, > and furnisheth the power through which the arts and wonders of > the world are made manifest. Consider how meal needeth leaven > to be leavened with. Those souls that are the symbols of detach- > ment are the leaven of the world. Meditate on this, and be of the > thankful.” > And again, joy is the keynote! “O Son of the Supreme! I have > made death a messenger of joy to thee. Wherefore dost thou grieve? > I made the light to shed on thee its splendor. Why dost thou veil > thyself therefrom?” > “Death proffereth unto every confident believer the cup that is > life indeed. It bestoweth joy and is the bearer of gladness. It > conferreth the gift of everlasting life. As to those who have tasted > of the fruit of man’s earthly existence, which is the recognition of > the one true God, exalted be His glory, their life hereafter is such > as We are unable to describe. The knowledge thereof is with God > alone, the Lord of all the worlds.” > “O my servants! Sorrow not if, in these days and on this earthly > plane, things contrary to your wishes have been ordained and > manifested by God, for days of blissful joy, of heavenly delight, > are assuredly in store for you. Worlds, holy and spiritually glori- > ous, will be unveiled to your eyes.” > > The greatest gift of all, bestowed in the worlds of light, must > be the gift of companionship with the holy souls of every age. The > heart is immediately stirred by such a possibility. The grandeur of > Moses comes close to us; we sit again at the feet of Jesus the > Christ! In short, we come to the conclusion that the true believer > of this illumined time is the associate and intimate of the apostles > of former times. “Likewise will they find all the friends of God, > both those of the former and recent times, present in the heav- > enly assemblage.” “Blessed is the soul which, at the hour of its > separation from the body, is sanctified from the vain imaginings > of the peoples of the world. Such a soul liveth and moveth in > accordance with the Will of its Creator, and entereth the all-highest > Paradise. The Maids of Heaven, inmates of the loftiest mansions, > will circle around it, and the Prophets of God and His chosen > ones will seek its companionship. With them that soul will freely > converse, and will recount unto them that which it hath been > made to endure in the path of God, the Lord of all worlds. If any > man be told that which hath been ordained for such a soul in the > worlds of God, the Lord of the throne on high and of earth be- > low, his whole being will instantly blaze out in his great longing > to attain that most exalted, that sanctified and resplendent sta- > tion.” > An American friend who had enjoyed the privilege of more > than one visit to ‘Akká during the days of the exile of ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá, related an incident that took place at His table. With her > sat persons of varied races, some of them traditional enemies who > had now grown so to love one another that life and fortune would > not have been too much to give if called upon to do so. As the > reality of their love gradually became plain to her, there was born > a ray of the knowledge of the intimacy of the near ones in the > world beyond. When the meal drew to a close, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá spoke > of the immortal worlds. As nearly as she could remember, the > > Words he spoke were these: “We have sat together many times > before, and we shall sit together many times again in the King- > dom. We shall laugh together very much in those times, and we > shall tell of the things that befell us in the Path of God. In every > world of God a new Lord’s Supper is set for the faithful!” > The secret of so great a fulfillment is intimacy with God through > His Messenger. Revelation, the open door to God, is forever linked > with the Revelator. With one gracious gesture God bestows upon > the world a divine physician, a lawgiver, a perfect pattern, and a > point of union with its God. Happy is the heart that experiences > fusion with the Manifestation of God’s Perfection. Paul would be > made alive in Christ Jesus. Stephen, radiant even as the excited > mob hurled him from the cliff, cries, “Behold, I see the Son of > Man sitting on the right hand of God the Father.” ‘Alí, youthful > disciple of this day, proclaims as he offers his life, “If I recant, > wither shall I go? In Him, I have found my paradise.” The Word > of God is the Water of Life, one Word throughout cycles and > ages. The soul, refreshed by new waters, finds itself yet on the old > Path, the ancient, eternal Path. To tread that Path with dignity > and joy, through this world and hereafter, is every man’s birth- > right. Therefore, once in about a thousand years, God, in His > great compassion, clears the Path of superstition and division, > that the way may be made plain once more for the sincere seeker. > And so Bahá’u’lláh has come. > Today the stage is set for the greatest spiritual drama of history, > for the rebirth of the powers of the human race will be for the first > time worldwide and in proportion to infinitely higher develop- > ment. The coming of Bahá’u’lláh marks the close of a great cycle, > the beginning of one infinitely greater. Man has come of age; a > world unity will appear, enjoyed by a new race. Bahá’u’lláh is the > Father promised by Isaiah, the Michael spoken of by Daniel, the > Spirit of Truth prophesied by Jesus, the Mihdí foretold by Muḥam- > > mad, the Friend promised by Gautama, the Sháh Bahrám of > Zoroaster. His coming is the bow of promise in the sky. “The > universe is wrapt in an ecstasy of joy and gladness.” “Peerless is > this Day, for it is as the eye to past ages and centuries, and as a > light unto the darkness of the times.” > > Religion returns > by Dorothy K Baker1 > And when Thou didst purpose to make Thyself known unto > men, Thou didst successively reveal the Manifestations of Thy > Cause, and ordained each to be a sign of Thy Revelation among > Thy people. > —Bahá’u’lláh > Religion is progressive > Religion is progressive, rushing forward like a giant river > from God to the ages, watering the arid centuries to produce flowering > civilizations and holy lives. God speaks, and the merciless opposers > of His truth are swept into the limbo of the forgotten, while out > of the lives of the martyr-revelators moves the age-old, twofold > process of the fall of an old order of things, and the rise of a > believing people, endowed with the power to carry forward an > ever advancing civilization. > > This essay was published as a pamphlet by the National Spiritual Assem- > bly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada in 1945. It was then re- > printed in 1947 and 1953. > > The Manifestations of God > There has never been a prophet of a religion who has not been > doubted. Through under-emphasis they have become dim his- > toric figures who can be judged only by the results apparent in > the world after them. In the light of the Bahá’í Faith, the shadowy > forms of the world’s great Master Teachers stand out again in bril- > liant relief against the mediocrity of their times. Their wisdom is > deathless. They stand alone against the world, arch-types, on a > mount of vision, foreshadowing the perfections of an unfolding > race. Bahá’u’lláh aptly calls them Manifestations of God. As heat > manifests fire, as a ray manifest the sun, these pure and stainless > souls manifest the Will of God whose plan for spiritual evolution > is written, chapter by chapter, in their lives and utterances. They > are despised, mocked, imprisoned, crucified, but out of the cru- > cible of their suffering religion is born again; they are proofs of > the power of God. > The power of the Prophets of Israel > Abraham was a Manifestation of God. The son of a pagan priest > in Ur, He was exiled because He taught the Oneness of God. He > came over into the region of the holy land, a man alone against > the world. By the power of religion, His exile became glorious. > His descendants produced the prophets of Israel, and most of > Europe and Asia came under the influence of the God of Israel. > At a later period Moses appeared, a man who was a stammerer, > known among men as a murderer, who through fear had for a > long time remained in concealment, shepherding the flocks of > Jethro. Yet Moses, standing one day on Mt. Horeb, heard the > > voice of God, directing Him to free the Jewish nation. What could > a stammerer reply? Would He be convincing, even to His own > people? How could He command a Pharaoh? > “Oh my Lord, I am not eloquent,” He lamented, “but I am > slow of speech and of a slow tongue.” And the Lord said, “Who > hath made man’s mouth? I will be with thy mouth and teach thee > what to say.” > After this Moses went into the market places of the Egyptians, > teaching the children of Israel. He revealed the plan of God for > the Jewish people and the people listened with increasing eager- > ness. Only when Pharaoh’s lash descended more brutally they > became afraid and turned away from Moses, for how could they > believe in a single man, alone against the world, against Pharaoh’s > chariots, against starvation and cruelty and poverty? How could > they know that Moses, whose staff was His only companion, would > lead the Jews, six hundred thousand strong, into the wilderness > and the promised land? > By the power of religion Moses fed, housed, and taught the > people, purified their lives, gave them back their faith, brought > them under His civilizing law, and bestowed upon them knowl- > edge and love of God. Moreover, He set in motion a great civili- > zation for those times. The children of Israel became the envy of > the pagans. The civilization of the Pharaohs went down to utter > loss. Literacy, government, and moral values continued for many > centuries to make Jerusalem, the city of the Jews, the cultural > center of the ancient world. To such a development did they at- > tain that the sages of Greece came to regard the illustrious men of > Israel as models of perfection. An example is Socrates, who vi- > sited Syria and took from the children of Israel the teaching of the > Unity of God and of the immortality of the soul. A man found > his highest tribute in the words, “He is like the Jews.” The power > of religion had raised the lowest tribes of the earth to greatness. > > Revelation progresses to Christ > Revelation is progressive, sweeping onward with the natural evo- > lution of the race. Jesus Christ appeared, the living Word of God, > flashing like a giant meteor through the musty period of decline > that marked His generation. > Born of Mary, nurtured in the Jewish church, assisted neither > by His own people, nor by the military powers of Rome, nor by > the intellectual supremacy of the Greeks, Jesus of Nazareth brought > into being, in a mere three-year span of ministry, a Faith destined > to cross seas and continents and enter at last every known coun- > try on the planet. Today hospitals, cathedrals, universities, and > governments testify to the power of religion through Jesus Christ. > Alone against the world, healing, blessing on the one hand, > hurling fierce accusation into the very teeth of a hypocritical and > dormant society on the other, Jesus became the primal point of a > vast civilization. So great was His power, born of God, that Bahá’- > u’lláh in recent times wrote of it: “The deepest wisdom which the > sages have uttered, the profoundest learning which any mind hath > unfolded, the arts which the ablest hands have produced, the > influence exerted by the most potent of rulers are but manifesta- > tions of the quickening power released by His transcendent, His > all-pervasive, and resplendent Spirit. … He it is who purified the > world.” > His was a strange sovereignty. The stars were His lamps; He > had no place to lay His head. Yet His was the sovereignty that > could scourge the money changers! His was the power to say, > “Pick up thy bed and walk!” His was the power to utter the divine > words, “Thy sins are forgiven thee; go and sin no more!” All power > in heaven and earth was given to Him, the humble carpenter. > God does not prove His power by exalting the already exalted. > > From the upper chambers of communion with this Immortal > Beauty, a handful of lowly fishermen conquered the world. > The great Prophet of Arabia > Islam leaves no less a proof that religion is progressive. The > Arabic civilization in the sixth century was sunken into degen- > eracy. Drunkenness and moral profligacy abounded. Mecca, cen- > ter of worship for the pagans, boasted no less than three hundred > and fifty idols, including effigies of Abraham, Moses and Jesus. > Muḥammad denounced the idols, preached against the practices > of the people, and declared the singleness of God. > Muḥammad never fought against the Christians; on the con- > trary, He treated them kindly and gave them perfect freedom. A > community of Christian people who lived at Najrán were under > His care and protection. Muḥammad said, “If anyone infringes > their right, I myself will be his enemy, and in the presence of > God I will bring a charge against him.” > How appalling were the misfortunes that befell Muḥammad! > Alone against the world He preached the truth, and all the pow- > ers of Arabia leagued themselves against Him. That He dared to > bless a girl child was pretext enough for stoning Muḥammad. > When He prayed much in the desert alone, the people flung refuse > at His holy person. A thousand injuries He sustained in meek- > ness, a man against the world. > The scene changes. We find the Arabians emerging to scientific > and moral heights under the refining laws of Muḥammad. Gam- > bling and drunkenness disappeared. The protection of women > was established. The arts flourished, the mathematics, astronomy, > and literature of Cordova and Salamanca became world-famous. > > Moral life was purified. Political unity from Arabia to Spain drew > tribal life upward to national sovereignty. In short, from the low- > est human condition, the people of Islám formed for a time the > most powerful center of civilization. Such is the power of reli- > gion. > Religion moves in seasons > But all religion moves in seasons. Cycles of civilization move > slowly upward, rising and falling with the faith of man. With the > coming of each religion a springtime appears, accompanied by > storms of opposition. The stormy spring passes into summer; re- > ligion bears its fruit, and sinks at last into the cold winter, a petty > tyranny of forms with little vestige of the master passion. > The nineteenth century bore the stamp of a spiritual winter. > Gone was the fervor of the apostles; gone the summer heat of > earlier faiths. Decay, intrigue, and division had swept away the > very foundations of Islám; division and lassitude had eaten into > the fibre of Christendom; Judaism, a thing hunted, presented > neither a strong nor united front. > Into such a world came Bahá’u’lláh1 preceded by the youthful > forerunner and prophet, the Báb.2 > The age in which they appeared was to unfold a story so tragic, > yet so full of promise as to challenge every God-fearing soul. > Dynasties were to fall, religious systems collapse, and moral stan- > dards sag to the breaking point. The earth, careless of inventions > inviting a neighborhood of closely-knit human interests, was to > witness wars of gigantic proportions, more terrible than any known > > The Glory of God. > Door or Gate. > > to history. Out of such abysmal depths, mankind, chastened and > despairing, would need, more than at any time previously, the > wisdom of a Moses, the preciousness of Christ, and in the progres- > sive experience of such recurring bestowals, a Physician for the > specific ills of a new and travailing age. Someone has said, “In > such times great religions perish and are born.” > The Dawn of a New Day > It was one hundred years ago, on May 23, 1844, unheralded by > the world’s leaders, that the Bahá’í Faith was born. The Báb re- > ceived on that day His first disciple, and announced to him the > dawn of a new religious cycle. The scene of the announcement > was a humble dwelling in Shíráz, Persia. > The Báb Himself was a radiant young Persian of some two and > twenty years. He was a merchant by profession, practicing a trade, > as had the Carpenter of Nazareth, two millenniums before Him. > On that eventful day He went, a little before sundown, to the > gate of the city. His tranquil beauty must have arrested even the > heedless, as He stood scanning the faces of the passing multi- > tudes. Among those in the vicinity of the gate that day was a > Shaykhí student, a young man of great inner perception, whose > own heart promptings had irresistibly drawn him to Shíráz, in > search of a great Master. Ḥusayn, like the Magi of old, knew that > a time pregnant with divine power was again at hand. With what > sudden inrush of joy he must have gazed for the first time upon > the countenance of the Báb. Still uninformed, however, of the > reason for his ecstasy, he accompanied His Lordly host to the > modest dwelling chosen to become the scene of the proclama- > tion. An Ethiopian servant opened the door, and the gentle voice > of the Báb addressed His youthful visitor saying, “Enter therein, > > in peace, secure.” On that night the Báb announced to Ḥusayn > His own mission and likewise the coming of a mighty prophet, > “Him whom God would make manifest,” whose coming would > introduce the foretold age of unity and peace. > Except for the fragmentary reports of Ḥusayn, the first dis- > ciple, little is known of the hours that flew in quick succession > from sundown to dawn in the upper room of that house. The > apostle is one of the mysteries of every religion. He attains the > miracle of faith a little before his world, unable to see the end > from the beginning, yet melting, flame-like into the heart of the > Revelator. The commentaries that fell from the lips and pen of > the Báb filled His listener with extreme inner excitement. “All the > delights,” records Ḥusayn, “all the ineffable glories, which the > Almighty has recounted in His Book, as the priceless possessions > of the people of Paradise—these I seemed to be experiencing > that night.” > The Ministry of the Báb > The holy and transforming power of the Báb is the first proof of > our time that religion has come again to mankind. Through the > pen of a chronicler we walk with Him on the lonely road to Shíráz, > whence He has come to meet the armed guards who have been > sent to seize Him; we hear the pleading of the captain of the > guard that He escape to a place of safety lest He be delivered to > His death; we listen to His soft-spoken reply, “May the Lord, > your God, requite you for your magnanimity and noble inten- > tion. No one knows the mystery of My Cause; no one can fathom > its secret … Until My last hour is at hand none dare assail Me; > none can frustrate the plan of the Almighty.” > > We follow His path of exile as far as the city of Tabríz; a thou- > sand excited citizens come out to meet Him. They kiss the stir- > rups that His feet have touched, and offer their children to be > healed. His mercy is like the mercy of Christ; it is given freely, > without hope of reward. > We further watch through the eyes of chroniclers the long > months spent in the prison fortress of Máh-Kú, situated in the > northern mountains. The rough tribesmen crowding at the gate > are Kurds, wildest natives of Persia, and bitter traditional enemies > of the people of the Báb. They listen to His chanted prayers; they > learn to take their oaths in the name of the Holy One within the > walls of the prison; they yearn to attain His presence; their lives > struggle upward. > A glimpse of His martyrdom is likewise witness to the power > of God. He is sentenced to death. A Christian colonel whispers a > plea for forgiveness. “Enable me to free myself from the obliga- > tion to shed your blood,” he entreats his noble Prisoner. “Follow > your instructions,” the Báb replies, “and if your intention be sin- > cere, the Almighty is surely able to relieve you from your perplex- > ity.” The Báb is suspended on ropes, to be shot. Seven hundred > and fifty men led by Sám Khán, the Christian colonel, fire a vol- > ley of shots. The cords are severed by the shots but the Báb re- > mains untouched. The soldiers of Sám Khán flee in terror and he > thankfully retires from his ignoble task. Strangers are brought to > commit the odious deed and the spirit of the Báb takes its flight. > It is high noon. A dust storm from that hour to the going down > of the sun awes the ten thousand witnesses of the scene. One is > reminded of the passing of Christ. The strange paradox of suffering > and sovereignty are again evident, marking a springtide in the > affairs of men. The effects of the martyrdom of the Báb are far > reaching. The Báb is dead but religion marches on. > > Bahá’u’lláh, The Glory of God > More than twenty thousand preceded the Báb to a martyr’s grave; > a bare handful survived Him. Among the few was Bahá’u’lláh, > son of a Persian Vazír of high station and reputation. > As a young man, Bahá’u’lláh showed remarkable capacities, > coupled with innate wisdom. In refusing the highest positions of > State, He won the admiration of a generation steeped in bribery > and petty ambitions, and the wisest men of the realm came to > regard His destiny as above and distinct from others. “All that we > can hope to achieve,” explained one dignitary of the nation to his > own son, “is but a fleeting and precarious allegiance which will > vanish as our days are ended. … Not so, however, with Bahá’u’- > lláh. Unlike the great ones of the earth, whatever be their race or > rank, He is the object of a love and devotion such as time cannot > dim nor enemy destroy. His sovereignty the shadows of death > can never obscure nor the tongue of the slanderer undermine. > Such is the sway of His influence that no one among His lovers > dare, in the stillness of night, evoke the memory of the faintest > desire that could, even remotely, be construed as contrary to His > wish. Such lovers will greatly increase in number. The love they > bear Him will never grow less, and will be transmitted from gen- > eration to generation until the world shall have been suffused with > its glory.” > Bahá’u’lláh spread far and wide the teachings of the Báb and > for a time wisely withheld His own identity as the One foretold. > In 1852, following the martyrdom of the great forerunner and > prophet, Bahá’u’lláh Himself was seized and imprisoned as a Bábí > in the underground dungeon of Ṭihrán. > En route to this loathsome pit, He was stoned and derided by > a populace incited by His enemies to acts of violence. An aged > woman begged to be permitted to cast her stone. “Suffer the > > woman,” said the holy Prisoner. “Deny her not what she regards > as a meritorious act in the sight of God.” With such calm resigna- > tion Bahá’u’lláh took up His toll of sacrifice for a Cause in which > the Báb was the dawn and He was the noonday sun. With a few > companions He was placed in the dungeon in stocks. His words > of endearment continued day by day to cheer their hearts, and no > day passed without singing. “God is sufficient unto me,” ran their > glad refrain, “He verily is the all-sufficing. In Him let the trusting > trust.” > In later years Bahá’u’lláh, with His family and over seventy > followers, was exiled to ‘Akká, Palestine, a fortress city situated at > the foot of historic Mt. Carmel. Here, in barrack rooms, the little > band of first believers lived in such joy as to make them a source > of wonder to all. In these days Bahá’u’lláh wrote to some friends, > “Fear not. These doors shall be opened. My tent shall be pitched > on Mt. Carmel, and the utmost joy shall be realized.” > This indeed was the case; His last years were passed at Bahjí on > the plains outside of the city. Here He wrote and taught, and > often in the summer, the cypress trees of Carmel offered shade to > the world’s greatest Prisoner. This was a fitting fulfillment of the > writings of Judaism, Christendom, and Islám, which had so of- > ten extolled Mt. Carmel. Here the Christian world was wont to > look for the return of the Spirit, Christ, and the fulfillment of the > Kingdom of God. > Here Bahá’u’lláh wrote many of the Tablets to the kings, be- > gun earlier in the exile, enjoining upon them the peace of the > world and advising them of the ways to attain it. Here, in a land > where women were often little more than chattel, He taught the > equality of men and women. Here, in a world removed from > science, He proclaimed the harmony of science and true religion. > Here, in a despotic monarchy He espoused the cause of represen- > tative government, world language, a world tribunal, and federa- > > tion of the nations. Here, in the midst of fanaticism and bigotry > He proclaimed, “Consort with the people of all religions with joy > and fragrance.” > Bahá’u’lláh counted all of the revealed religions as one and the > same. “I have been preceded in this matter,” He wrote, “by > Muḥammad, the Apostle of God, and before Him by the Spirit, > Christ, and before Him by the Interlocutor, Moses.” Recognizing > the differences of emphasis from time to time in God’s revealed > religion, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, “In every Dispensation the light of divine guid- > ance has been focused upon one central theme. … In this won- > drous revelation, this glorious century, the foundation of the Faith > of God and the distinguishing feature of His Law is the con- > sciousness of the oneness of mankind.” > The final proof > The final proof of a religion is its survival and its triumph over > opposition. Were the walls of ‘Akká to obscure forever the hal- > lowed light of Bahá’u’lláh? Could such a community outlive its > founders? The rise of such a Cause out of the obscurity of an > eastern prison gives promise indeed of a power beyond the ken of > men. In a single century the newborn Faith encircled the earth; > invaded sixty countries and seventeen dependencies; numbered > within its ranks no less than thirty races and tore down the barri- > ers between them; published and broadcast its writings in more > than forty tongues; and established a worldwide spiritual com- > monwealth, indivisible by its very nature and universal in its goal. > Through the unpaid missionary efforts of its adherents it has swept > from dungeon to royalty, from Shíráz to far-flung outposts, and > from the first humble disciples to the scholars and statesmen of > the earth. > > The succession > The walls of the prison city closed around Bahá’u’lláh in 1868. At > the time of the rise of the Young Turks in 1908, they opened to > His Son, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the appointed Center of His Covenant, > who subsequently journeyed to England, France, Germany, and > the United States. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá entered the prison city in His > youth and left it an old man. The days of this noble successor > among the western friends were marked by striking victories, for > churches, synagogues, and peace societies everywhere opened their > doors to Him. He who had never faced a public audience, nor > attended a western school, nor moved in western circles, became > “all things to all people,” a universe of kindness, a loving father to > high and low alike, to churchmen and layman, lord and com- > moner. Though broken in health and aged by suffering, His teach- > ing, characterized by brilliant simplicity and kingly humility, was > as bountiful as the rain, and offered to the west the mirror of His > illustrious Father, whom it would never know. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá gave > to the west a profound message of social unity, and there ap- > peared in His lifetime a world community dedicated to the prin- > ciple of racial, national, and religious oneness. > In His Will and Testament ‘Abdu’l-Bahá appointed His grand- > son, Shoghi Effendi, as interpreter and first Guardian of the Bahá’í > Faith. Today the Faith of the Báb and Bahá’u’lláh has moved out > of its apostolic period into a formative era, in which its world > administration is slowly taking shape. Haifa, now a flourishing > seaport across the bay from ‘Akká, is the chosen residence of Shoghi > Effendi, whose World Order Letters have already made an indel- > ible impression upon the stream of international life. Mt. Carmel, > whose cypress trees once sheltered the holy Prisoner, now boasts > the shrines of His family. On its terraces a Temple is destined to > be reared, and the future Bahá’í International House of Justice > > will overlook the Mediterranean, a House dedicated to the ser- > vice of that world community which must remain for all time > inclined “neither to east nor west, neither Jew nor Gentile, nei- > ther rich nor poor, neither white nor colored; its watchword the > unification of the human race; its standard the ‘Most Great Peace.’” > “For our of Zion shall go forth the law,” sang the prophets. > The holy land of Abraham, Moses, and Jesus is again glorious > with religious aspiration. The religion of our fathers returns, open- > ing a new chapter of revelation, and revealing a newly ordered > world, to which the prophetic welcome of the Báb calls every > soul; “Enter therein, in peace, secure.” > > Appendix II: > Selected radio > talks given by > Dorothy Baker > > Bible Prophecies of Today > Again and again we are asked: “Does the Bible confirm the Bahá’í > teachings?” This morning I would like, in part at least, to answer > that question. I suggest that the radio listeners take a paper and > pencil, and write down some of the references used, so that they > may check them over at their leisure. And while you are finding > your pencils, let me answer question number 1 asked by so many > of our fellow Christians: What is the Bahá’í attitude toward the > Bible? When ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the son of Bahá’u’lláh, visited Lon- > don, he was taken by his devoted friend, Archbishop Wilberforce, > to visit the Old City Temple, where he wrote in the Bible the > following words: “This book is the Holy book of God, of celes- > tial inspiration; the Holy book of salvation, the noble Gospel. It > is the mystery of the Kingdom and its light; it is the Divine bounty > and the sign of the guidance of God.”1 These words clearly indi- > cate the belief in the Holy scriptures shared by every Bahá’í the > world over, whether of Christian, Jewish, Moslem, Hindu, or > Pharsee birth and background. Thousands of human beings on > the other side of the world, who have for centuries repudiated the > Christian scriptures, have found complete reverence for these scrip- > tures through Bahá’u’lláh, and have been awakened to the Divine > station of the Christ himself, through the Bahá’í message. > > The quotations in these radio talks that come from the writings of Bahá’- > u’lláh and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá are not always exact. > > The second question is this: Does the Bible promise us a Day > of fulfillment, an age of permanent peace such as the Bahá’ís be- > lieve will appear at this time? Such a Day is predicted in various > forms. Sometimes it is called “the time of the end.” Again it is > “the last days,” “the latter day,” “the Day of His Preparation,” or > simply, “in that day.” Let us write down a few references to that > Day. > Psalms 72:7–8. In His days shall the righteous flourish; and > abundance of peace so long as the moon endureth. He shall > have dominion also from sea to sea, and from the river unto > the ends of the earth. > Isaiah 2:2–4. And it shall come to pass in the last days that > the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the > top of the mountain, and shall be exalted above the hills; > and all the nations shall flow unto it. … And he shall judge > among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they > shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears > into pruning hooks: Nation shall not lift up sword against > nation, neither shall they learn war any more. > Hosea 2:18. And in that day will I make a covenant for them > with the beasts of the field, and with the fowls of heaven, > and with the creeping things of the ground: and I will break > the bow and the sword and the battle out of the earth and > will make them lie down safely. > Haggai 2:6–9. For thus saith the Lord of hosts; Yet once, it is > a little while, and I will shake the heavens, and the earth, > and the sea, and the dry land. And I will shake all the na- > tions, and the desire of all nations shall come, and I will fill > > this house with glory, saith the Lord of hosts. The silver is > mine, and the gold is mine, saith the Lord of hosts. The > glory of this latter house shall be greater than of the former, > saith the Lord of hosts; and in this place will I give peace, > saith the Lord of hosts. > The third question is this: Are there actual signs given in the > Bible by which we know that this is the dawn of that same Day? > Isaiah 11:11–12. And it shall come to pass in that day, that > the Lord will set his hand again the second time to recover > the remnant of his people. … And he will set up an ensign > for the nations, and will assemble the outcast of Israel, and > gather together the dispersed of Judah from the four corners > of the earth. > This sign is fulfilled in the mass movement of the Jews toward > Palestine today. Hosea refers to it again: Ch. 3:4 and 5, “For the > children of Israel shall abide many days without king, and with- > out prince, and without sacrifice, and without pillar, and without > an ephod or teraphim: afterwards shall the children of Israel re- > turn and seek Jehovah their God, and David their king, and shall > come with fear unto Jehovah and to his goodness in the latter > days.” > In chapter 2, verses three and four, Nahum reveals a clear flash > of vision in the words, “the chariots flash with steel in the day of > his preparation … the chariots rage in the streets: they rush to > and fro in the broad ways; the appearance of them is like torches: > they run like the lightning.” > Daniel in his last chapter 12, the first four verses, gives perhaps > the clearest signs of all: “and at that time shall Michael stand up, > the great prince who standeth for the children of thy people; and > > there shall be a time of trouble such as never was since there was > a nation even to that same time: and at that time the people shall > be delivered every one that shall be found written in the > book. … But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the > book, even to the time of the end: many shall run to and fro, and > knowledge shall be increased.” Daniel has here given us four signs; > first, a princely leader, second, a time of great trouble, third, a > running to and fro, and four, an increase of knowledge. The first > is fulfilled in Bahá’u’lláh, prince of Núr, the second in the present > national and economic struggles, the third in modern travel and > transport, and the last in the great strides of science and educa- > tion. > Jesus lists certain signs also. Some of them are war, famine, > earthquake, tribulation, persecution, false prophets, indifference, > the spread of the Gospel to all nations, the coming of the Prophet > from the east, and riotous living as in the days of Noah. In the > 24th chapter of Matthew, the disciples asked: “What shall be the > sign of thy coming and of the end of the world?” Jesus replied: > “For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against king- > dom; and there shall be famines and earthquakes in diverse places.” > The condition of Europe today testifies to the hostility of na- > tions; famines have been plentiful, for in China alone, in 1930, > two million people literally starved; and earthquakes abound; the > Lisbon earthquake at the end of the century just preceding the > life of Bahá’u’lláh cost 6,000 lives. “Then shall they deliver you > up unto tribulation, and shall kill you,” continues Jesus. This > cannot apply any longer to the Christians, since they are in full > power today[;] but may it not be fulfilled in the slaughter of the > 20,000 who gave their lives in the last century for the cause of > God, as renewed by Bahá’u’lláh. To continue, “Many false prophets > shall arise, and shall lead many astray.” Just before the days of > Bahá’u’lláh, a long line of leaders arose in Jerusalem itself, trying > > to seize political power in the name of Christ. Redpath, in his > history of the world, states: “Christ after Christ arose, leading > revolt.” This sign is amply fulfilled. And further, “the love of many > shall wax cold.” The sweep of atheism and indifference today is > startling in its wide spread, fulfilling this sign to a most sorry de- > gree. “And this gospel shall be preached in the whole world for a > testimony unto all the nations.” This sign was fulfilled when the > Christian missions carried Christianity at last to the very out- > posts of civilization at the close of the last century. > Reading on, “For as the lightning cometh forth from the East > and is seen even unto the West, so shall be the coming of the Son > of Man.” Bahá’u’lláh appeared in the east, and His teaching is > only now, after seventy years thoroughly permeating the west. > Many other signs Jesus gives, though we do not have time to use > them. He closed with the warning “For as in the days of Noah > they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage … > and they knew not until the flood came and took them all away, > so shall be the coming of the Son of Man. … Watch therefore; > for ye know not on what day your Lord cometh.” > “Immediately after the tribulation of these days shall the sun > be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars > shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be > shaken.” The former light of religion has indeed been darkened > by materialism and ignorance and the powers of religious institu- > tions like great luminaries are shaken and are falling everywhere. > “But as the days of Noah were, so shall also the coming of the > Son of Man be for as in the days that were before the flood they > were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage until > the day that Noah entered into the ark and knew not until the > flood came and took them all away; so shall the coming of the > Son of Man be … therefore be ye also ready; for in such an hour > that ye think not, the Son of man cometh.” > > So we list the signs given by Jesus in somewhat the following > order: wars, famines, earthquakes, persecutions, false prophets, > preaching of the gospel to all nations, shining of the new light > from east to west, darkening of the spiritual sun and moon, fall- > ing of the stars, and the heedlessness as in the days of Noah. > Sum these up and add to them the tribulations, the running to > and fro, the increased knowledge, spoken of by Daniel, and the > chariots in the streets; here is the startling discovery that all un- > aware we are living in THAT DAY! > This amazing discovery leads to the natural question: Is it pos- > sible that Bahá’u’lláh is the One promised? Bahá’u’lláh appeared > in Persia, part of which in ancient days was known as Elam. > Jeremiah, Ch. 49, verses 38 and 39, tells us that in the latter day > God would set his throne again in Elam. Daniel also prophecies > Elam as the place of fulfillment, and Hosea proclaims that in the > day that Valley of Achor will be a door of hope to the people; the > valley in which Bahá’u’lláh was exiled. Sharon and Mt. Carmel > are also places of His exile, and of these Isaiah in the 35th chapter > says, “The wilderness … shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice > even with joy and singing; the glory of Lebanon shall be given > unto it; the excellency of Carmel and Sharon, they shall see the > glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God.” > I want to leave you with the final and most joyous promise of > all the holy scriptures; the last of John’s Revelation: “And I saw a > new heaven and a new earth. I John saw the holy city, the new > Jerusalem coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a > bride adorned for her husband. … And God shall wipe away all > tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither > sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the > former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne > saith: ‘Behold, I make all things new.’” Can there be any clearer > prophecy of the passing of injustice and mass poverty? > > Yet even this age of peace and plenty, ushered in by the Glory > of God, does not mark a final end of revelation on this planet. > “Know of a certainty,” writes Bahá’u’lláh, “that in every dispensa- > tion, the light of Divine Revelation has been vouchsafed to men > in direct proportion of their spiritual capacity. … The rise and > setting of the Sun of Truth will indefinitely continue.” > So a new Testament opens, and all previous ones become the > old. The covenant of God with man is renewed, and a new cycle > of human power begins. The prophets of old have sung of this > day, and ours is the high adventure of possession. Bahá’u’lláh has > said: “Verily thou wilt see the earth even as a most glorious para- > dise.” > > * * * > The uses of prayer > Down the corridor of time humanity has always been known to > pray in one way or another—always to something higher than > themselves. Pascal the philosopher has said: “Thou wouldst not > seek me, hadst thou not already found me.” A great Rabbi, visit- > ing a famous cathedral, looked with admiration upon the beauty > of the place, but as he walked slowly along the aisle toward the > chancel, his eye fell upon the crucifix, before which a lone figure > prayed. “What idolatry!” he thought. When he had come close, > he found that the kneeling figure was a boy, a crippled lad— > whose face, tear-stained, had become transfigured in its pain. The > great Rabbi thought then: “How small I am, and how great is this > child who feels so deeply the healing Presence of my God.” Sud- > denly he knelt beside the little lad, lost in the union of a common > reverence; knowing that they worshipped One Source. > > Prayer is the birthright of every man, woman and child of the > new day. The masses, who are immersed in the business of keep- > ing body and soul together, must be liberated. Watching men fire > a ship for twelve hours a day, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, greatest of Bahá’í teach- > ers, said sadly: “These men do not have time to be spiritual.” > Prayer is a great necessity in the life of the world. Thomas Edison > said during his last illness: “I do not set myself up as an authority > on religion, but I do say this; that if the spiritual life of man does > not catch up to his material development the result will be a terrific > crash!” Bahá’u’lláh, founder of the Bahá’í Faith, said that in the > next century prayer would be united and effective, the very heart > of community life. It would change not only the individual but a > whole civilization. The trends of the twenty-first century will be > spiritual as definitely as the trends today are material. Steinmetz > tells us that beside the power of prayer when it is known, the > power of electricity will seem dwarfed. > Now how can you make prayer real amidst the clamor of your > world’s demands? First, prayer should become a habit. ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá said: “Be in a perennial state of prayer.” It is like saying: Be > in harmony with the Will of God all the time! Now the question > is; do you think it is really worth the struggle? No-one in this > radio audience this morning should feel justified in entering upon > such a difficult task unless and until he is assured that it could be > one of the most powerful factors for good in his life. Yet I am sure > that a few minutes a day can mean to you, joy, guidance, power, > peace, companionship! A child of my acquaintance was struck by > a truck and taken to a hospital with a concussion and a fractured > hip. She tossed feverishly a night and a half a day, until at two > o’clock she lay back in her pillows and was still. Her mother > thought she slept, but suddenly the child turned starry eyes to her > and said: “Mother, why am I so happy?” It was some time before > the mother knew that friends, hearing of her distress, had sent > > the blessing of some of the simple Bahá’í prayers at that very > time. Prayer begets joy! > Miss Olive Jones tells of a child who had learned the science of > prayer. Her mother said: “Why do you pray for guidance? Do > you not have conscience?” The little girl thought a moment and > then replied: “Conscience tells us the difference between right > and wrong, but guidance tells which of the six right things to > do.” Prayer begets guidance. > Jesus walked with His disciples toward a high hill and listened > quietly as they disputed and complained among themselves. When > they came to the hill, he looked to the top of it, and then again at > them. “If ye had faith,” he said, “Ye could remove this moun- > tain.” Prayer begets power! > And peace! What is more difficult than this to attain today? > Wherever we look people are in trouble. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said: “Prayer > and supplication are the wings of spirit.” We could not walk above > the world any other way. Prayer begets peace. > There is an Arabic supplication that goes straight to my heart: > “Rabba Arani! I want to see my God.” Prayer gives us sharpened > perceptions and intuitive powers; a sense of Divine Companion- > ship. We walk with God; talk with God; seek His Will; trust His > Will; commune with His Spirit. Prayer begets companionship. > A few minutes a day can accomplish all this! But the great thing > to realize is that it is not fitting to wait for the occasional sorrow > to drive one to his knees. It is true that insanity, illness, and dis- > tress often disappear before quick and imperative prayer, but your > life may still be out of the orbit of the continuous flow of God’s > protection and love. You need to become God-conscious; any- > thing else is insecurity. Prayer is like food and drink, we cannot > be anything but emaciated if we take it only spasmodically. A > Bahá’í teacher recently told of her experience in a college town > where a number of young men attended lectures. After she had > > gone home she received a letter from one of them saying, “My > room-mate and I are trying to live up to the things you talked > about; that is, all except prayer. We want you to know, though, > that if we get into trouble, we’ll pray.” The Bahá’í1 penned a single > line from the bottom of her heart: “Dear friend, you are in trouble; > start praying.” Mrs. Lua Getsinger, one of America’s earliest > Bahá’ís, had a little experience during her visit at the home of > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá in Haifa, Palestine. She had been in a great hurry > that morning, and was scurrying to breakfast without having had > her usual morning prayer. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá met her in the hall and > looked at her with a penetrating glance. Then he said: “Lua, you > must never eat material food in the morning until you have had > spiritual food.” So we must come to love God enough to > wish to associate with him a great deal. > Of course there will be times when it is the counsel and guid- > ance of God in some specific problem rather than only a com- > munion that we seek. Three steps may be followed to achieve the > desired results. First, be quiet; meditate on the problem from all > angles, and turn to God with a sense of listening. If possible, use > one of the beautiful prayers of Bahá’u’lláh for guidance. The sec- > ond step is to take hold of a definite conclusion with the full help > of reason, facts, and, above all, the sense of being assisted by > God. Sometimes this step comes in a clear flash; sometimes not. > I have often risen from a prayer for guidance without a sense of > having achieved the answer, only to find that every door opened > for the right fulfillment. The third step is to proceed courageously, > knowing that it is answered. Banish all fear or anxiety and walk > > Dorothy herself. > > confidently; act as if the desired results have already been accom- > plished. If you fail to do this, your prayer is perhaps like a beauti- > ful child still-born, and therefore of no avail to this world. > If, in spite of technique, your prayers do not seem effective, try > to acquire the four attainments of which ‘Abdu’l-Bahá speaks, for > in these are found the spiritual qualities that are the true basis of > prayer. He said: “The worshipper must pray with a detached spirit, > concentrated attention, in unconditional surrender of the will to > God, and spiritual passion.” > If we listen to a soft violin and a hurdy gurdy begins to play in > the street below, we need to close the window. Sometimes one > has to close the window of the soul to the clamor of the world in > order to hear the soft strains of the desire of God. This is the > detached spirit. > Concentrated attention is closely akin to this. When ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá was in New York, he called to him Mr. M., a successful > businessman, saying: “If you will come to me at dawn tomorrow > I will teach you to pray.” Now Mr. M. held prayer to be little > more than a worthy sentiment. Yet he was delighted with such an > opportunity, and even greeted it with exultant enthusiasm. He > arose at four and crossed the city, arriving at six. He found ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá already at prayer, kneeling at the side of his bed. Mr. M. > followed suit, taking care to place himself directly across. Seeing > that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was quite lost in his own reverie, Mr. M. began > to pray silently for his friends, his family and finally for the crowned > heads of Europe. No word was uttered by the quiet man before him. > He went over all the prayers he knew, then, and repeated > them twice, three times—still no sound broke the expectant hush. > Mr. M. rubbed one knee and thought about his back. He began > again, hearing as he did so, the birds singing outside the window. > An hour passed, and finally two. Mr. M. was quite numb now. > His eye, roving along the wall, caught sight of a large crack; then > > traveled on until it rested once more upon the still figure across > the bed. The ecstasy he saw arrested him, and suddenly he wanted > to pray like that. Even his immediate surroundings were forgot- > ten. Closing his eyes again, he set the world firmly aside, and, > amazingly, he became cleansed by humility and lifted by a sense > of peace. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had at last taught him to pray! In a trice > the teacher had arisen and was standing near him. “When you > pray,” he was saying, “you must not think of the birds outside of > the window, nor of the cracks in the wall!” He became entirely > serious, then, and added: “When you pray, know first that you > are standing in the Presence of the Almighty.” > The surrender of the will depends upon perfect trust in the > rightness of the Father to know. Mr. Fosdick describes some prayer > as being guilty of making a God a Cosmic Bell-Boy! How few > have the simple faith of the child who prayed for a horse without > apparently success until one day a friend said: “Mary, God did > not answer your prayer, did He?” Mary said quickly: “Yes, He > did! He said ‘No.’” > But if surrender is difficult, spiritual passion is perhaps even > more so. Spiritual passion is devotion to God; pure, selfless dedi- > cation. Sometimes we first touch it through suffering. Personal > hurt may be at the near end of the journey; spiritual passion at > the far end. Verily I believe that God will choose to lift into His > very presence the least peasant who hurls himself upon the breast > of God in fiery supplication in preference to the kings and learned > men of the whole earth, if to the latter the smug complacency of > a dulled age is sufficient. In the book of Revelations it is said, “So > because thou art luke-warm and neither hot nor cold, I will spew > thee out of my mouth!” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said: “In the highest prayer, > you pray only for the love of God.” > > * * * > > The spiritual life of man > One day a businessman said to me, “Secretly I wonder about > myself. I arise in the morning, eat, keep shop, sleep and then do it > all over again. I begin to feel like that person who said, ‘Man > matters only to himself; he is fighting a lone fight against a vast > indifference.’” > What a strange creature man is! He stands at the very apex of > creation and forgets his own preciousness in the sight of God. > Sometimes we go into dark closets of our own building and stuff > up the keyhole and the cracks. Then we say, “The sun is not shin- > ing for me.” We build the closets of our own odd variety of mate- > rials—envy, fear, selfishness, sadness and sometimes just a sense > of frustration and futility. And there we stay, mainly because we > have not thought out our position there and so we are not doing > anything about it. Often we hear the sighs of others in nearby > closets and we wish we could liberate them, but not having freed > ourselves, we find it pretty hard to tell them what to do. > Now the first thing that is probably needed is a larger perspec- > tive. I had the good fortune to have a remarkable grandmother. > How well I remember hearing her say, “If anything troubles you > very much now, look at it terms of five years from this time, or > twenty-five, or fifty, and if it still looms pretty large, measure it > in terms of eternity. Now that is my theme this morning—mea- > sure your life and everything in it in terms of eternity. Then look > back, if you will, and wonder what became of your darkest closet. > The great thing is to find for ourselves the purpose of being, > and to hold to that thru everything. Bahá’u’lláh said, “O God, I > testify that thou hast created me to know Thee and to adore Thee.” > There is God at the far end and here are we at the near end, on > this lonely little island, the earth, needing to discover in that brief > > flash, an enormous purpose like that! And it is brief! He also said, > “Count all the days of thy life as less than a fleeting instant.” > To know and adore God! Think of the things we deplore every > day that all the while may be really speeding us on our way! Take > the matter of trouble, for example. Bahá’u’lláh, in His tablet to > the Sháh of Persia, wrote, “I am not impatient of calamity in His > way nor of affliction for His love. God hath made afflictions as a > morning shower to His green pasture, and as a wick for His lamp, > whereby earth and Heaven are illumined.” > A morning shower! Often trouble opens the heart to God. And > after that it becomes purified, little by little, so that the self or > Satan of the heart dies out and makes room for the Divine Be- > loved. I came just this morning upon these words, “Purify thy > heart for My descent. The Friend and stranger cannot dwell here > together.” Trouble is often just the testing ground of the soul. > There is a real freedom in it. As a Kreisler after difficult years of > drudgery is free in the work of music, as an athlete after long > discipline of the body has supremacy in the world of sports, so > does your soul win a sovereignty thru a life that challenges it to be > at grips with the world. Tests often come again and again to teach > a single lesson, until at last there is a victory and a former weak- > ness is replaced by strength. Every time this happens, it marks a > milestone on the path to God. > The picture of our whole destiny comes more clear when we > realize that as ‘Abdu’l-Bahá once said, “This is only a matrix world.” > Measuring life in terms of the eternal is easy for one who knows > this. As unborn babes, thru the long months preceding their birth, > form organs and features for their life here, so do we build our > spiritual statures toward that new starting point that is called death. > “I have made death glad tidings for thee,” wrote Bahá’u’lláh. Is it > anything more than dread of the unknown that makes us fear the > angel of death? To the Museum of National History of New York > > came ‘Abdu’l-Bahá one day, accompanied by a number of the > early Bahá’ís of that city. Near one of the entrances of the great > building, he seated himself and waited. A moment or two passed > and there came to the door the caretaker, a kindly old Jew who > wore a skull-cap and looked with beaming countenance upon > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. To one of the friends he whispered, “Who is he? > He looks like one of the old prophets.” The friend answered, “Go > and speak to him.” Very shyly, the kindly old man went to meet > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, saying, “Won’t you come into the museum and see > my fossils and stuffed birds?” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá smiled and replied, “I > did not come to see dead things, but to tell you about a place > where everything is alive.” A shadow passed the face of the care- > taker. “I know,” he said, “you are speaking of death. I am afraid to > die. All this I know; I am used to it.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said, “I have > come to tell you that when you die you just go to a room upstairs. > This is still here; you are just above it.” The old man watched his > face keenly as he spoke and gradually a most surprising thing > happened. He began to take hold of the thing that he heard, and > his eyes began to shine happily. “I understand,” he said, “I under- > stand.” The friends left him there looking after them with a great > light in his countenance. One of them came back a few days later > to find him, but he had gone to the room upstairs. We have to > sense the joys and adventures of that room upstairs, every one of > us, before it can seem a reality. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes, “The myster- > ies of which man is heedless in the earthly world, these will he > discover in the heavenly world, and there will he be informed of > the secrets of truth; how much more will he recognize or discover > persons with whom he had associated. Undoubtedly the holy souls > who find a pure eye and are favored with insight will in the king- > dom of lights be acquainted with all mysteries, and will seek the > bounty of witnessing the reality of every great soul. They will > even manifestly behold the beauty of God in that world. Like- > > wise will they find all the friends of God, both those of the former > and recent times, in the heavenly assemblage. The difference and > distinction between men will naturally become realized. But this > distinction is not in respect to place, for the Kingdom of God is > sanctified from time and place: it is another world and another > universe. A love that one may have entertained for anyone will > not be forgotten in the worlds of the kingdom, nor wilt thou > forget there the life that thou hadst in the material world.” > One day seated with a number of friends who had come thou- > sands of miles to see him, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá intimated that he too > would soon be going into that room upstairs. He said, “We have > sat together many times before and we shall sit together many > times again. We shall recount the things that befell us in the path > of God, the Most High.” Then he smiled and added, “And we > shall laugh together very much!” Again a little party of pilgrims > who had come to him in Haifa during those last days of his im- > prisonment, caught a fresh glimpse of the joy of our eternal pan- > orama when he said, “In every world of God a new Lord’s supper > is ordained.” New Knowledge!—New realization! New bounty! > How could we dread that? > In the book Gleanings from the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh we find > this remarkable statement: “Know then of a truth that if the soul > of man hath walked in the ways of God, it will assuredly return > and be gathered to the glory of the Beloved. It shall attain a sta- > tion such as no pen can depict or tongue describe. The soul that > hath remained faithful to the Cause of God and stood > unwaveringly firm in His path, shall after his ascension, be pos- > sessed of such power that all the worlds which the Almighty hath > created can benefit thru him. Such a soul provideth, at the bid- > ding of the ideal King and divine educator, the pure leaven that > leaveneth the world of being and furnisheth the power through > which the arts and wonders of the world are made manifest. These > > souls that are the symbols of detachment are the leaven of the > world. Meditate on this and be of the thankful.” > Now by this we see that we are in training to become effective, > not just in this world but thru every world. This opens the door > of the highest adventure to us. Gone is the old idea of the harp > and the golden-paved street, and in its place is the idea of normal > continuation of whatever we have begun of the discovery of all > mysteries, of magnified powers of service extending to unnum- > bered worlds and of unimaginably glorious companionship. A > sense of great joy pervades the whole. A young mother came to > ‘Abdu’l-Bahá mourning the loss of a beautiful little daughter. He > said very gently, “Be happy, be happy. If you know the joy of a > little child or of any soul who goes out in light, you would not > have the will-power to remain here for twenty-four hours.” > But what has become of the old ideas? They are still true. As an > unborn child could not conceive of rivers and clouds and moun- > tains which are completely beyond its experience, so we cannot > think in terms of forms never experienced. In teaching us, God > has always had to use symbols, pictures with which we are famil- > iar; and we discover that that which we have customarily called > heaven or hell is really a state of being and exists here as well as > beyond. For example, the Eskimo believes in a hell. To him it is a > wandering ice-flow [sic], cold, desolate, forever cut off from lov- > ing companionship. This to the Eskimo is the greatest degree of > deprivation he knows. The Arab believes in hell, too. To him it is > boiling oil. This in his hot country is the greatest degree of depri- > vation that he knows. Christian scriptures depict a hell of fire and > brimstone. The fastidious ancient Greek believed in hell. To him > it was a place of refuse outside the city bountiful. And they all > speak truly. I have sometimes thought that it would be a very > good idea each morning to say: “Good morning, Mrs. Baker. Are > you living in heaven? Or have you fallen into desolate loneliness, > > cut off from God; or into the burning fire of hate, or into the > refuse heap of some carnal desire.” We who know and love the > Prophets of God have a short cut to heaven thru the harp of God’s > word and by traveling the streets of His command. It is a strange > thing how often we try to escape law, and yet we need a great > friendliness with law. Moses said, “Ye shall diligently keep the > commandments of the Lord, your God.” Jesus said, “If you love > me, keep my commandments.” Bahá’u’lláh said, “My command- > ments are the lamps of my loving kindness unto thee.” A young > man said to Harry Emerson Fosdick, “I have never been so happy > in my life as now that I am rid of God.” Mr. Fosdick replies, “You > may be rid of God, but you are not rid of a moral universe; you > are not rid of a universe that is run by law.” The young man > succeeded only in putting himself out of balance with that law > and out of harmony with life. Bahá’u’lláh writes, “To be in heaven > is to live and move in the atmosphere of God’s holy will.” This is > the only harmony. The streets of his command run straight to his > door. We collect our wealth as we go. Bahá’u’lláh further writes, > “The good deeds of the friends are written in the guarded tablet > of God and constitute their true wealth. Come not into My court > with empty hands.” Sacrifice in the service of God and man is so > great a wealth that the pure souls finally see in it only joy. Steven, > spat upon, lied about, and stoned, cried, “Lo, I see the heavens > opened.” A missionary among lepers, who contracted the dread > disease, said, “This hut is radiant with His presence, and here I > live in heaven.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote for one who grieved for him, > “Though I stay in prison it is just like paradise; afflictions and > trials in the path of God give me joy; troubles rest me, death is > life, to be despised is honor. … Seek, O servant of God, this life > until you remain in limitless joy.” > So there is God at the far end, and He is here at the near end, > and we come to see that all life, both here and hereafter, is the > > expression of one thing and cannot be divided. Throughout His > kingdoms, one increasing purpose runs: know God, and love Him. > The habit of prayer > Is prayer a habit with you—not a formal habit or repeating empty > words but a deep, energizing force in your daily life? Of course > you may not be able to answer this off hand, because it is possible > that you actually pray many times without knowing it. I know a > fine young man who said to a Bahá’í teacher, “I never pray.” The > Bahá’í looked intently into his clear young eyes. “If you will tell > me what you do, I will tell you how you pray.” Indeed, Bahá’u’- > lláh teaches that work done in the spirit of service is worship, and > that every thought, word and deed devoted to the glory of God > and the good of one’s fellows is prayer in the truest sense. > In the little volume “Doa—The Call to Prayer” we find listed > nine attitudes that indicate our common urges to prayer. Perhaps > you have been conscious of all of them; perhaps of a few. > One is SUPPLICATION. This is humble, earnest entreaty, with a > sense of dependence on what is greater than ourselves. We re- > member the words of Paul, “God is an ever-present source of > help in time of trouble.” “The heart of man is like a mirror which > is covered with dust, and to cleanse it one must continually pray > to God that it may become clean.” The act of supplication is the > polish which cleanses the mirror and enables the soul to know > and adore God. > And there is COMPUNCTION. This is an uneasiness of mind aris- > ing from wrong-doing. It is the sting of conscious, or a sense of > remorsefulness. Did you ever have the feeling of unworthiness > that we find in one of the Psalms: “Feed me, O Lord, with the > > bread of tears, and give me plenteousness of tears to drink.” If you > did, you were being compelled to prayer by compunction. > The third is ASPIRATION. This is the longing sometimes unex- > pressed for what is above one’s present attainment, for what is > pure, noble and spiritual. Alger says, “It is not aspiration but > ambition that is the mother of misery in man.”* Ambition may be > purely personal but aspiration is a selfless longing. > INTERCESSION is a form of prayer too. It is entreaty on behalf of > others. How often do you pray for the souls, the minds, even the > bodies of those you love? Unfortunately, so materialistic has the > world become in recent centuries that the very possibility of spiri- > tual healing has to a large extent been lost sight of. Some are > endowed with exceptional talent for healing, and such talent > should be recognized, trained and educated, like other gifts. The > physical and spiritual laws are both important to know and use, > for the physicians of the new age. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wrote a tablet in > which he said: “The physician who has drunk from the Wine of > My Love, his visit is healing, and his breath is mercy and hope. > … He who is filled with the LOVE of God, and forgets all things, > the Holy Spirit will be heard from his lips and the spirit of life > will fill his heart …. Words will issue from his lips in strands of > pearls and all sickness and disease will be healed.” > The community at large can help also. Everyone is affected by > his social atmosphere, by faith or materialism, by virtue or vice, > by cheerfulness or depression. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá once said that to be > in the presence of some was to be consumed by hot desert winds; > to be in the presence of others was to be refreshed by the cool > breezes of the oasis. So even though you are not actively in prayer, > you can be a willing channel for the Holy Spirit first by banishing > fear, suspicion, jealousy, criticalness, and then by practicing ap- > preciation. In this way you can actually help to heal. > And in using this prayer, remember those dear ones who have > > * > William Rounseville Alger, The solitudes of nature and man, p. 120. > > gone into the Worlds of Light. Bahá’u’lláh has suggested many > beautiful prayers for them. Their worlds are progressive and un- > ending, and are in no wise separated from yours. If prayer is > effective here, then it is effective in every world of God. > And in your prayer for intercession, don’t forget the ills of the > world. Never in the history has there been such a need of the > realization of a New World Order on just and God-like thinking. > When you pray for this, you pray for millions of bodies that are > in danger of war and pestilence; for millions of souls robbed of > loving homes and kindred, shot thru and thru with worse than > lead; the spirit of hate. > And now another form of prayer: GRATITUDE. Many of you, I > know, have felt the urge to thank the great Divine Being for fa- > vors and bounties received. Do you remember the words of David, > “O give thanks unto the Lord for He is good and His mercy > endureth forever.” Bahá’u’lláh likewise says, “Praise be to thee, O > Desire of the world! Praise be to Thee, O Beloved of the hearts of > the yearning.” > Some attain prayer in the art of simple MEDITATION. ‘Abdu’l- > Bahá has declared that it is an axiomatic fact that while you medi- > tate you are speaking to your spirit and your spirit answers; the > light breaks forth and reality is revealed. A business magnate once > said that to a brief daily period of meditation on his affairs, he > owed the bulk of his success. For 15 minutes at the beginning of > each day he maintained an unbroken stillness during which he > thought thru the day’s program. Now consider the effect of a > whole world taught this art of concentration and using it habitu- > ally for spiritual betterment. How quickly the world could put > into practice the magnificent teachings of peace and love brought > by the Holy Prophets and emphasized today in the teachings of > Bahá’u’lláh. Why not make this one of your daily habits? > Try it, putting the harmony that such a habit could bring, into > > our daily lives. One who has formed such a habit said to me re- > cently, “When I forget to pray and meditate, my day is like dark- > ness compared to sunlight.” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá writes, “Thru the fac- > ulty of meditation, man attains to eternal life. Thru it he receives > the breath of the Holy Spirit—in that condition he is immersed > in the ocean of spiritual life and can unfold the secret of things in > themselves.” We live in a swirl of feverish activity. There is no one > listening who does not need to learn the art of occasional listen- > ing stillness. “Be still and know that I am God.” > And now OBLIGATION is mentioned. Do you remember how > the people of olden times laid lambs on the alter and gave praise > to God? First we had the burnt offerings of many kinds of animal > and human flesh; then fruits and grains were offered with prayers. > Later sweet smelling incense was used, and now the more ad- > vanced souls have learned to sacrifice themselves for the love of > God. How often have you prayed this way. > The urge of ADORATION is a joyful spontaneous uplift of praise; > it is an affirmation; it affirms the glory and majesty and all-power > of God. The heart that learns to pray this selfless way purely for > the love of God becomes lost in the spirit and is led to the last > type or urge to prayer. > COMMUNION. This is the spirit’s conversation with God and > thru it perfect guidance may be obtained. Bahá’u’lláh says: “My > love is in thee. Seek and thou will find me near. I have placed > within thee a spirit from Me that thou mayest be My lover.” Now > prayer becomes the practice of the presence of God, and a very > direct and earnest prayer it must be indeed. Thru such commun- > ion, every soul, rich or poor, black or white, native or foreign- > born, becomes a glowing spirit of light, radiating joy and love > and understanding wherever he goes. > Now, every one requires this guidance for a completely harmo- > nious life. Not only should prayer become a firm habit, as con- > > stant as our eating and drinking, but such faith should motivate > it that guidance is at all times assured. Shoghi Effendi, the Guard- > ian of the Cause of Bahá’u’lláh, suggested five steps to be used by > one who had a problem to be solved by prayer. > First step: Pray and meditate about the problem. Use the prayers > of the great Prophets if you can, as they have the greatest power. > Learn to remain in the silence of contemplation during which the > Will of God becomes you complete desire. > Second step: Arrive at a declaration and hold to this. This deci- > sion is usually born in a flash during the contemplation, or it > grows upon one with a sense of peace as he proceeds along his > way. > Third step: When the decision becomes clear, have determina- > tion to carry it out. > Fourth step: Have faith and confidence that the power for spiri- > tual accomplishment will flow thru you, the right way will ap- > pear, the door will open, the right though will be given to you. > Then take immediately the— > Fifth step, which is to arise and act as the prayer had already > been answered. Act with tireless, ceaseless energy. As you act, > you yourself will become as a magnet which will attract more > power to your being until you become an unobstructed channel > for the divine Power to flow through you. Every prayer that is > born without faith is like a stillborn child. Learn to fill your prayer > with the lifeblood and spirit of faith. May I leave you with one > last word; a word of warning. In all prayer make the Will of God > your aim. Never seek to impose your will upon Him, but rather, > pray to know His for you. Make this a daily habit. > Lord, what a change within us one short hour > Spent in Thy presence will avail to make! > What heavenly burdens form our bosoms take > > What parched grounds refresh as with a shower. > We kneel, and all around us seems to lower; > We rise, and all, the distant and the near, > Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear. > We knell; how weak! We rise; how full of power! > Why wherefore should we do ourselves this wrong > Or others, that we are not always strong > That we are overborn with care > That we should ever weak or heartless be > Anxious, or troubled—when with us is prayer, > And joy and strength and courage are with Thee! > > Index of names > 'Abdu'l-Bahá, 5–7, 22–23, 36n., 37, 52–53, 101, 116, 139, 187, 236, 254–55, 257, > 391–93, 400–01, 420, 496, see plate 1 > Afnan, Ruhi, 189 > Afshar, Mr., 406 > Alexander, Agnes, Hand of the Cause of God, 483 > Ali-Kuli Khan, Mírzá, 97, 102 > Amatu'l-Bahá Rúhíyyih Khánum (Mary Maxwell), Hand of the Cause of God, 192 > and n., 258–59, 311–13, 342, 344–45, 355 > Andrews, Edna, 156, 249, 267–68 > Archambault, Helen, 238 > Astaire, Fred, 307 > Austin, Elsie, 155, 191–92, 417, 428, see plate 59 > > Backwell, Richard, 480 > Bahíyyih Khánum, The Greatest Holy Leaf, 173–74, 473 > Baker, Ann see Salafia > Baker, Annamarie Mattoon, 367–71, see plates 43, 49, 72 > Baker, Conrad, 63, 65, 69, 73ff., 83, 94, 104, 191, 454, see plates 14, 15, 22, 34 > Baker, Crystal (Shoaie), 374, 456, see plate 72 > Baker, Dwight, 248–49, 454 > Baker, Frank, 65ff., 99, 104–06, 107, 121, 125, 132–33, 147, 161–65, 180–81, 191– > 92, 198, 245–47, 270, 281, 285, 317, 335, 372, 418–421, 427, 439, 444–45, > 452–53, 471, 485–90, see plates 13, 15, 28, 31, 37, 50, 71 > Baker, Frank Mattoon, 368–69, 435, 456, see plate 72 > Baker, Mary Quentin, 67 > Baker, Robert, 374n. > Baker, Sara (Sally), 63–65, 67, 69, 73ff., 84, 94–95, 102–06, see plates 14, 15 > Baker, William King (Bill), 87, 135, 139–41, 191, 208, 243, 283, 317, 367–70, > 374n., 446, 454, 485–86, see plates 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 28, 34, 43, 49, 72 > Baker, Winifred Louise see Matthias > Bakhtiari, Isfandiar, 439 > Baldwin, Winifred, 41–43, see plate 11 > Balyuzi, Hasan, Hand of the Cause of God, 480 > Barnard, Mr. and Mrs., 110–11 > Beecher, Chauncey Gordon (David), 14, 38, 39, 49ff., 80,167, 171, see plates 9, 10, 17 > Beecher, Ellen Tuller ("Mother Beecher"), 2ff., 14ff., 35–37, 41, 79, 88, 97–98, 101, > 111, 119, 128ff., 139, 141–46, 147, 251, 275, 301, 488, 496, see plates 4, 17, > 18, 27 > Beecher, Henry, 3–4, 9ff., 27, 29–33, 70–72, see plates 17, 18, 20, 26 > Beecher, Luella Gorham, 3–4, 9ff., 156, 174, 191, 248, 373, 427, 435, 445, 471, > 489, 490, see plates 3, 9, 21, 71 > Beecher, Susie, 52, 167–68 > Bernstein, Lenore, 133, 283, 335, 337 > Bode, Edward and Mary, 309, 355 > Boman, Perin (Olyai), 439 > Boman, Shirin, 439, 462, 463, 466–67, see plate 67 > Braun, Eunice, 313n., 313–315 > Bullock, Matthew, 428, see plate 59 > Busey, Garreta, 171–72 > > Carver, George Washington, 234 > Caswell, Louise, 257–58, 334 > Chamberlin, Hattie, 302–03 > Cheney, Elisabeth, 259, 265–67, 288, 358, 395, 490–92, see plate 39 > Christian, Kenneth, 428, see plate 59 > Christian, Roberta, 257 > Collins, Amelia, Hand of the Cause of God, 287, 323, 389, see plates 41, 35, 36 > Collison, Rex and Mary, 97, 120 and n. > Corrodi, Henrietta, 120 > Courlaender, Trina, 321 > Cox, Alice, 380n., 380–81 > > Diehl, Allie, 298 > Dobbins, Nancy, 414 > Dreyfus, Hippolyte, 97 > Duff, Howard and Nellie, 291 > Dunn, Clara ("Mother Dunn"), Hand of the Cause of God, 482 > Dwelly, Amy Brady, 262–63 > > Edwards, Julius, 359 > Eggleston, Lou and Helen, 134 > Elliot, Belinda, 273n., 273–75, 415 > Escalante, David, 321 > Ewing, Mary Lou, 156, 159, 165, 168, 191, 221, 226ff., 241–42, 244, 269, see plate > > Faizi, Gloria, 476 > Fatheazam, Hushmand, 468 > Fitz-Henley, Hopeton, 474–75 > Fosdick, Harry Emerson, 142 > Fouts, Soo, 415 and n. > Furútan, 'Alí-Akbar, Hand of the Cause of God, 404–05, 407 and n., 421, 435, > 482, see plates 54, 57 > > Fuller, Robert E., 46 > > Getsinger, Lua, 257 > Giachery, Ugo, Hand of the Cause of God, 421n., 421–22, 486 > Gregory, Louis, Hand of the Cause of God, 186–88, 200, 231, 274–75, see plates > 36, 40 > Grossmann, Hermann, Hand of the Cause of God, 484 > > Hainsworth, Philip, 410n., 410–11 > Haney, Paul, Hand of the Cause of God, 304–07, 418–19, see plate 59 > Hawthorne, Ruth, 113 > Haydar-‘Alí, Ḥájí Mírzá, xxiii > Hofman, David, 432n., 432–33, 479–81 > Hofman, Marion (Holley), 278, 432n., 432–33, 477–81 > Holley, Horace, Hand of the Cause of God, 266, 286, 318, 378, 407, 439, see plates > 35, 36, 54, 59 > Honnold, Annamarie Kunz, 135, 182–83 > > Ioas, Farrukh, 279 > Ioas, Leroy, Hand of the Cause of God, 279, 379–80, 404, 413–414, see plates 35, > 36, 54 > Írání, M. B., 465 > > Jarrah, Salah, 482 > Jay, Harry, 157, 197, 375–376, see plate 37 > > Khadem, Dhikru'lláh, Hand of the Cause of God, 416, see plate 54 > Khadem, Javidukht, 416–17 > Kramer, Marie, 150 > Kunz, Anna, 135 > Kunz, Annamarie see Honnold > Kunz, Margaret see Ruhe > > Lamb, Artemus, 272n., 272 73, 302, 363 > Latimer, George, 286, see plate 35 > Lismore, Viva, 200 > Little, Hazel, 272 and n. > Lohse, Doris, 350 > > MacNutt, Howard, 139 > di Marco, Giovanni, 474 > Matthews, Loulie, 484 > Matthias, Dorothy (Dodie), 425, 430, 435, 456 > Matthias, Hubert, 342–45, 425 27, 430, 447, see plate 46, 47, 72 > Matthias, Louise Baker (Winifred Louise), 80ff., 84, 139–41, 148, 191, 211, 241, > 244, 245–47, 251, 258, 285–86, 288, 308, 317–20, 326, 328–30, 332, 335– > 37, 337–39, 340–43, 345, 425–27, 429–30, 453–54, 485, 486–89, see plates > 16, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 28, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47, 48, 60, 72 > > Mattoon, Annamarie see Baker > Mattoon, Florence see Zmeskal > Maxwell, Mary see Amatu'l-Bahá Rúhíyyih Khánum > Maxwell, May Bolles, 36 and n., 192n., 196–97, 332, 342, 344, 395, 476, 486 > Maxwell, William Sutherland, Hand of the Cause of God, 192n., 395 > Mayberry, Florence, 476–77 > McCandless, Emmalu, 362 and n. > McHenry, Elizabeth and John, 209–10 > McKay, Doris, 101, 112, 113, 115–17, 184, 204, 268, 281 > McLaren, Edith, 263n., 263–64 > Miessler, Edmund, 133–34, 144–46, 152–53, 288, 308–09, 331n., 330–35, 381– > 84, 445–46, 446–48, 471, 485–86, see plate 37 > Miessler, Elma, 308–09, 331n., 330–35, 381–84, 391–93, 446–48, 485–86 > Miessler, Muriel, 308–09, 331n., 330–35, 381–84, 391–93, 446–48, 485–86 > Moffett, Ruth, 112, 199 and n., 290 > Mori, Hazel, 280, 436–37, 465–66 > Muhájir, Rahmatu'lláh, Hand of the Cause of God, 463, 467n., 467–68 > > Nakhjavání, 'Alí, 407–08, 410–11 > Nehru, Jawaharlal, Prime Minister of India, 435 > Nichols, Valeria, 343, 385 > Nooreyazdan, Sheriyar, 440 > Nys, Lea, 350–51 > > Ober, Grace and Harlan, 101, 106, 143 > Olinga, Enoch, Hand of the Cause of God, xxiii > Oliver, Cora, 356, 368, 372 > Orbison, Virginia, 343, 350, see plates 41, 46 > Osborne, Alfred, 360 > Overstreet, Harry Allen, 286 > > Patterson, Elizabeth Heist, 97 > Pettibone, Harriet, 250–51, 261 and n. > Pinto, Charlotte Stirrat, 270 and n. > Pritchard, Gene, 250n., 250–51 > > Reinholtz, Al, 415–16 > Remey, Mason, 439 > Rice, Emma, 284 > Rice-Wray, Edris, 77–78, 204, 457 > Robarts, John, Hand of the Cause of God, 250, 311, 352, see plate 62 > Roosevelt, Franklin, President of the United States, 131 > Root, Martha, Hand of the Cause of God, 251–52, 439n., 439–42, > Rougeou, Dorothy Campbell, 270n., 270–72 > Ruhe, Margaret Kunz, 136, 195, 219, 242–44, 268–69 > > Sabri, Isobel, 278–80, 346–49, 472–73 > Sala, Emeric and Rosemary, 321, 325, 379, 475 > > Salafia, Ann Baker, 248, 454 > Sears, William, Hand of the Cause of God, 426 > Semple, Ian, 431 > Seto, Mamie, 428, see plate 59 > Shoghi Effendi, Guardian of the Bahá'í Faith, 23, 36n., 77, 117–19, 143–44, 151, > 154, 174 77, 178, 192–93, 205–06, 223 24, 226, 236, 258–59, 280, 287, > 288, 318, 323, 329–30, 338–40, 355, 372, 377–78, 382n., 382–83, 399– > 401, 411, 414, 421–22, 428, 444, 467, 471, 473, 482–84, 489–90 > Sholtis, Gwenne, 321, see plate 40 > Sluter, Gerard, 320 > Sohaili, Bahiya, 440 > Sohaili, Monira, 440ff. > Spahr, Floyd and Gertrude, 149–50, see plate 37 > Stone, Roan Orloff, 247–48 > Stronach, Yolanda, 326 > Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 407 > > Tasker, Lorna, 115–16 > Toner, Hammie, 46 > True, Corrine, Hand of the Cause of God, 303, 419–21 > True, Edna, 303n., 303–04, 377–79, see plates 41, 59 > > Vail, Albert, 114–15, 134, 152 > Vanderbilt, Bernice Nickerson, 46 > Vera, Manuel, 383 and n. > > Warner, Charlene, 150, 190, see plate 37 > Weeden, Gladys and Ben, 382 and n., 423 24, 457 > Wilson, Woodrow, President of the United States, 45 > Woolson, Gayle, 211, 323–24, 395–99, see plate 40 > > Yazdi, Marion, 276n., 276–77 > > Zmeskal, Florence (Mattoon) and Otto, 367–68 > > — *From Copper to Gold: The Life of Dorothy Baker (Used by permission of the curator)*