They say that in order to survive in Atlin, everyone needs two or possibly three jobs. This was certainly all too true for the first Rector of St. Martin’s Anglican Church, the Rev. Frederick L. Stephenson who came to Atlin in 1899 at the call of Bishop William Ridley of the Diocese of New Caledonia. Fortunately, for the communities of Atlin and Discovery, Fred Stephenson was both a clergyman and a carpenter. It is also rumoured that he was a talented boxer, poker player, and a great dog musher. In general F.L., as he was affectionately called by his friends, was a "good sport." On the frontier of north western Canada in 1899 that quality of character meant a great deal. Given his natural good humour, gregariousness, and non judgmental approach to people, FL quickly collected a flock of devoted church goers about him. If the concept of church had meaning to people’s lives in the Atlin gold fields at the close of the 19^th century, it came in the form of close Christian fellowship and the leadership of the Rev. Fred Stephenson. The lovely building that was to become St. Martins Church in 1900 was simply a physical expression of the faith and loyalty of that founding St. Martin’s congregation.

While St. Martin’s first rector, the Rev. Fred Stephenson was by no means a saint, he was a Godly man in every way. I suspect, therefore, had 1,550 years and 10,000 miles not separated Fred from Martin of Tours, they might have become good friends. St. Martin was also a fighter and a hardy soul. Martin was born in a place called Pannonia in Hungary in the year 315 A.D. to a senior Roman officer and his wife. In his youth he was conscripted into the Roman army and quickly moved up the ranks to become a decorated officer. His final military assignment was in the region of Gaul, now known as France. On a particularly cold night Martin came upon a beggar walking the same forest road, not dissimilar to the road that Fred Stephenson walked every Sunday between Atlin and his tent ministry to the people of Pine and Spruce Creeks. Martin stopped and offered the beggar half his cloak to protect him against the cold wind passing through the forest. The following night he had a dream in which Christ appeared wearing half his military cloak. Soon Martin realized that his mission was not in fighting but in serving God. He asked to be discharged from his military duties to serve the Lord. However, it was a period in which the barbarians were on the offensive and his commander refused to discharge him. His fellow officers heard of his request and accused him of cowardice. When Martin heard this he requested to be placed in the front ranks with only his bare hands as weapons. The first thing the advancing barbarians saw was the formidable Martin standing in front of his forces with only his bare hands as a weapon. They surrendered without a fight. Martin received his honourable discharge.

Like Fred Stephenson, Martin of Tours was to choose a wilderness location in which to serve the Lord, an isolated island off the coast of Italy. This may be the only instance where Fred Stephenson excelled St. Martin in his choice of greater hardship and discomfort. On the wilderness island, Martin became a hermit, but not for long. His reputation quickly spread throughout the Mediterranean. Soon he was joined by other Christian hermits. With this growing congregation Martin soon found that he couldn’t maintain a purely contemplative life. Thus, Martin soon found himself preaching, casting out devils, and healing the sick. Interestingly enough, Fred Stephenson also had healing skills and frequently found himself ministering to the medical needs of his flock. Martin of Tours rose in stature, and despite strong opposition from wealthy landowners and noblemen, who recoiled against his poverty and simplicity, he was appointed as the Bishop of Tours. Martin of Tours died in 397 and became the first saint of the church who did not suffer martyrdom.

Given the history of our patron saint, St. Martin was a splendid choice for the dedication of Atlin’s Anglican Church. Poverty, simplicity, physical strength, courage, hardiness of character, preference for wilderness living, and devotion to God are traits of character that St. Martin’s congregations have respected and admired throughout the past one hundred years.

Historians Christine Dickinson and our Diane Smith report that St. Martin’s Church was the first church built in the Atlin gold fields and the most northerly church in British Columbia. While the Rev, John Pringle of the Presbyterian Church arrived in Atlin a few months before Fred Stephenson, support for his efforts to establish a proper church received a much different response from the Presbyterian Board of Western Missions in Toronto. The response to Pringle’s request for financial assistance was met by the Superintendent’s reminder that, "It is your duty to get your church on a self-sustaining basis as soon as possible." While the local Presbyterian congregation was able to raise sufficient local funds to purchase the old Artic Brotherhood Hall on Second Avenue, the Rev John Pringle was never able to build the proper church he had dreamed of having. In 1901 John Pringle left Atlin for service to the community of Bonanza in the Yukon.

In contrast the Rev. Fred Stephenson and his congregation, received strong support from Bishop Ridley. Perhaps this is due to Ridley having visited Atlin, Discovery, and Surprise City, where he preached to the miners and their families, as well as in tents up and down the creeks. Ridley was impressed with the needs and the eagerness of the people. Besides offering Stephenson support from the diocese, Bishop Ridley wrote to England asking for help from the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge. At the same time the congregation and Fred Stephenson had their work cut out for them. In order to build St. Martin’s the major portion of funds would have to be raised locally and Fred would have to put his carpentry skills to use.

And then occurred a fortuitous miracle in the form of a mishap. In the Rev. Fred Stephenson own words, here is what happened.

"One week I was at my wits end where to hold the service the following Sunday. We had been using a large store built for general merchandise and the last Sunday we had a falling down of the congregation, which numerically would put to shame congregations in old established city churches. True our ecclesiastical furniture was very primitive. The notice boards which I placed in prominent parts of the town announcing time and place of service were made on tar-paper framed in edgings and artistically portrayed in red, blue and white chalks given to me by some carpenters. The seats were rough hewn 2 by 12’s placed on slabs sawn to convenient heights. At the last strains of the hymn before the sermon, played on an English Concertina by the way, were fading away, down flopped the front row of burly miners. There was an ominous crack and backwards they went. The next row followed suit till 5 or 6 seats had collapsed and a mass of struggling humanity, male and female, sought to regain their equalibrium. Did anybody laugh? Well it was church time and I was about to pour forth my eloquence for the edification of the faithful. I kept control of my visible faculties and I changed my text from what I had selected to Matthew VII – 27 and urged the building of a church. The request was heartily responded to."

Of course, Anglican congregations can be ornery when they want, so they rejected both Stephenson’s plea and this visible act of God. Instead, they voted to build the Rev. Stephenson a house so that he and his family, his wife and children having arrived in July, would not have to spend the coming winter in the eight by nine foot tent, which had been Stephenson’s home Stephenson during his first winter in Atlin. However, the Rev Fred Stephenson prevailed and a construction contract for the building of St. Martin’s Church was let to W.H.T. Olive for the sum of $1,160. The church was of frame construction, all the timbers and planks having been milled from local Atlin timber. To insure modest warmth in winter, the walls were stuffed with sawdust and a wood stove was added for heat. By November St. Martin’s opened its doors for services at the corner of Third and Trainer. Eleven months later, on October 20, 1901, St. Martin’s Church was consecrated by the Right Rev. W. Bompas, Bishop of Selkirk. Bishop Ridley had hoped to consecrate St. Martins but a serious fire at the Metlakatla Mission in August destroyed all his belongings and he was still in process of recovery when St. Martin’s consecration occurred. Bishop Bompas made his way from Dawson for the occasion. In 1902 the bell tower was added and a ninety kilogram bell was added.

Like most capital ventures of the magnitude of the building of St. Martin’s, prayer and clerical encouragement are only half the battle. There are usually some highly committed individuals behind the scene. In this instance a local bank manager, and the church warden, a man by the name of Leonard de Gex led the team of fund raisers. Fred Stephenson describes one of Leonard de Gex’s calls to a fellow bank manager.

"Do you want to get in on a real live proposition," asks de Gex of his fellow manager?

"Can you recommend it" responds the manager.

"Recommend it, well I should say so. It’s the nearest sure thing this side of the grave."

With that the warden handed the Bank Manager the building fund list of subscribers. As the Rev. Stephenson concludes, "the Bank Manager ponied up."

Characteristically Anglicans, Methodist, and Presbyterians are restrained fund raisers. I recall the son of one Methodist clergyman, for example, telling me that he accompanied his father, the Rev. Frank Stapleford, to Sunday afternoon tea at the homes of wealthy widows in Rosedale in Toronto. John Stapleford reported to me, many years later, that his father never raised the issue of money with the widows. He simply spoke to them about the charitable causes for which he worked, in this instance the Neighborhood Workers Association of Toronto and the Fred Victor Mission. Later the following week very generous cheques would arrive in the mail from the two or three widows they visited.

This delicate dance of fund raising etiquette would have been lost on Atlinites of the gold rush era. Leonard de Gex, as churchwarden, gladly accepted the duty of passing the collection plate. Stephenson reports that if he wasn’t satisfied with the generosity of certain members of St. Martin’s congregation he would simply stand there plate outthrust at the parishioner, and say in a booming voice so that all could hear, "Come on now, I can’t stand here all night, it’s your turn, cough!"

Not to be outdone by these marketing skills for God, St. Martin’s organist asked that the organ be placed behind the rood screen in such a way that he could look down upon the congregation through one of the arches. Some time later he asked Rev. Stephenson if he could play a medley of Christian music, while the collection was being taken up, instead of the usual offertory hymn. Stephenson agreed. Then one Sunday morning the music suddenly stopped in the middle of the offertory. The congregation looked up to see the organist staring down at a reluctant giver. The organist’s palms were outstretched in a pleading manner. Stephenson said, "I thought the organist had had a stroke." Finally the giver "dug down" and put a bill on the collection plate. With that the organ suddenly burst forth with triumphant sound.

When Stephenson had to, he could describe his ministry at St. Martin’s in language appropriate to the delicate sensitivities of the members of the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge in England. From one of his reports we read,

Thoughts inexpressible and gratitude have welled up in and overflowed my heart as I have beheld men kneeling devoutly at the celebration, clad in their rough mining attire, and receiving into hands scarred, cracked, and horny with hard work those sacred elements, but whose hearts and souls were soft and pliant with love to Him, whose commands they were fulfilling."

While the images of the founding of St. Martin’s remain vivid in our archives, the hundred years, which followed are no less important. Over and over the years, devoted parishioners have kept the faith alive in Atlin. St. Martin’s, by the grace of God, survived both major fires, the last occurring in 1914. This fire sadly destroyed the Presbyterian’s Arctic Brotherhood Hall and the Rev. Batty moved his congregation to St. Martin’s for Sunday evening services. Batty, however, left Atlin in September 1914 and the St. Andrews Presbyterian Church ceased operations.

St. Martin’s was, also, by no means safe from closure. Even during its early years when the population was large, the church operated without clergy. For example, from the time of Stephenson 965 km. Departure trek overland to Aldemere in the spring 1906, there was no clergy replacement for more than two years. In July 1908 the Rev. Marcus Jackson came to St. Martins and stayed for two years. He was followed by the Rev. E.P. Laycock, who ministered only six months. From 1910 to 1927 no Anglican minister resided in Atlin. Throughout this period St. Martins held weekly services, thanks to its devoted laity. On the north wall of St. Martin’s there is a plaque to the memory of Major Christopher William A. Nevile. It reads simply, "He loved this place."

It was Major Nevile and Capt. C.S. Hathorn who insured that St. Martin’s doors were not closed as a place of worship during the difficult years between 1910 and 1927. They were there during all the trials and tribulations of the Atlin community, including the terrible flu epidemic of 1919 and 1920. During that period nineteen citizens died, including fifteen members of the Tilingit community. Nevile performed double duty throughout much of this period as both a lay leader of St. Martin’s and Chairman of the Board of the Presbyterian Hospital of St. Andrews. Major Nevile, as his inscription reads, loved this place. Atlin, on the other hand, loved Major Nevile for his simple acts of Christian charity as well as fulfilling his civic obligations. It was not until Tom Kirkwood and, shortly thereafter, Vera arrived in Atlin, Tom, as a young miner in the 1940’s and Vera in 1950 as Atlin’s nurse, that St. Martins once again experienced such long-term devotion from its laity. I suspect our patron saint, Martin of Tours, is currently enjoying the company of Major Nevile and Tom Kirkwood in some quiet corner of heaven overlooking mountains and water. As the popular saying goes, "they’re his kind of guys;" honest, physically vigorous, of generous heart, and simple tastes.

St. Martin’s Anglican Church retained its vital presence in Atlin thanks to many other strong lay supporters and devoted clergy during its first one hundred years. Among those who made a very special contribution was one, Miss Jesse van Brunt, of Brooklyn New York. She was so impressed with the beauty of St. Martin’s that she returned home to New York and created the painted glass window over the alter. Its symbols are traditionally Anglican and northern. It was installed and dedicated in 1923 during one of Miss van Blunt’s summer stays in Atlin. Its unique colour and beauty are the first things, which catch the eye as you enter St. Martin’s. How strange to think that its peaceful natural symbols were created in studio in Brooklyn New York.

After seventeen years of maintaining St. Martins without regular clergy, a minister was assigned to the church in 1927, the high point of upper class tourism for Atlin. This was the year that the M.V. Tarahne was lengthened, the elegant Atlin Inn was at its finest, moonlight cruises graced the lake, and Mr. and Mrs. Nate Murphy from the O’Donnel purchased a new 1927 Ford. The Rev. Roy Manwaring was that clergyman. It is unclear as to why the Anglican Church chose that year to reassign a minister to St. Martins, but it may well have had to do with the presence of so many distinguished summer visitors. During the next sixteen years Roy Manwaring, EA McCarthy, Gordon Bratt and Richard Graham served as rectors. Graham departed in 1943, a few months after the death of Major Nevile. We are honoured today to have the Rev Graham’s grandson and great grandson with us. Young Brandon’s dad tells me that Brandon’s grandparents were married by Rev. Richard Graham in St. Martin’s in the early 1940’s. After Graham departed, Atlin’s population having decreased to fewer than one hundred citizens, St. Martin’s struggled on for seven more years. The church finally closed its doors in 1950.

I am reminded of a small stone church I came upon while walking near a village, just east of Portsmouth in rural England. While it has served as an active parish church from the early 13^th century until the present, there was a period of one hundred years, from approximately 1330 to 1430, when it remained closed. The reason for this closure, it seems, was that the entire parish had died during one of the episodes of the black plague, which swept across Europe and Britain during the late medieval period. The only time a church truly dies is when its people disappear. After all Christians are the body of Christ, not stone and timbers. As the Eucharist prayer states, "When two or three are gathered together in My name----," St. Martin’s now faced its most difficult challenge. Thankfully, Winnie Acheson, Mac White, and a few other loyal stalwarts were able to continue to gather. Donna Hall, Winnie’s niece, describes how Aunt Win and Mac would gather at the church on Sundays. They would pray together and read some scripture just to keep the spirit of St. Martin’s alive. They did this for a period of fourteen years from 1950 to 1964. Occasionally clergy were sent from Whitehorse for funerals and weddings and would take a service while in town. In addition two women missionaries of the Anglican Church of Canada made regular annual visits to Atlin, offering services and Sunday School programs. Finally in 1965 enough support was generated to have the Rev. Dave Kalles assigned to reopen St. Martin’s church. Soon after the loyal stalwarts who kept the faith alive were rejoined by Vera and Tom Kirkwood. Between 1964 and 1975 St. Martin’s was well served by the clergy, Dave Kalles having rebuilt the congregation during his tenure from 1965 to 1969. He was followed by the Rev. John Watts (1970 to 1973), and by the Rev. Dan Sargent (1974 to 1976). In 1975, however, St. Martin’s once again became a part-time ministry. The church’s lay leadership was fortunately now strong enough to hold regular Sunday services, with Vera Kirkwood having been appointed as a lay reader in 1975. She conducted morning prayer on alternate Sundays and during periods of extreme cold weather.

The strength of any church is its congregation, and St. Martins has been no exception. However, physical buildings inevitably deteriorate. In the case of St. Martins the church had stood for eighty-five years with little attention, save a new roof from time to time, and the odd paint job. Like most early northern buildings, St. Martins was built on wood supports and these supports had rotted out. As a result visitors in the early 80’s may have noted that the walls were beginning to lean outward from the foundation. Without major repairs there was a chance that the roof might simply collapse upon the congregation, some Sunday morning during the singing of a rousing hymn, such as, The Church is One Foundation. Something had to be done quickly to prevent St. Martin’s from tumbling down. Tom and friends, who were now experts at soliciting foundations and governments for donations after the completion of the Recreation Centre, prepared a proposal to Heritage Canada. Thanks to their writing skills, the prayers of the congregation, and divine intervention from St. Martin of Tours, the federal ministry suddenly experienced a vision and money for the work was forthcoming. St. Martins foundation robes were raised to ankle length, and rotten timbers, which had hugged the ground for too many decades, were stripped away and replaced. Then firm new concrete footings were put in place. To keep the walls from further drifting apart, Bob McKerihen and his able crew placed strong steel tie rods across the building at several critical points. While it is rumoured that someone suggested that flying buttresses should be added to St. Martins, a Gothic technique for holding walls upright, McKerihen kindly suggested that these structures might be a little out of keeping with the church’s frontier architecture.

While making reference to the physical structure of St. Martins, it is interesting to note the addition of a parish hall in 1987. For several years, Gerri Johnsen and Dorothy Odian faithfully conducted Sunday School classes in this building just behind St. Martins. The original Sunday School in 1910 was held in the church. Worn out by doing double, and often triple duty, for the Church, family, and vocation, Dorothy and Gerri retired the program in the early 90’s. The purpose of the Parish Hall, much to the pleasure and relief of Atlin families, was then shifted to that of Thrift Shop, open every Friday afternoon from 2:00 until 4:00. The only problem with the store is that it becomes difficult to tell Atlin children and teens apart. One day you see Sally or Jason walking into the video shop in their favourite attire, and a week later the same outfit, though admittedly a little baggy, is seen on Judy and Warren. This service closely resembles the parish tables set up outside churches in the 13^th and 14^th century. Sharing one’s cloak remains a popular tradition around St. Martin’s. As far as the Thrift Shop ladies are concerned, if the parish table was required 700 years ago, and is still relevant today, why break with tradition.

I began these reflections on St. Martin’s first hundred years with the comment that everyone in Atlin needs two or three jobs in order to survive. Certainly the Rev. Fred

Stephenson had no trouble finding three or four jobs when he arrived in Atlin in 1899, minister, carpenter, medical assistant, devoted and hard working father and husband, and helpful friend to the citizens of Atlin, Discovery, and the miners along the creeks. In the year 2000 St Martin’s tradition of dedicated laity and clergy continues. St Martins remains an active Anglican parish in the Diocese of the Yukon, our third diocesan affiliation during the past 100 years. Thanks to the concept of mutual ministry, introduced by Bishop Terry Buckle, under the devoted and loving support of our Deacon, Vera Kirkwood and Lay Minister Dorothy Odian, each member of the parish serves St. Martins and the parish as vigorously, and with the same commitment, as the parish’s founding pioneers. While church wardens Irene Coleman and George Holman are not quite as assertive as Leonard de Gex, they are equally effective in their contribution to the current maintenance of St Martin’s parish affairs. And Gerri Johnsen, while not normally facing us through the Gothic arch in the rood screen while playing the organ, has reintroduced the offertory hymn during the collection. I suspect, however, that she could be easily tempted to break the line of the offertory hymn to play a sudden organ fanfare, if she saw a $20 or $50 bill placed upon the collection plate. Finally, St. Martins has its secret friend, a lady who appears when no one is about and decorates the church with abundant beauty from her flower garden. Her quiet support and creative touch transform St Martins into a place of sacred beauty. Once every one hundred years we are able to thank you, Elizabeth Clarke. I understand that St Francis has expressed a little jealousy for your dedication to St. Martins.

Ambulance attendant, teen club leader, board member of the recreation center, park board director, home care volunteer, Thrift Store volunteer, visitors to the sick, Board of Trade Chair, musical instrument loans, curling club organizer, Anglican Church Women volunteers, landscape volunteer, social program researcher, horticultural volunteer, SPCA representative, Chair of the Big Water Society, scrubber of church floors, and cleaner of windows ----the list of jobs seems endless, and I haven’t even mentioned paid employment. It would appear that St Martin’s congregation must be as large as that of many Cathedrals, given the level of Christian charity reflected in these various volunteer assignments. A few faithful Anglicans gathered together couldn’t possibly do all of the above. And yet, by the grace of God, they do. In the tradition of Fred Stephenson, Captain Hathorn, Major Nevile, Winnie Acheson, Mac White, Tom Kirkwood, Vera Kirkwood, and the hundreds of other parishioners who were active members of the St. Martin’s family of Atlin, in the Dioceses of New Caledonia, Selkirk, and now the Yukon, during the past one hundred years, we extend to you our prayers of remembrance and appreciation. In our turn, we now serve our Lord in the midst of the grandeur of His snow capped mountains and mighty lakes. Like you, Major Nevile, we too love this place, a place in which God has asked us to serve His people and sing his praise.

St. Martin’s may have had its origins in a terrible crash in an Atlin general store in 1900. Since that incident, however, we have built firmly upon the rock of our Christian faith. We began our next hundred years earlier this morning (Sunday, August 6^th) with the baptism of Alexandra and Eva Regehr, followed by the celebration of the Eucharist by Bishop Terry Buckle. Both sacraments are symbols of rebirth and renewal. May God continue to smile upon us and bless all those who follow in our footsteps.