Steve P. Holcombe, the Converted Gambler Part 4

Tuesday, June 10--Another bright, clear, cold morning. We prospected some. Staked off a claim, more in fun than anything else, for we knew it was worth nothing. The locality is called Hardscrabble. And it was the right name. Our provisions had about given out, and it was a hard scrabble for us to get along. Concluded to return to Silver Cliff, go to work, get another grub stake, and take another fresh start. In the afternoon we rested. Read Romans xiv., xv. and xvi.

Wednesday, June 11.--Another beautiful Colorado morning. Read 1 Cor., i.

Started for Silver Cliff about 7:00 A. M. I carried White's pistol. On the way I killed two doves. Had them for dinner about 3:00 P. M. How sweet they did taste! Arrived at Silver Cliff about dark.

Thursday, June 12.--Concluded the best thing I could do was to get home as soon as possible. We sold our burro for $15.00, and with my part ($7.50) I started with a friend by the name of Hall for home. We got a cheap ride in a freight wagon from Silver Cliff to Pueblo. The country through which we pa.s.sed is the wildest and grandest I ever saw anywhere in my life. Hardscrabble canon is one of the most picturesque in the world, and then the beautiful mountain stream all the way, winding like a serpent down the valley. We crossed and re-crossed it several times.

That night we slept in the wagon. I never neglected praying any day while I was on the prospecting tour.

Friday, June 13.--Arrived at Pueblo about 2:00 P. M. Had a little money.

Got a bite to eat. At that time there was a railroad war. Men were killing each other for three dollars a day for corporations. The excitement about this, and the moving bodies of men all anxious for news, kept me from thinking of my condition till night. At night I went out to the commons, on the edge of the city, and, with other tramps, went to sleep on the cold ground.

Sat.u.r.day, June 14.--Had a little money. Some others of the tramps had a little. We pooled it, bought a little grub, and at 12:00 o'clock started on a tramp to Denver, a distance of about one hundred and twenty-five miles. I felt fresh and strong. We walked about six miles and slept on the ground at night.

Sunday, June 15.--Got up early. Had a little breakfast. Started about 6:00 A. M. Walked about three miles when, two of our party having such sore feet, we stopped. I had a voracious appet.i.te. Went to cooking. We had some canned tomatoes and canned syrup. I cooked some tomatoes and ate them. Then I went to a ranch, bought a nickel's worth of milk, fried some cakes, ate them with the syrup, drank the milk and was--sick. Did not feel strong again all the time. I had had no experience in tramping and tried to carry too much luggage. My feet got sore. Every day's tramp after that was a drag. One of the party left us and went on ahead by himself. We never saw him again. Another was so broken down we had to leave him. Hall and I went on sick and tired. About dark we went up to the house of a ranchman, and I told him my story. He took us in. I found out he was a professing Christian. I read Romans vii., and prayed with the family. His name is John Irvine, El Paso, Colorado.

Monday, June 16.--Left John Irvine's soon after breakfast. Walked five miles to a water-tank where the train had to stop for water. We waited till the train came along, and boarded her. The conductor did not see us till we had pa.s.sed Colorado Springs some distance. When he did see us, I made the appeal of my life on account of myself and my friend, whose feet were so sore he could, with difficulty, hobble along. I told the conductor my own condition, and of my anxiety to get home to a suffering family. When I saw he would not believe what I said, I offered him my pocket-knife, a very fine and costly one, to let us ride a short distance further, but he was like a stone. At the next stop he put us off without a cent of money or a bite to eat. We walked about six miles, lay down on the ground, with the sky for a covering, and slept like logs.

Tuesday, June 17.--We started about daybreak, without anything to eat.

Walked about eight miles to a little place called Sedalia. Saw a German boarding house. Sent Hall in to see if we could get anything to eat. Had no money, but told him to tell her I would give her a butcher-knife and a silver teaspoon, which I had brought from home, for something to eat.

She said to him so I could hear her: "Breakfast is over, but I will give you what I have." That was enough for me. In I went. Sat down to a real German lunch, and never did a breakfast taste sweeter to me than that.

G.o.d bless that good old German woman, not only for her good breakfast, but for her kind, motherly words to two strangers in want. It taught me a lesson which I have not forgotten yet, and I pray G.o.d I never may.

I left Sedalia feeling comfortable. Walked about four miles. Hall was about done. He could go no further. While we were sitting there, a Christian man by the name of Jennings came along, took pity on us, took us in his wagon, gave us something to eat and brought us to Denver. We arrived there about 6:00 P. M., without one cent, nothing to eat, no place to go. Slept that night in a stable-yard under Jennings' wagon.

Wednesday, June 18.--Got up next morning about daybreak. Had a little cold breakfast with Jennings. Knocked about town a little. Had a baker's blackberry pie and a cup of water for dinner.

Here the diary of the prospecting tour and the tramp to Denver ends.

Mr. Holcombe continued the next day to knock about town, not knowing what to do, when his old friend, Frank Jones, by nature one of the kindest-hearted men in the world, chanced to meet him and insisted on sharing his room with him. As his friend Jones, however, was himself broke, he could render Mr. Holcombe no further a.s.sistance and it was necessary for Mr. Holcombe to look about for something to do. He spent a week in this occupation, or want of occupation, and at the end of that time found employment in a brickyard. But the work was so hard, at the end of three weeks, he had to give it up. After some time what little money he had was expended and again he was dest.i.tute. And at one time he was so pressed that he went into a grocery store and offered his fine pocket-knife again for something to eat, but it was refused. Several times he pa.s.sed the Young Men's Christian a.s.sociation rooms. Each time he stopped, looked wistfully in and debated with himself whether they would probably believe him and help him if he ventured to go in and make his condition known. But he had never been used to asking favors, and he did not know how to approach Christian people, and so his heart failed him.

At that time and in that condition he was a.s.sailed by a sore temptation.

The devil, he says, suggested these thoughts to him: "This is a fine condition for Steve Holcombe to be in. Before you heard of G.o.d and this religion, you could stop at first-cla.s.s hotels, wear fine clothes, live like a gentleman, have a good home and all that money could buy for your family. Now, you say you are serving G.o.d. You say He is your father and that He owns everything in the world. Yet here you are without food and clothing and your family is at home in want. You have not enough to buy a meal for them or for yourself. Can you afford to trust and serve such a master as that?"

But he had not been serving G.o.d two years and more for naught. He had learned some things in that time. One of them was that trials and privations are a part of the Christian's heritage, and that if any man will live G.o.dly in this present world, he must expect to suffer. So his reply was ready and he met the temptation with decision. "Yea, and though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." And the sequel will show whether he made a mistake in trusting Him.

When he saw it was useless for him to remain longer away from home, he informed his friend, Mr. Jones, of his purpose to leave at once for Louisville. Mr. Jones got him money enough to buy a ticket to Kansas City, and there the great temperance lecturer, Francis Murphy, having found out his character and condition, gave him enough to get home.

Whether G.o.d can or not, at any rate He does not pour wisdom into a man as we pour water into a bottle. He does not so favor even His own children, if favor it could be called. But He gives a man opportunities of self-discipline, and if, aided by His divine help and grace, the man is willing to go through the process, he comes out with larger knowledge and better equipment for life and service and usefulness.

Without the experiences and lessons of this Colorado trip, Mr. Holcombe could not have been the efficient man he is to-day. That season of loneliness and self-searching and severe testing and humiliation was to him, though a painful, yet a helpful, and perhaps necessary, stage in his Christian life.

Indeed, all the trying experiences that had come to him since his conversion were helpful to him in one way or another. He needed to learn patience, he needed to learn economy, he needed to learn self-control.

The disposition to practice all these was given him at the time of his conversion, he needed now to be put to the test and to "learn obedience, practically, by the things which he suffered." Moreover, if he was to serve efficiently the poor and the tempted, he needed to become acquainted with their condition, their sorrows, their conflicts, by pa.s.sing through them himself.

The endurance of the evils which give occasion for the exercise of self-denial and for the acquisition of self-control is a far less evil than the want of self-denial and of self-control. So Mr. Holcombe was willing to suffer all these things rather than to decline them and be without the blessing which comes through them. This reflection justified his past sufferings and prepared him for any that might come in the future. He knew what he had been and he had learned that he was to be purified by fire. So he felt that if G.o.d would be patient with him, he would be patient with G.o.d's dealings. When he arrived at home he found his family in a very needy condition. Shortly after his departure for Colorado, his wife had to remove from the house she was occupying, because she could not pay the rent. She had never taken care of herself before or done any sort of work, for he always provided well for his family; but now she saw it was necessary for her to support the family.

Accordingly, she took in sewing, and in that way did support them till Mr. Holcombe's return. For six weeks after his return he could find nothing to do, and Mrs. Holcombe, brave, n.o.ble woman, continued to support the family with her needle. The time of her full deliverance was coming, but it was not yet. Nor did she know when it would come, or that it would ever come. But all the same she waited, and while she waited, she served, and with a glad heart, too, for had not her husband turned his face heavenward? And poverty seemed now a small thing.

Some time after Mr. Holcombe's return, his friend, Major Ed Hughes, was elected Chief of the Fire Department in Louisville, and he made application to him at once for a position. Major Hughes gave it to him unhesitatingly; but, as Mr. Holcombe was entirely without experience, it had to be a subordinate one, in which the salary was not large, being only a dollar and a half per day. It was impossible for him to support his family on so little, and though Mrs. Holcombe undertook to help him out by keeping boarders and doing all the work herself, they got behind all the time he was in the fire department. Finding that keeping boarders after Mrs. Holcombe's liberal fas.h.i.+on was entirely unprofitable, she gave that up and commenced taking in sewing again. She even learned to make coats for clothing stores in Louisville, and continued that for some time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENGINE HOUSE.]

Meanwhile, he was having a hard time in his subordinate position in the fire department. In the first place he was required to be at the engine-house night and day and Sundays, with the bare exception of a half hour or such a matter at meal time. For a man of his nature and habits this confinement was almost intolerable, and would have been quite so, if he had not been radically changed. In the second place he was subject to the orders of his superiors, though he had never been obliged to obey anybody, and as a matter of fact never had obeyed anybody since he was a mere infant. In the third place, notwithstanding his experience, his knowledge of the world and his capacity for higher work, he was required to do work which a well-trained idiot might have done just as well. One of his duties was to rub the engine and keep it polished. In order to clean some parts of it, he would have to lie down on the floor under it flat on his back; and in order to clean other more delicate parts of the machinery, he had to work in such places that he was always bruising and skinning his hands.

If repeated failure in business in Louisville was hard, if starving in Colorado was harder, the confinement and drudgery of his position at the engine-house were hardest. It would require some effort to think of a position more thoroughly disagreeable and trying than this one which Mr.

Holcombe filled to the satisfaction of his superiors for two mortal years. But he was learning some things he needed to know. He was pa.s.sing through a necessary apprentices.h.i.+p, though he did not know it, for something vastly higher. It perhaps should be added that Mr. Holcombe was practically isolated and alone at the engine-house, for none of the men there employed were congenial companions. However, to their credit, be it said, they showed great respect for him and for his Christian profession; they quit gambling, they refrained from using obscene or profane language in his presence, and, in general, were very kind to him.

Nothing could lessen Mr. Holcombe's sympathy for the outcast and the lost, and nothing destroy his zeal for their salvation. Though he was not allowed to leave his post even on Sunday, without hiring, at his own expense, a subst.i.tute, yet he frequently went to s.h.i.+ppingsport and other places to hold services among the poor "with the hope," as he says, "of helping and blessing them." He incurred the expense of a subst.i.tute that he might, once in awhile, go out bearing light and blessing to others, and he even took to his own home men who were trying to reform and live better lives. In view of the condition of his family, this was doubtless more than he ought to have done, and in after years he saw it was a mistake, but such was his insatiable longing to help and bless others, he let his zeal, perhaps, go beyond his prudence in that single particular. Most of us err very far on the other side. He did not hesitate to take to his home in some instances men who had gone in their dissipation to the extent of delirium tremens. One such case was that of a fine young fellow who belonged to an excellent family in Louisville, but who through drink had gone down, down, down, until he had struck bottom. During his drinking sprees he was the most forlorn and wretched looking man in Louisville. He was at this time, by Mr.

Holcombe's invitation, staying at his house. He ate there, he slept there; it was his home. But on one occasion, some time after midnight, he was attacked with a frightful spell of delirium tremens, or, as he said, the devils got after him. They told him, he said, that if he did not kill Mr. and Mrs. Holcombe and their baby, they would kill him. He heard them. They told him to go and get his razor, and he did it. Then they advanced on him and he backed from them, his razor in hand. As they advanced he retreated. He opened Mr. Holcombe's door (for he had hired a subst.i.tute and remained at home on the night in question in order to help his man through his spell). He backed to the bed in which Mr. and Mrs. Holcombe were sleeping. He struck the bed as he retreated from the devils, and Mrs. Holcombe awoke to find a demonized man standing over them with a drawn razor. She woke her husband. He jumped out of bed, caught the man's arm and took the razor from him. After that Mr.

Holcombe sat up with him the remainder of the night, and during most of the time the man was talking to imaginary devils. About daylight he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a brickbat out of the hearth and rushed toward the door saying there were three big men out there who had come to kill him. Mr.

Holcombe kept him with himself all next day. The next night while they were walking together in the open air, the man imagined that a woman whom he knew to be dead was choking him to death, and he was on the point of dying with suffocation when Mr. Holcombe called a physician to his aid.

Such was the kind of men Mr. Holcombe, even in those days of poverty and discouragement, was trying to help and rescue, and such were his efforts and trials and perils in rescuing them.

When Mr. Holcombe's pastor saw the grace of G.o.d that abounded in him, it was plain to him that he might, in future, when a suitable opening should come, make a very useful helper in the work of the church. In order, therefore, that Mr. Holcombe might be prepared for an enlarged sphere, if it should ever come, the pastor proposed to teach him in certain lines and did so, visiting him regularly at the engine house for that purpose. Mr. Holcombe studied very industriously, but it was with extreme difficulty that he could apply himself to books at that time.

Later, however, he overcame to a great extent this difficulty and has gotten now to be quite a student. He has attended also, for two years, with great profit, the lectures of Dr. Broadus in the Baptist Seminary in Louisville.

As has been said elsewhere, Mr. Holcombe remained in the fire department for two years, enduring the confinement, performing the drudgery and trying, as best he could, to help and bless others. Four years and more had now elapsed since his conversion. It was a long stretch and at times a heavy strain. But he endured it, and grew strong.

CHAPTER IV.

The time had now come for such an extraordinary career and such an extraordinary man to be recognized, and he was. He had made an impression and his work, humble as it was, had made an impression.

Moreover, Mr. Holcombe himself was now growing impatient to get into a position more favorable to his usefulness. It was not the selfish impatience that could not longer endure the humiliation and manifold disagreeablenesses of his position at the engine house. He had overcome all that. It was the n.o.ble impatience of love and zeal. Oh, how he did long to get into a place where he could help somebody and serve somebody and love somebody.

He had been very kindly treated by his old friends, the gamblers, during all this time; and though he was loath to allow it and at first declined it, yet fearing lest his refusal might alienate them, he had, more than once, accepted substantial help from one or two particular friends among them. Encouraged by a.s.surances from some of these and by the promise of all the help his pastor could possibly give him, financially and otherwise, he had made up his mind to rent a room in the central part of the city and to open a meeting for the outcast cla.s.ses. But on the very day when he was engaged in making these arrangements, his remarkable conversion and character and career were the subject of discussion at the Methodist Ministers' meeting. The result was that before the week had pa.s.sed, the Rev. Jas. C. Morris, pastor of the Walnut-street Methodist church, visited him at the engine-house and informed him that the Official Board of his church had authorized him to take measures for the establishment of a mission in the central part of the city and to employ Mr. Holcombe to take charge of it at an a.s.sured salary sufficient to meet the wants of his family. He at once accepted it as a call from G.o.d and gave up his position in the fire department, with no great degree of reluctance.

A vacant store in the Tyler Block, on Jefferson street between Third and Fourth, was offered free of rent. Regular noon-day meetings were held there in charge of Rev. Mr. Morris and Mr. Holcombe. It was a phenomenon. Within two blocks of the two faro banks which Steve Holcombe used to own and run, he was now every day at high noon declaring the Gospel of the grace of G.o.d. The people came to see and hear. They found it was no mushroom fanatic, but a man who for forty years was a leader in wickedness and for four years had been almost a pattern of righteousness. He spoke no hot words of excitement, but narrated facts with truth and soberness. Many of his old time friends, the gamblers, their timidity overcome by their curiosity, joined the crowd and heard the man. Poor drunkards, too far gone for timidity or curiosity, dragged themselves to the place where the famous gambler was telling about his conversion and his new life. And the power of G.o.d was present to heal, and great grace was upon them all. Among those who were saved at that time and place were Mr. Ben Harney, son of the distinguished editor of the old _Louisville Democrat_, who lives again in happiness and prosperity with his beloved family, and Mr. D. C. Chaudoin, at one time a Main-street merchant, who remained faithful until death.

When the supporters of the movement saw that it promised so much, they took steps at once to make larger provision for it and to secure its permanence. They sought a suitable house in a convenient place, and finally decided to take the room at No. 436 Jefferson street, between Fourth and Fifth streets, which had formerly been used as a gambling-house. Mr. Holcombe took possession of it, and found some of the gambling implements still there. A Board of Managers was elected, consisting of John L. Wheat, James G. Carter, P. H. Tapp, C. P. Atmore and George W. Wicks. Some friends from the Walnut-street church and others volunteered as singers; the room was supplied with hymn-books, an organ was secured, and the meetings commenced under the most promising circ.u.mstances. At first, meetings were held three nights in the week, and the attendance was large. Soon after, meetings were held every night and on Sundays. People of all cla.s.ses came. The services consisted of singing, prayers, reading of Scripture, a short, earnest address from Mr. Holcombe, and sometimes testimonies from the men who had been helped and saved--among whom were drunkards, gamblers, pick-pockets, thieves, burglars, tramps, men who had fallen from high positions in business and social circles, and in short, men of all cla.s.ses and kinds. Many of these gave unquestionable proofs of conversion, "of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen asleep," faithful unto death. Among those who were converted during that period were Robert Denny, Fred Ropke, Captain B. F. Davidson and Charles Wilson, whose testimonies will be found elsewhere in this book--besides others, some of whom are residents of Louisville and some of other places.

By request, the Rev. James C. Morris, D. D., now of Kansas City, Mo., has written a brief account of Mr. Holcombe's work from the beginning to the point which we have now reached in this narrative. And, as no part of it can well be omitted or changed for the better, it is here introduced entire, with a part of the genial letter which accompanied it:

"KANSAS CITY, MO., August 14, 1888.

"_My Dear Brother_:

"I inclose the notes for which you ask. You see they are in a crude state. But do not judge from that that I have no interest in the work you have in hand. My Father in heaven knows I keep it very near my heart. I felt it would be sufficient for me to furnish you the matter in a crude state, and let you work it into your plan rather than give it any literary shape myself.

Besides, I am pressed, pressed to my utmost, and I therefore send you this imperfect sketch with an apology. I am glad you are doing the work. It will surely do good. Brother Holcombe's work ought to be known. I wish in my heart of hearts that every city and town had such a man in it to work for G.o.d and souls.

Praying G.o.d to bless you and your work, I am,

"Yours affectionately,

"JAMES C. MORRIS."

"In the year 1881, while I was pastor of the Walnut-street Methodist church, in Louisville, Ky., I heard of Steve Holcombe, the converted gambler; of his remarkable career; of his remarkable conversion, and of his unusual devotion and zeal in the cause of religion. I heard also of his efforts in the line of Christian work and of his desire for better opportunities. I mentioned his case to the Official Board of the Walnut-street church, and suggested that he might be usefully employed by our churches in the city in doing missionary work. The matter was kindly received, but the suggestion took no practical shape. As I walked home from the meeting one of the stewards said to me: 'Why could not we, of the Walnut-street church, employ Brother Holcombe ourselves?' This question put me upon a course of thought about the work we might be able to do, and at the next meeting of the Board I made the suggestion that we organize some work of the kind and employ Brother Holcombe to take charge of it. They unanimously accepted the suggestion and directed me to investigate the case. If anything could be done, they were ready to enter upon the work and support it. I lost no time in seeing Brother Holcombe. He was then employed at the engine-house, on Portland avenue.

I found him rubbing the engine. It took but a moment to introduce myself, and in a short time we were up-stairs, alone, talking about religion and work for Christ. He told me how his heart was drawn out in solicitude for the cla.s.ses who never attended church--the gamblers, drunkards and the like. It was easy to see that the movement contemplated was of G.o.d. We talked and rejoiced together; we knelt down and prayed together for G.o.d's guidance in all our plans and undertakings. I then told him how I came to call on him, and laid before him our plan. His eyes filled with tears--tears of joy--at the thought of having an opportunity to do the work that was on his heart.