The Bogus Missionary Who Tried to Work Seattle's Christian Endeavorers
A smooth-talking stranger claimed Moody Institute credentials and offered to split the take from a revival. Seattle's Christian Endeavor officers checked the hotels—and caught him in a web of contradictions.
H. Everett Morton, or the individual who passes under that name, came to Seattle early in the week and represented himself as a graduate of a Chicago theological seminary and one of the 'fishers of men' from the Moody Training Institute. He was smooth and confident, and by consent of a little committee he was given a hearing before the Christian Endeavor society at a local church last Wednesday evening. There he told his experience and announced that he was here on his way to the East. The purport of his remarks, however, was 'What Christian Endeavor has done for Chicago.' As a talker, his five-minute address was favorably received.
The next day Morton approached the leading officers of the local union with suggestions about the best way to stir up the city. He proposed an entertainment at which he would be the central figure, and said he would be willing to divide the takings half and half, the other half to go into the missionary extension fund. He told how this had been done at other places, notably where he claimed to have received $21 as a result of his efforts for the good cause.
Naturally the officers asked for time before endorsing him. He had taken an unusual way of boldly addressing a meeting where he was a stranger, and although his appearance indicated that everything was right, they thought it best to be on the safe side. An inquiry into Morton's story at first suggested that he was of wealthy parents, well educated, a good talker, and above all had the interests of the Christian Endeavor movement at heart. But a close inquiry showed that Morton told conflicting stories. He claimed to have been registered at the Rainier-Grand, then said he had been stopping with two friends at another hotel. He said he did not stay there one night because his friends had left at 10 o'clock, and that he went to the Northern instead. Yet it was shown clearly that Morton had not stopped at either hotel and that no one had given him a room during the time in question.
Asked why he had not told people of his coming, he answered that he had come to the city on the invitation of a St. Louis acquaintance who had been there a few days before, and that of course he had not had time to let people know. He talked glibly and juggled figures as easily as a Populist. The committee said he had assured them the project was all right and the money would surely come. The only difficulty with his statements was that his figures were not exactly the same as those given to the Seattle public; they were off a thousand or two dollars.
These little inconsistencies proved the overthrow of the pseudo-missionary. A short investigation showed that he was simply trying to 'work' the good people of the Christian Endeavor movement. When Morton was asked for his credentials he declined to produce the papers, saying they were at the bottom of his trunk at the Rainier-Grand. 'But I can refer you to good people,' he said. 'That won't do,' was the reply. An arrangement was made for Morton to meet one of the local officers, but he failed to keep it. The committee had been careful not to let him get away with an advertisement, and it is well that he did not.
“He talked glibly and juggled figures as easily as a Populist.”
In 1895, as now, a stranger with impressive credentials could talk his way into a community's trust—until someone checked the references. Seattle's Christian Endeavorers did the unglamorous work of verifying a story, a reminder that due diligence is often the only thing between a congregation and a con.
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