Past Times

continued from page 4 the bricks and the white snow coated roofs and belfry.

I began to ask questions one winter. Some people said they had been inside and it was very spooky. But none of the adults I questioned seemed to know anything about it, except that it had been closed as long as they could remember. Surprisingly, no one seemed at all interested.

As spring approached and snow began to melt away, for reasons I still cannot explain, my curiosity became a growing compulsion to see the inside of this church. One of my new friends, David Hart, who had a growing reputation for mischievous adventures, told me he had been in the church and knew how to enter it.

We had no idea who the church belonged to but did know it was probably illegal to enter without some kind of permission. Nevertheless, David and I made a plan to meet one Saturday, pretending to go to the library. We stashed our bikes there and proceeded to walk around the church from behind, the north side.

There was heavy brush there, but it was too early for any leaves. We watched carefully for any sign of anyone taking notice, but there was very little activity. Passing in the field behind Deal’s hardware store, we made it into the heavy brush behind the church. The next threat to our adventure might have occurred from the house adjacent to the old church on its east side, the home of local teacher Esther Urie. She had a well-deserved reputation for strict obedience to all rules and regulations. If she caught us trespassing, she would have called the authorities without hesitation. We watched for any sign of her, but the house was quiet and her car was not visible in the back yard.

At this point, we made a quick dash to the shrubs and small trees growing along the north wall of the church, burrowing into them and waiting again for any sign of discovery. Assuring ourselves, I followed David along the wall to one of the two rear basement windows. He deftly opened one of the shutters and, with what looked like a practiced maneuver, pushed the window open. I would later learn this was a popular entry point for nefarious visitors and vandals for decades.

I followed David as he dropped to the ground inside. We both landed on a dirt floor and paused to let our eyes adjust. We were in!

Look for Part 2 of this article in next week’s Observer.