Lorenzo Dow

© Thomas Wilson Shawcross 26 June 2005

Lately, I have been pondering the communication system that led to so many American parents of the 19th century naming their sons in honor of the eccentric itinerant preacher, Lorenzo Dow.


Lorenzo Dow (1777-1834)

In what seems to me to be a related story, Jerry E. Strahan, manager of Lucky Dogs, Inc., writes of the underground communication system that he uses to communicate with the transients who work for him as hot dog vendors:

source: “Managing Ignatius,” pub. 1998, page 77
“ . . . Wealthy travelers stay at four-star accommodations. Businessmen frequent nationally known hotel and motel chains. Transients hit the road and spend the night at relief missions and flophouses, where they find cheap clean beds and free meals. Information travels with these drifters at the speed of a Greyhound bus or as fast as their thumbs can carry them . . . The transients’ communication system is not technologically advanced, but it is highly efficient. On several occasions people passing through New Orleans have dropped by the shop to say, “So-and-so asked me to tell you that he’ll be back in about six weeks, so save him a good corner.” Other times it was I who needed to pass on information to ex-vendors . . . I would simply ask the next vendor heading out of town to spread my message wherever he traveled. Usually within a couple of weeks I’d get a call: “I heard you wanted to talk to me.” The success rate of this system was incredible.”

So, was there a similar sort of underground communication system that existed in the American wilderness of the early 1800’s? Pickett, in his "History of Alabama," notes that Lorenzo Dow was the earliest Protestant preacher in that State:

"Down to this period-in 1803-no Protestant preacher had ever raised his voice to remind the Tombigbee and Tensaw settlers of their duty to the Most High. Hundreds, born and bred in the wilderness, and now adult men and women, had never seen a preacher. The mysterious and eccentric Lorenzo Dow one day suddenly appeared at the boat yard. He came from Georgia, across the Creek nation, encountering its dangers almost alone. He proclaimed the truths of the gospel here to a large audience, crossed over the Alabama and preached two sermons to the 'Bibgee settlers,' and went from thence to the Natchez settlements, where he also exhorted the people to turn from the error of their ways. He then visited the Cumberland region and Kentucky, and came back to the Tombibbee, filling his appointments to the very day. Again plunging into the Creek nation this holy man of God once more appeared among the people of Georgia."

It seems that Lorenzo Dow was widely regarded as an eccentric (putting it mildly), but he was also admired for his labors and his speaking ability. Perhaps if Johnny Appleseed had been as good a speaker as he was an eccentric, we would have had many thousands of American boys named Johnny Appleseed (Surname) as we had Lorenzo Dow (Surname).

Here are some Lorenzo Dow anecdotes that I gleaned from the world wide web:
source: http://www.curbstone.org/index.cfm?webpage=56

He was distinguished for his eccentricities and labors. He commenced preaching in the Methodist connection. He traveled through the United States, from New England to the extremities of the Union, at least from 15 to 20 times. Occasionally he went into Canada, and once to the West Indies. He also made three voyages to England and Ireland, where he drew crowds around him. 'It is thought, and not without reason, that during the 38 years of his public life, he must have traveled two hundred thousand miles.' He wrote a number of books, besides his 'Journal', or Life: the titles are usually as eccentric as their author. He died at Georgetown, (D.C.) Feb. 2nd, 1834.
For all his passion for objectivity, even historian Barber could not avoid commenting (twice) on his contemporary's spectacular eccentricity -- and for good reason. For if ever there was a man who feverishly rowed his boat through the waters of life with only one oar in the water, it was "Crazy Lorenzo" Dow.
Yet, there was another side to the Rev. Dow, one that comes through in Barber's brief biography, when he talks about the preacher's "labors" and the monumental mileage which Dow ran up in the cause of saving souls. There can be little question that along with his bizarre, legend-inspiring personality, the evangelist was totally committed to his mission, absolutely indefatigable in the pursuit of it and brilliantly ingenious in devising effective methods of bringing it to the fallen world through which he traveled. In truth, the Lorenzo Dow legends probably circulated as widely and as long as they did because people secretly admired the man more than they publicly ridiculed his behavior. If all this suggests that Lorenzo Dow was one of America's most talented and effective traveling salesmen, then so be it.
Dow apparently began his roving ministry while still in his teens, and made his first reputation as a charismatic, hell-fire-and-brimstone orator in areas near his birthplace, like the Hope Valley, in those early years of riding the circuit in eastern Connecticut, where he was one of the first evangelists. It is entirely possible that here he began developing some of the tricks of showmanship for which he became world-famous. Such was the one, for example, reported by the noted humorist Charles F. Browne, better-known as "Artemus Ward:" On one occasion he [Dow] took a text from Paul, 'I can do all things.' The preacher paused, took off his spectacles, laid them on the open Bible, and said, 'No, Paul, you are mistaken for once; I'll bet you five dollars you can't, and stake the money.' At the same time putting his hand into his pocket, he took out a five-dollar bill, laid it on the Bible, took up his spectacles again, and read, 'Through Jesus Christ our Lord,' 'Ah, Paul!' exclaimed Dow, snatching up the five-dollar bill, and returning it to his pocket, 'that's a very different matter; the bet's withdrawn.'
As odd in his appearance as he was in his behavior, Lorenzo was described by almost every eyewitness to his preaching as not only uncouth in his person, but endowed with a harsh, raspy voice and hard, jerky movements and gestures. Someone who saw him preach in Ridgefield when Dow was about thirty years old wrote, "He was thin and weather-beaten, and appeared haggard and ill-favored, partly on account of his reddish, dusty beard, some six inches long...." Despite his unattractive qualities, however, he had a remarkable, intuitive understanding of the tastes, prejudices and weaknesses of common, country people; he possessed an unerring knack for adapting his speaking style to such audiences.
A tall, bony stork of a man, not unlike Washington Irving's Ichabod Crane, he affected oddity in almost every aspect of his life. He liked to appear unexpectedly, surprising his audience into attention, and on a number of occasions, having made an appointment to preach a year in advance, he would suddenly materialize, like an apparition, at the very minute set. He often used scraps of Biblical text, extracting from them (as in the example of Paul, cited above) an unexpected meaning or startling point, by a play upon words. And if an audience seemed unable to follow the logic of an argument on some moral question, he was always able to pull an illustrative anecdote from his full memory-bag. He knew a story could be more effective than argument with unlettered people -- and he was a master storyteller.
Examples of his unorthodox actions can still be collected from Connecticut informants whose families have passed the stories along from one generation to the next for over a hundred years. One tells about the time he finished one of his four-hour-long performances, snapped his Bible shut with a bang and jumped out an open window directly into the saddle of his waiting horse, before galloping off down the road to his next engagement. A similar story is told about his departure from home before he left on one of his trips to England and Ireland. On the appointed day, Lorenzo was said to have suddenly stood up from the breakfast table, called to his wife, "I shall return in a year," and then taken his leave -- through the kitchen window. Even in private life, "Crazy Lorenzo" had to keep up his image!
There are so many characteristic legends about Lorenzo Dow that it is difficult to decide on where to begin -- and when to stop. Two stories, however, have been repeated so often, both orally and in print, that they could be called "classic" Dow-isms. They bear one more recitation here. Both have been collected from numerous locations throughout the preacher's enormous circuit (they are frequently localized) and indeed, became so well-known that they were often told about evangelists other than Dow, in complete innocence of the original source.
The first, generally called "How Lorenzo Dow Raised the Devil," went something like this: Once there was this crazy preacher named Lorenzo Dow who was traveling in the northern part of Vermont, when he got caught in a terrible snowstorm. He managed to make his way to the only light he could see. After repeated knocking at the door of the humble log house, a woman opened it. He asked if he could stay the night. She told Dow her husband was not home and she could not take in a stranger. But he pleaded with her and she reluctantly let him in. He immediately went to bed, without removing his clothing, in a corner of the room separated from the main living quarters only by a rude partition with many cracks in it.
After he had slept for just a short time, the preacher was awakened by the sounds of giggling and whispering from the main room. Peering through a crack in the partition, he saw that his hostess was entertaining a man not her husband! No sooner had he taken this in, when Dow heard a man's drunken voice shouting and cursing outside the front door, and demanding to be let in. Before admitting her husband (for it was he, returned unexpectedly), the wife motioned her lover to hide in the barrel of tow, a coarse flax ready for spinning, beside the fireplace. Once inside, the suspicious husband quickly sensed that his wife had not been alone, and demanded to know who else was in the house. When the quick-witted wife told him about the Rev. Dow, sleeping in the corner, he was not satisfied. After all, he was not so drunk that he would take his wife's word for the identity of the houseguest.
"Well, now," roared the husband, "I hear tell that parson Dow can raise the devil. I think I'd like to see him do it -- right here and now." Before the devil could shut up her boisterous husband, he had pulled the famous preacher from his bed, where he had pretended to be sound asleep. "Rev'rend," he bellowed, "I want you to raise the devil. I won't take 'no' for an answer." Seeing that he would have to perform, Lorenzo finally said, "Well, if you insist, I will do it, but when he comes, it will be in a flaming fire. You must open the door wide so he will have plenty of room." The husband opened the door. Then, taking a burning coal from the fire with the tongs, Dow dropped it into the tow cask. Instantly the oily contents burst into flame. Howling in pain from the fire which engulfed him, the flaming figure of the man hidden in the barrel leaped out onto the floor and, just as quickly, darted out the open door, trailing ashes and smoke. He ran down the snowy road as if pursued by demons. It is said that the sight of all this not only sobered the drunken husband immediately, but permanently cured his taste for booze. And that was certainly one of the Rev. Dow's major miracles!
Another story about the canny preacher has been told almost as often as the "raising-the-devil" yarn. Usually called "Lorenzo Dow Catches a Thief," the legend has been widely collected from oral tradition and has been printed and reprinted in newspapers and books, sometimes with varying details, but always with the same basic narrative line. One version goes this way: While passing through some dense woods one day, on his way to a scheduled revival meeting, Lorenzo Dow came on two men cutting wood. Mounting a large stump, he announced, "Crazy Dow will preach from this stump six months from today, at two o'clock P. M." Six months later, as a huge crowd awaited him at the appointed spot, Dow encountered a man in great distress on the way to the scene of his sermon. After inquiring what the matter was, the preacher learned that the unhappy man was a poor woodsman whose axe, his only means of making a living, had been stolen. Dow promised the wretched fellow that if he would attend the services scheduled to start shortly, he would locate the axe for him. Before Lorenzo continued on, he leaned down, picked up a stone and put it in his pocket.
In the midst of his powerful sermon, the fiery minister suddenly interrupted his flow of words, reached in his pocket and pulled out the rock. "Brothers and sisters," he rasped, "There is a man in this audience who has had his precious axe stolen. There is also one among you who stole it. I am going to rear back and throw this rock, here, right at the thief's head." So saying, he pretended to throw the stone with all his might. When only one man in the crowd ducked his head down, Dow went over to the fellow and said, "You have the man's axe." And so he had. The thief returned the axe to its owner and never again robbed anyone.