McPherson v. Voliva

Two potent soul-saving organizations came into conflict last week. Battling for souls on its home ground was Wilbur Glenn Voliva's Christian Catholic Apostolic Church of Zion City, Ill. The invading soul-hunter was Aimee Semple McPherson's Four-Square Church from California, represented by Sister Essie Locy, "Trumpeting Evangelist," who set up headquarters in Waukegan, North of Chicago and just south of Zion City.

To General Overseer Voliva, last week was a bad week for an invasion. Stanch fundamentalist, he believes the world "is square and flat like a sheet of paper," offers $1,000 to anyone who can disprove him. When the Graf Zeppelin started he predicted dire calamity awaited it. Informed that it had docked safely in Friedrichshafen, he sulked and refused to issue a statement. Smart Sister Locy was quick to take advantage of this. As a prime Voliva-baiting tactic she nightly challenged him to debate the earth's shape.

Other methods used by Sister Locy were generally a la McPherson. Arriving, she announced: "We have unfurled the Four-Square banner in Waukegan in answer to Mr. Voliva's rule of injustice and tyranny and to provide a church home for those who are disgusted with Voliva's tactics." Then hiring a theatre she held lusty revival meetings, playing hymns on her silver trumpet. As an additional lure she stated these meetings were exact duplicates of those Sister McPherson was holding in the Angelus Temple at Los Angeles. At the end of each session Sister Locy called upon the faithful to come forward, rejoiced as Zion-deserters increased.

Until last week, when Evangelist McPherson sought a California charter for a $1,500,000 hotel corporation, nothing she has attempted is so pretentious as the Apostolic Church of Zion. Bankrupt in 1907 on the death of First Prophet John Alexander Dowie (who stoutly insisted that the devil was a Methodist), Zion City has regained its solvency under rising real estate values and the shrewd rule of Overseer Voliva. Tall, stern-faced, he runs the city of 6,300 on a communal plan, renting the land under 1,100-year leases and controlling the few industries. A feature of his realm is his museum of the pomps and vanities, from wasp-waist corsets to collapsible lipsticks, which he had made his disciples discard. Theatre and cinema houses are banned in Zion. So is tobacco in all its forms. Opposed to all scientific attainment, Overseer Voliva nonetheless operates one of the most powerful broadcasting stations in the U. S. He explains: ''Our radio station is a matter between God and the Christian Catholic Apostolic Church. It was conceived and born in prayer." Despite its solvency, Zion City remains unattractive. The houses, except for Overseer Voliva's rococo mansion, are low and cheap. The streets are dusty, with incredibly deep thank-you-ma'ams. A monster billboard warns transients to obey the laws of Zion or begone.