Practical Presbyterian

Not everyone that saith unto me, Lord, Lord shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.

--Matt. 7:21

This is the favorite text of the Rev. Stanley Frederick George, and some of the members of his First Presbyterian Church of San Bernardino, Calif, have wished on occasion that he didn't put quite so much emphasis on doing. But last week Pastor George was riding high: between him and the Kefauver committee, "San Berdoo's" bawdyhouses and poker parlors were facing an indeterminate period of hard times.

Pimps, Whores & Gamblers. Bulky, boyish-looking Stanley George, 43, has a predilection for doing what his parishioners fondly call "riding the high horse." A few months after his arrival in San Bernardino in 1945, his round denunciations of school-board bickering pushed through the first school-board reform in years. Later, when a Navy veteran ran amuck and raped a minor, George defended him in court as his pastor, though no local attorney would take the case for less than $5,000, and won him probation. When the city council seemed about to kill a federal housing scheme in deference to real-estate interests, Pastor George, a realtor's son himself, blew his Presbyterian top at a council session and forced them to back down.

But he has ridden his highest horse of all against the booming business of San Berdoo's red-light district. Once, George climbed into his pulpit to cite the names and records of the big shots in a gambling, bookmaking and prostitution enterprise that, according to a 1948-49 grand-jury report, grossed $2,000,000 a year in the county. Time after time he has jolted proper Presbyterians with his spade-calling sermons about pimps, whores and gamblers. Then, three weeks ago, he got the chance he had been waiting for.

An Army veteran who had dropped $557 in a poker parlor came to the pastor with his tale of woe. George followed his directions ("Turn right at the top of the stairs, seventh door along the corridor on the right") and barged into a thriving dive just above the town's Bible Book Store.

"Beliefs Imply Action." It took Pastor George two days to get the police to do anything about it. When a police captain was finally assigned to investigate the place, and found gambling going on, he promptly left to get help. But George blocked the exit with his 205-lb. frame and nobody even tried to escape. Next morning, the exploit made the headlines, and letters began to pour in supporting his one-man crusade. For a week he patrolled the gambling and red-light belts each night, but the underworld seemed to have gone out of business.

Pastor George next turned his attention to the "respectable" poker tables at the Elks Club, where many of his own parishioners often sat down for a "friendly game." Said he: "Gambling is the same unlawful practice on the 300 and 400 block [where the Elks and Eagles clubs are located] as it is in the 500 block [where a raid had taken place]." Last week he took the police to raid the Elks, reaped a barrage of threats and anonymous phone calls (sample: "Is this the sewage company?").

But next day San Bernardino's electors turned out to give Pastor George a rousing vote of confidence. Angered by the disclosures of the Kefauver committee and roused by George's own colorful blend of preaching and practice, they spring-cleaned the local administration in the city elections. Said Presbyterian George, as things began to simmer down again:

"I'm as orthodox as they make 'em in theology ... I trust that all my work is Christ-guided and Christ-centered . . . But I am convinced that beliefs imply action. I am more practical than contemplative."

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