Growing up in Georgia, I devoured collards, cornbread and the columns by Louie D. Newton in the weekly issues of The Christian Index, the Georgia Baptist newspaper.
Newton was a well-known pastor, former editor of the Index, and a denominational statesman. In a folksy and friendly style, he usually filled his column with tidbits on the history of churches which he had visited for preaching engagements. Little did the Georgia boy know that one day he would be writing a column for a Baptist newspaper.
Louie D. Newton opened my eyes to a larger Baptist world beyond my family's church, which was a three block walk from my childhood home. He slipped in some character defining stories about the people called Baptists. Between those newspaper columns and the BTU on Sunday evenings the Georgia boy received a foundation on Baptist principles.
One of the most frequently consulted books on my shelf is entitled Why I Am a Baptist. It was compiled by Louie D. Newton who, at considerable length, shared his own Baptistic pilgrimage and also asked a stellar group of his denominational friends to tell, in their own words, why they were Baptists. These friends included Ted Adams of Richmond; Reuben E. Alley of the Religious Herald; Walter Pope Binns of William Jewell College; William Holmes Borders, pastor of one of the prominent African-American Baptist churches in Atlanta; Baker James Cauthen of the Foreign Mission Board; Solon B. Cousins, the celebrated Bible teacher at UR; Edward Hughes Pruden of the First Church, Washington.
The book was published when this columnist was 13 years old. Little did the Georgia boy know that one day he actually would become personally acquainted with most of those giants from 50 years ago. My copy of the book sold for $1.25 and I have received the money's worth and a whole lot more!
In the book, Louie D. Newton tells about a remarkable woman who was an early influence upon him. When he enrolled at Mercer University in 1910, an appropriate place to find Georgia Baptist boys, he went into the library and had his first encounter with Sallie Boone, the librarian. “She literally overwhelmed me,” remembered Newton. “She was vivacious, charming, exuberant, compelling. She knew books, and loved them; she knew students and loved them. From that day when Miss Sallie overwhelmed me with her cordial, compelling welcome, to the end of my senior year, and then the five years that I taught at Mercer, I went to her daily for help and guidance. There will never be another Miss Sallie.
“Soon after this first meeting with Miss Sallie, I asked her if she had a copy of Armitage's History of Baptists. Holding me by the ear—her favorite method of leading students to the library stacks—she pointed to the volume by the distinguished preacher-scholar and said: ‘That, my boy, is a great book. You see, I am a Presbyterian by birth, I suppose; but if I were to read that book too much, I would probably become a Baptist. It is, I repeat, a great book.”
Miss Sallie made the young collegian promise that he would take good care of the old book. But Miss Sallie had done more than just practice good librarianship that day in the Mercer library. She had made a friend for life. She had confessed that she was almost Baptist herself. She revealed that she had opened the covers of Armitage's hefty tome and read here and there some of the thrilling stories of the early Baptists. She also was sympathizing with the time-honored Baptist principles. “If I were to read that book too much,' said Miss Sallie, “I would probably become a Baptist.”
Sallie Goelz Boone served as librarian from 1904 until her retirement in 1934 and, like many college personalities, she remained a fixture on the Mercer campus until her death in 1951. A student newspaper identified her as the “campus sweetheart” throughout her long career. When alumni gatherings were held, Miss Sallie was expected to be present; and she greeted all the “old boys” with one of her charming and exuberant “Helllllo-o-o-s!”
One of the “old boys” from the Class of '20 described the librarian as “Mercer's Comet, on dark days, cheerful always, and seeking always for someone who needed her cheerfulness.” It seems that Miss Sallie would have felt right at home in a Baptist homecoming service. In 1911 the yearbook was renamed as the Cauldron and the first edition was dedicated to Miss Sallie.
Because so many of the old-time Georgia Baptist ministers passed through Mercer, Miss Sallie probably knew more Baptist preachers in her home state than any other non-Baptist. As a librarian in a Baptist school, she likely also knew more about Baptist history, principles, polity and character than most dyed-in-the-wool Baptists. Louie D. Newton's recollection of her statement is intriguing. “If I were to read that book too much, I would probably become a Baptist.”
There are many people who, whether they realize it or not, are almost Baptist. People—regardless of their denominational affiliation—who appreciate religious liberty in its fullest dimension, who harbor a high respect for the individual in matters of conscience and church participation, and who consider the Bible as the sole rule book for Christianity might just be almost Baptist.
(Note: Top o' the hat to Arlette Copeland, special collections assistant in the Jack Tarver Library at Mercer University, for information about Miss Sallie. She is a good latter-day successor to the celebrated librarian.)
Fred Anderson is executive director of the Virginia Baptist Historical Society and the Center for Baptist Heritage and Studies. He may be contacted at P.O. Box 34, University of Richmond, VA 23173.