Dr. Ralph Clinton Brown needs no eulogy today. The story of his life is over 81 years long, and a very interesting story. He wrote it himself, with indelible ink, upon the lives of his family and friends.
He learned valuable lessons in living early, for he was eighth in a family of nine children. Through family cooperation and planning he was able to graduate from high school. The most his father ever made was $1.86 per day as a railroad car inspector, so his two elder brothers helped see that he got to high school. These close family ties continued through life.
He graduated from high school before he was 17. He said: “School was the supreme joy of my childhood and youth.” He adored his teachers and loved books, which was indicative of what was to come.
He taught in the rural schools for three years, beginning when he was seventeen. In 1910 he attended the spring term of West Virginia Wesleyan College. In the fall of 1911 he came as a full-time student. He said, “The first encounter with Wesleyan was a red-letter day in my life — the spirit of the students — so gracious and helpful to the new student– met me at the train, helped with the baggage — guided in finding a place to room and board — all of this and more.” One of those students was a coed by the name of Phyllis Perrin, later to become Mrs. Ralph C. Brown.
He spoke of the quiet kindness of Dean Haught, and the personal interest of the faculty. So he came to love Wesleyan with a love and interest that continued for over 60 years.
It was my privilege to meet him first fifty-nine years ago this summer. He was 22 years old and had been appointed our pastor for a few monhs to fill out the conference year. He was a senior at Wesleyan that fall.
The first time I heard him speak was at a district Sunday School convention in August 1914, when he first came as our pastor. Those who heard him speak that day said he would make his mark as a minister.
He graduated with honors at Wesleyan in 1915, and spent the next year at West Virginia University, taking Philosophy of Religion and New Testament Greek. From there he went to Boston University School of Theology, finishing the three-year course for his STB in two years.
In 1918 he came back to West Virginia hoping to be ordained and go as a chaplain, but the war ended and he was appointed to a four-point-charge on Cabin Creek, West Virginia. The next year he became pastor of a two-point-charge and principal of a two-room-school, and also served as Sunday School Superintendent.
In June 1919, while there, he and Phyllis Perrin were married. One year later they came to Sutton for a two-year happy pastorate. In the fall of 1922, he was elected Professor of Bible and Philosophy at Wesleyan, where he was to serve with outstanding distinction for 39 years.
Through the years, those who knew him best found him to be an inspiring teacher, wise counselor and warm friend. His love for books continued through all his life. He was an avid reader and possessed a vivid memory.
He had a way of imparting inspiration and knowledge to others. I remember a sermon he preached 47 years ago at a Country Life Conference, in a country church I was serving as pastor. His text was from Hebrews thirteenth chapter, eighth verse: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today, and forever.” He said, “He is the same in His revelation of God; the same in character; the same in His welcome to people.” Yesterday, today and forever. Those Words Welcome and Forever, how full of meaning today.
Dr. Brown had a great versatility in knowledge and teaching. I recall having courses in Bible, Ethics, Greek, Latin, Logic, and Philosophy to him. He taught each course as if it were his major, but Bible was his major field. West Virginia Wesleyan and thousands of its alumni and friends are deeply indebted to him.
He stood by the College in sunshine and in cloudy weather. When salaries went down to $1800 per year, and part of that in IOU’s he stayed on. There are those who say he gave them deeper insight into the Bible than any other teacher, including those in seminary.
He said his greatest joy in trying to contribute to the life of the church was in the classroom and the pastorate. In addition to his duties as professor at Wesleyan he served three months as District Superintendent of the Buckhannon District, and served four months as pastor of First Methodist Church, Buckhannon, upon the death of its pastor. For over 20 years he taught an adult Bible class in the church.
Every once in awhile he would say something that caused you to ponder. Not long ago I was visiting with him and we were discussing the state of the country and world. As I was leaving he said to me: “Ross, there is something about money that strangles people.:” I wish I had gone back and asked him to elaborate. And, just a few days before his death I visited for a short time with him. We were discussing how the son of a prominent family was writing in such a way as to cast reflections upon his parents. I said to Dr. Brown “why is he doing it?” His simple answer was: “Money.”
After retirement in 1961 he had his companion of these many years; his children and grandchildren; his home that he cherished; his garden that he cared for faithfully, and his books. He was faithful in attendance at church, and often found his way to the College.
Listen to his own words: “Now in retirement, with the best books and a garden, in moments of reflection, I thank God for friends, for the privilege of a life of study of the Bible, and with a deep conviction that my life has been guided by a wiser mind than mine. I trust that I have not been a totally inefficient instrument in his hands.”
Just recently he wrote in appreciation of leadership of West Virginia Wesleyan in the past, and expressed joy in the coming of John D. Rockefeller IV as the new president, and the high hope he had for the future of the college. Then he wrote, as if in anticipation, “Now lettest thy servant depart in peace.”
It is fitting that he died here, and that his funeral is being held here among his books, in sight of his garden, and with family and friends present. The words of Tennyson from IN MEMORIAM are in keeping:
Stong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone embrace, Believing where we cannot prove;
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust; Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die; And thou has made him: thou art just.
Forgive my grief for one removed, Thy creature, whom I found so fair. I trust he lives in thee, and there I find him worthier to be loved.
Recently he read a new book by Bruce Catton entitled, “Waiting For the Morning Train.” An American Boyhood. He showed the last two paragraphs to his daughter, Mary, and gave her the book to read. These words are fitting with which to close:
Old age, as I have said before, is like youth in this one respect: it finds one waiting at the railroad junction for a train that is never going to come back; and whether the arrival and possible destination of this train is awaited with the high hopes that youth entertains when it waits for its own train depends, no doubt, on the individual. I think Father had hopes.
But you know how it can be, waiting at the junction for the night train. You have seen all the sights, and it is a little too dark to see any more een if you did miss some, and the waiting room is uncomfortable and the time of waiting is dreary, longdrawn, with wind from the cold north whipping curls of fog past the green lamps on the switch stands. Finally, far away yet not so far really, the train can be heard; the doctor (or station agent) hears it first, but finally you hear it yourself and you go to the platform to get on. And there is the headlight, shining far down the track, glinting off the steel rails that, like all parallel lines, will meet in infinity, which is after all where the train is going. And there by the steps of the sleeping car is the pullman conductor, checking off his list. He has your reservation, and he tells you that your berth is all ready for you. And then, he adds the final assurance as you go down the aisle to the curtained bed: ‘I’ll call you in the morning.;…In the morning.”
Dr. Brown had the firm conviction that upon leaving here at death we are immediately aware of being in the presence of Him who said to one dying by his side: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
Eulogy given at the funeral of Dr. Ralph C. Brown by the Rev. Dr. Ross Linger.