This memoir was written by Sibyl Powe and me for the Christian education program at St. Philip's in Durham twenty odd years ago, as is obvious from the use of the term "Negro parish," among other things. Sibyl has since died, and I do not know what research she did. She consulted David's sister, Clair Yates Owen, at some length about the years she covered: from his birth until he left St. Philip's to come to the Chapel of the Cross in l945.
For my part I went through the file of the Carolina Churchman, the diocesan paper at that time. I also consulted the Journal of Proceedings of the Diocese of North Carolina for the appropriate years, and also the file of the Crossroads, which the North Carolina room of the library had. It was fairly extensive, but not complete.
I was a member of the Chapel of the Cross from l942 to 1953 and was pretty regular in my attendance, as well as having various personal contacts with him. My husband Francis joined the church in 1952. We left Chapel Hill in 1953 to go to Nashville, Tennessee, where Francis taught at Vanderbilt until 1967. We then returned to this diocese, Francis to teach at Duke, and we became members of St. Philip's in Durham.
We were fortunate enough to see a good deal of David after he went to Otey Memorial in Sewanee, as he often came to Nashville on diocesan business and frequently came to see us, and on two different occasions he paid us a visit of a day or two. He told us about many of his experiences in Sewanee during the years 1960-1966, and we have a number of his letters to us from that time. The last time we saw him was in the early fall of 1966, and he told us then that he had gone to the Mayo Clinic in connection with what became his final illness.
Since coming to Carol Woods in the summer of 1999 it has been a great pleasure to us to see something of Rebecca Warren again, and Francis showed her this paper. She showed it to Henry Lewis, and she read it to Lawrence London, and they both urged me to put it in better order and pass it on to the Chapel of the Cross, which I am happy to do, though my part at least is a very amateurish effort. If this memoir has any value for the parish I will be glad, but please do not feel any need to preserve it.
Louise Newton
Chapel Hill, N. C., June 2000
The photo shows David Yates with the Newton children in 1967.
"He was one of the few men I have known in my life in whom I found absolute integrity," the Rev. James Cox, Church of the Incarnation, Dallas, Texas, said.
"He stood like a rock for what he believed to be right," the Rev. Thom Blair, former rector of Christ Church, Charlotte, declared.
"Upon a few choice spirits, he made the impact of a lifetime. Upon others, he had a delayed effect - conversions in retrospect," Arthur Ben Chitty, chairman of Funds for Episcopal Colleges, recalled.
The Rev. Tom Thrasher, former rector of the Chapel of the Cross, Chapel Hill, wrote at the time of David's death, "what he was, he plainly was, and his convictions were audible, visible, understandable, known."
"He was the conscience of the Diocese," -Bishop Edwin A. Penick.
"My ministry is based in a large part on his ministry. He was a great influence on my life," the Rev.L. Bartine Sherman offered. Mr. Sherman was at one time an assistant at the Chapel of the Cross, and later was rector of St. Philip's in Durham.
And Kay Brownell, former Durham resident, stated simply, "Whoever knew David Yates was bound to know Our Lord."
David Watt Yates was born in Charlotte, North Carolina, September 4, 1904. He was the son of David Schenck Yates, a prominent Charlotte insurance man, and Edith May Will Yates. His mother was an Episcopalian; his father was Presbyterian. His mother's brother, Theodore S. Will, was an Episcopal minister.
He had one older brother, William, and a younger sister, Clair, now Mrs. Andrew Owen, both of whom still live in Charlotte. Clair recalls that David was mischievous when he was a little boy, but she insists "he never did a mean thing in all his life." In her early snapshots of him, David appeared as a cherubic, blue-eyed blond. Even as an adult, he possessed that innocent, sweet expression of childhood.
When and how did David become interested in the ministry? We know he attended the Presbyterian church briefly when he was quite young, but he spent the rest of his life as a totally committed Episcopalian. His sister Clair thinks their mother always wanted him to be a minister. She also believes Bishop Penick encouraged David towards the ministry. The Bishop was rector of St. Peter's church in Charlotte when David was a very active communicant there.
David grew to be a tall, almost gangling man; yet he had the grace and style of an athlete. He loved sports from all standpoints - as player, as a coach, and as a spectator. But most of all, he appreciated the human relationships which he encountered in the sports arena. He preferred structured team sports, and he operated best when playing by the rules of the game.
David's mother died of cancer when David was a senior in high school (1921). He had wanted to go to college, and he dreamed of entering seminary. But with his father a tubercular invalid and his sister Clair and brother Bill interested in college too, he had to postpone his own education for a while. After graduation from Charlotte High School, David went to work at the Thompson Orphanage in Charlotte. He was associated with the Orphanage for six years, serving as secretary and athletic director. During this period he lived at home with his ill father. Soon after his father died, David enrolled at the University of the South, Sewanee, Tennessee (1927), majoring in English, History, and Greek - all three! He was older, of course, than most of his classmates, but this did not deter him from succeeding in the classroom or in extra-curricular activities. Valedictorian of his class, Phi Beta Kappa, and letters for four years in basketball and tennis were the honors he earned. He also sang in the Sewanee glee club. During those college years, he worked at a number of summer jobs including one with Duke Power Company in Charlotte.
In the spring of 1934, he received his Bachelor of Divinity degree from Virginia Theological Seminary and was ordained as Deacon on June 21 of that same year by Bishop Penick. Bishop Penick ordained David to the priesthood on January 16, 1935. Top of the page
From Tarboro to St. Philip's, Durham
David's first clerical assignment was as assistant-to-the-Rector of Calvary Church, Tarboro, 1934-35. He became rector of St. Philip's Episcopal Church, Durham, November 12, 1935, and he served there for ten years.
In Durham, he rented a furnished room from Mrs. Ethel Lipscomb on Duke Street. During World War II, he often rode his bicycle from the Lipscomb house to the parish house on East Main Street. (The new parish house had not been built, and David's office was in a little wooden structure behind the Church.) Once on a particularly cold day, with head ducked low and bicycle flying along, David ran into an automobile and was badly bruised and lacerated. In spite of his injuries, he managed to get to St. Philip's in time to conduct the regular eleven o'clock service (a bit shakily).
David developed a parish ministry which was unusual, even in the days of small, close parishes. He was a real shepherd to his flock. He knew every family in his church -and he knew them well, including their children, relatives, friends, and neighbors. He was like a member of the family. The amazing thing was that he had the capability of being part of everybody's family in his church. He kept in touch with what they were all doing, and he shared their day-by-day joys as well as their sorrows. He visited them often in their homes. (It was a standing joke that he always seemed to arrive about dinner time. Of course another plate would be added, and David would enjoy the proffered food as well as the fellowship.) He called on all new visitors at St. Philip's almost before they had time to get home from church.
Since he never married, his ideas about the responsibilies of mothers with young children were somewhat naïve. Several parishioners recall David's coming to the hospital to see a new mother and infant; and while there, he would try to persuade the mother to teach a church school class or undertake another church duty the following Sunday. When there were objections to his requests, he chided that each of us has duties in the Church as well as in the home, at work, and in the community.
The practices of religion were an important part of his parish ministry; they were obligatory; and they were intended to cultivate Christian discipline which he felt was as essential as Christian service. He set rigorous standards for his parishioners, by example as well as by admonition, and though his strait-laced rules turned off some, they provided most parishioners with enough strict guidelines to define easily their relationship to the church.
To David, the church was the pivot from which all action revolved!
His ministry included visiting all Episcopalians, no matter where they were from, who were confined in local hospitals. He even requested Diocesan priests to send him names of parishioners from their home towns who were patients in Durham so that he could contact them.
This kind of personal ministry is recognized as being extremely time consuming and emotionally draining. Today, it has become full time employment for many hospital chaplains. But David Yates never thought of complaining about the personal toll. He frequently worked a 12 to 14 hour day, tireless, indefatigable, and cheerful in his work. He made it abundantly clear, however, that being a friend to so many was not a technique he used to advance his own popularity, but a means of translating his Lord's message of love.
No one will ever know how much of his small income he gave away. When there were needs in the parish that others could not or would not meet, he tried to help with what little he had. He lived simply and frugally on his inadequate salary, and his friends and family noticed that sometimes he was actually ravenous when invited to "stay for dinner." His worldly possessions were meager. In Tarboro and Durham, his bedroom was furnished by the landlady. In Chapel hill, his efficiency apartment was furnished by loans of furniture from dear friends, Dewey and Lonnie London. He never collected any of the material things most of us surround ourselves with. He did not, for instance, have a large library or record collection or works of art or attractive clothes or even the gadgets that make life easier. If he collected anything, it was people.
An important aspect of the man David was the unwavering manner in which he carried out his convictions. Some people, including those closest to him, considered him stubborn and uncompromising. However, almost everyone respected his sincerity and tenacity even when they disagreed with him.
Once at Diocesan Convention when David was espousing endlessly a controversial point, Bishop Penick admonished him to "sit down, say no more, and let the convention make its decision."
Yet the Bishop later described David as the "conscience of the Diocese," and in private said, "David has more Christianity in his little finger than I have in my whole body."
World War II created a difficult moral issue which David felt he must face head-on. He began quietly to preach pacifism. His sermons were often about the wrongs of warfare and the wrongs of conscription. Even if his parishioners had accepted the first wrong (which was difficult, at best, during a popular war), it was too much to expect them to endorse the individual's wrong in serving when called to combat. Most St. Philippians had members of their family already inducted into the armed forcrs, and some had borne the tragic loss of loved ones in the war.
David antagonized his flock further by not using prayers for men and women in the service. Yet he encouraged dances arranged for the servicemen stationed at Camp Butner in the old parish house. He always attended these functions, and he insisted that black soldiers not be excluded. During the old days of segregation it was more than a feat for white parents (there were no black communicants at St. Philip's then) to allow their young daughters to participate in social functions - even though church sponsored - which involved dancing with black partners. The dances proved to be successful; there were often as many as 200 young people jammed into the parish house for the Saturday night occasions.
David's earnest and relentless stand on the war made many St. Philippians uncomfortable with him. Yet in the midst of his critics, some were saying "I can't go alomg with his pacifist ideas, but I know David is taking the Christian point of view."
If this period of his life could be termed a crusade, it would have to be interpreted as a sacrificial endeavor. For the most part, David's words were falling on deaf ears. There was practically no support for his condemnation of the war either in the parish or in the diocese. He might have found some audience on a national scale, but David rarely worked beyond diocesan lines.
This must have been a terribly lonely time for David Yates. It also must have tested his faith. But his commitment was strong - even without hope of compensation.
In the telling, it might seem that David's ministry was an enigma. On the one hand, he took a conservative stand on a Christian's duty toward his church; on the other hand, he was considered by some to be almost radical on moral, social issues of his day. But wasn't he sincerely and simply following the teachings of the Church in all situations?
David will be remembered for his work with young people. He built a strong Young People's Service League at St. Philip's. He was only able to do this because young people genuinely liked and admired him. One of the projects undertaken by the youth of the church was the publication of a lengthy (sometimes as many as 12 pages) bulletin entitled "St. Philip's Press."
During summers, David directed athletics, or sometimes a whole camp, at Camp Cheshire, Vade Mecum, or Kanuga. These camps usually lasted two weeks. His worn blue blazer with padded elbows was a familiar sight to hundreds of North Carolina Episcopal boys and girls. He always wore the old blazer at softball games and other sporting events.
He found it easy to relate to young people on the playing field, but at other times it was difficult for him to communicate. For example, David's annual sermon on "Christians and Sex" sent the teenagers into hysterics. They thought his old fashioned ideas were funny. But in spite of their amusement, there was a tinge of love and respect. Perhaps it was because they knew he cared.
It was while David was rector of St. Philip's that plans were made to build a new parish house, but he did not stay long enough to see the building completed.
In the Diocese of North Carolina, David was a member of the Standing Committee from 1942-1947; deputy to the General Convention, 1940, 1943, 1946, and 1949; an Examining Chaplain 1945-55; secretary to the Executive Council 1935-38, 1939-40, 1944-47, 1949-50; and member 1954-57; chairman of the Department of Youth 1945-47; chairman of the Department of Promotion 1949-52; and Chairman of the Department of Missions 1954-55.
He was a trustee of the University of the South 1937-46, and a trustee of St. Augustine's College 1945-59. Top of the page
In April of 1945 David left Durham and St. Philip's to become the rector of the Chapel of the Cross in Chapel Hill. He was forty, his real youth behind him. When he left Chapel Hill to go to Sewanee, he was 54. The 14 years that he was in Chapel Hill were the years that are the most productive in most people's lives. And truly his ministry there was remarkable. Rev. Peter Lee, present rector of the Chapel of the Cross, said recently that David was still a strong force in the parish, though it has been 18 years since he left.
His visible accomplishments there were, to say the least, imposing. In David's own account, written for the Parish Register, we find that "early in 1950 a Parish Planning Committee was appointed to study the needs of the parish and to make recommendations for its future development in the light of the anticipated growth of the town and the University." This foresight resulted in the restoration of the 19th century church, which was next door to the main parish church, and which had been found in March 1950 to be unsafe. The restoration was complete by February 1951, less than a year later, to the tune of $21,000.
Two much greater accomplishments also came from this looking ahead. First, the congregation of the Chapel of the Cross already numbered more than the 400 considered to be the best size for an effective ministry, and David and the Vestry started a new church in a growing section of Chapel Hill. The Church of the Holy Family opened its doors in December, 1953, not quite 3 years later, with 143 communicants. Then the needs of the home church were also expanding, and the third big project was the renovation and enlarging of the parish house. This was started in May 1955 and finished in September 1958, at a cost of $200,000. By 1959 when David left Chapel Hill, and only 3 years after the beginning of the project, $167,000 of this had been pledged. Those of us who knew David often tend to think of him as primarily a spiritual leader. These rather dull facts, figures and dates show that he was also a mover and builder of formidable ability and despatch.
Besides buildings, other visible accomplishments were the chairs in the aisles, put there Sunday after Sunday to accommodate the overflow. And the Sunday School grew to such an extent that by 1950 the superintendent reported that they would have to turn children away or run double sessions, unless they could enlarge their quarters.
Another thing that David did at the Chapel of the Cross was visible in a different way. About 1952 the first black members were added to the roll, a medical student and his family, This was accomplished with a minimum of uproar by the quiet preparation which David always made before undertaking something new. Before the children went to Sunday School every white family was telephoned and the situation explained; and when the women of the auxiliary, as it was then called, complained that they didn't mind the blacks at church or at Sunday School but their meetings were at people's homes, David simply reminded them that the meetings could be held at the parish house.
All these things were just the outward and visible signs of what David accomplished in Chapel Hill. It is said that the priest is the vessel by which man is brought to God, through His Church. This was never truer of anybody than of David. We have seen how he did this at St. Philip's; it was evident in his enthusiastic work with young people; his closeness to to his parishioners; his reaching out to strangers, the sick, and the lonely; and his fierce championing of all missionary work.
There is, in the research library at UNC, a partial file of the "Cross Roads," the parish bulletin for the Chapel of the Cross. It is a mine of information about David's work in Chapel Hill, and how he went about it. Two of these entries are typical. On November 10, 1948, we find: "Eric Jones, his wife and ten children have lost by fire all money, tobacco crops, and most belongings. Any who wish to contribute furniture, clothing, money, or any other form of aid will please leave them in the parish house, or telephone about heavier articles for which a truck will be needed." And on February 27, 1949, this note about a congregational meeting: "On this night the Church comes first. Someone called it 'church family night.' Let us make it so and find it a most agreeable duty." This is such a good example of how David got people to do things. "On this night the Church comes first," and then "a most agreeable duty," Here is certainty and a sense of proportion. He doesn't pretend it isn't a duty, but suggests that it is a most agreeable duty. In this simple 24-word notice we see a whole attitude to the Church.
Then we find in the "North Carolina Churchman" for February, 1949, an account of the bazaar of that year. Something over $1000 was made, and it was allotted to the Auxiliary current fund, chapel repair, carpet for the church, the work in Alaska, St Agnes' Hospital in Raleigh, the rectory for the missionary to the deaf, world relief, and an undesignated fund. These isolated bits from his 14 years in Chapel Hill perhaps shed a little light on the range of his concern, and the simplicity with which he went about things
We can hardly leave our record of David's activities (we could never complete it), begun in Durham and continued in Chapel Hill, without mentioning the formidable schedule he kept, of services held as well as personal activities.. He was always seeing needs that had to be met, and perhaps in a university town there is a wider variety of needs than in a more conventional parish. For example he had, at least for a time, daily communion services at 7:00 or 7:30. There were also Evening Prayer services at 5:45, held by the pre-ministerial students. And in 1948 he started having Sunday Evening Prayer regularly, with a short sermon. This was to help young parents, who could get a sitter more readily at night. He added in the Cross Roads, that it would also be helpful to those "who would like to devote more than an hour on Sunday to the primary purpose for which the day is set aside." Lent, too, was a very real and serious part of his ministry. Many services were added in that season, and so many people attended the daily 5:15 service regularly that it had to be moved to the big church. Perhaps part of the reason for the crowds was the sense of Christian obligation David made the congregation feel. One year he said about the daily Lenten services, "I don't think that a half-hour a day is too much to ask of a Christian when you consider what Christ did for us." An unforgettable series of Lenten talks were those of 1950, on the seven deadly sins.
What, then, were the invisible accomplishments, the intangible results of all this pouring out of David's spiritual as well as physical strength? We shall try to sum up briefly at the end of this paper, but we might mention here that in addition to the presence of David and his work still felt today by the permanent congregation, l4 generations of students were enriched by his ministry, and some were changed for life. It is said that while he was at the Chapel of the Cross more students went into the ministry from his parish than any other parish in the country. Top of the page
Then in September of 1959 David took on an even heavier assignment. He went as rector to Otey Memorial Church in Sewanee, Tennessee. As Sibyl and I read over our very few documents about David's work there, we realized anew that we are concerned here with a great clergyman. He undertook in Sewanee climactic things. It seems certain that one of the major things that attracted him to that parish was the Seminary at the University of the South there. Of course, Otey is also known as the most difficult parish in America, which must have been a challenge. And he had always been outspoken on the importance of supporting Sewanee energetically in our diocese.
The integration of Otey Parish is probably the most widely known of his achievements there, but probably the most important and enduring achievement was his work with what is known as the "theologs," or seminary students. About 200 graduated while he was there. Someone said, "For them I believe you were 2nd century Christianity in action. Many a parish will be operated on a higher plane because of you. They've heard real sermons, they've seen real commitment." And again, "He labored as a teacher and painstakingly fashioned his sermons to bring the whole message of the Church ... to his flock. Critical decisions he made without regard for his own popularity, or well being. He set an example in personal stewardship, voluntarily reducing his own income to subsistence level ..." This last was to aid in his effort to raise the church's budget for work outside the parish to fifty percent of the church's budget. When we think that the seminarians who went through his hands were two percent of that whole generation of clergy in America, we begin to realize how great his influence was.
An interesting sidelight of his work with the seminarians, and an example of his perceptiveness, was his work with the wives of the seminarians. He realized that many had married their husbands at a time when they had no idea of going into the ministry, and though their husbands now had a strong commitment, many wives did not, or found it very difficult. We can be sure that his influence on them, too, was important, if not critical.
The most spectacular part of his ministry in Sewanee was, of course, his work with integration. Under his leadership Otey Memorial became the first parish to desegregate in the Diocese of Tennessee. David told us that he saw an opportunity to start this when the priest-in-charge of St. Mark's Mission, the Negro parish in Sewanee, left the Diocese. David began by desegrating the Sunday School first. It was made easier for the blacks to accept, perhaps, by the fact that St. Mark's was kept open for any blacks who wished to continue worshiping there. It is reported, though, that most members moved to Otey.
Another example of his concern with the very great problems facing both blacks and whites at that time may be seen in an interesting article in the Living Church for Oct. 11, 1964. Here he tells of the work that Otey's committee on Christian social relations did with the black children, newly integrated into the white schools and beginning to have trouble with their work. A summer school was organized which would give very close supervision to the pupils, with a teacher-student ratio of five to two. Tutorial work for the following fall was planned as well. High school students helped with this project, and, it is reported, "were thrilled that the Church was giving them something to do besides washing cars."
One of David's greatest interests was what was called proportionate giving, which we mentioned in passing above, that is, that at least half of the church's budget should be earmarked for needs outside the parish. Otey was a consistent leader in the diocese in this respect. In recognition of this concern, the congregation established the David W. Yates Scholarship to St. Mary's School in Sagada, the Philippines. Top of the page
The first thing you noticed was how friendly he was. He found out who you were the first time you met him and from that moment on he knew who you were and a warm interest always flowed out toward you. And he was always cheerful, not loud cheerful but a kind of gentle happiness. Perhaps that was one of the things that endeared him so to children.
But this friendliness stemmed from a deeper concern with people and their needs. He went out and looked for people who in his opinion belonged in the church, or should be confirmed, or had some need. Soon after he went to Chapel Hill, whole chunks of families were confirmed. One can imagine him checking on the whole congregation to see who needed to be confirmed, and then going out and bringing them in. Sometimes he seemed to check on the whole town, and bring them in to the Church.
We haven't commented before on David's courage, though it is implicit in everything in his life. He never shrank from anything he saw as his duty, no matter how difficult, or isolating, or even dangerous. But it was unspectacular courage. I can easily imagine how he faced a man in a filling station in Sewanee who threatened his life. This was at the time when he integrated the church there. I imagine David speaking to him quietly, without rancor, and explaining that this was what the church ought to be doing.
People have often called David rigid in his insistence on following the rules. There is a certain truth in this. But this strictness in observance of the church's canons was one of the things that enabled him to accomplish difficult or unpopular things (or both), such as integrating the parish, or breaking up the highly social women's groups. It was difficult to fault him for the changes he insisted on when they were clearly consistent with the canons and creed of the church. Of course, many of us complained anyway. He was, in fact, an intelligent and highly educated man. His intelligence was particularly noticeable in the alert and focused way he reacted to people as they brought problems or difficulties.
I am struck as I think about him now with three major things about David: his simplicity, how closely in touch with reality he was, and his deep conviction that Christ's church was the connection between God and man.
Simplicity as well as warmth was a component of his friendliness, and the simplicity of his speech and style were a vital part of his personality. He had a very plain style when reading the service, but it was thoughtful and sure. The way he read the prayers, for example, helped to bring out the meaning. His emphasis on the "dew of thy blessing" in the prayer for the clergy always made vivid the way God's blessings rain down upon us all. He always said, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners," reminding us that it was those who were conscious of their sin that Jesus came to help. But most vivid of all was the way he said, "thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy." One felt, somehow, that every person in the church, David himself, choir, and congregation, was in the presence of God.
He was as close to reality as any one I have ever known: the reality of the pain of others, from poverty, or incapacity, or frustration, or despair, and he helped them to see how the church could help them. His closeness to reality was also manifested in his realism. He was often accused of setting impossibly high standards, but I think he had a good idea of what people were capable of, and he brought us along as far as we could go. To that end he preached simple but useful sermons. He preached, for example, about the need for concentration, especially during the prayers. One was comforted when he said that at first it was difficult to concentrate more than ten minutes at the time.
A hymn he often had us sing was "Once to every man and nation," which includes these words, "New occasions teach new duties." David never left us in any doubt as to what our new duties were. It was his practice, though, to start early and prepare us for the obligations; his sermons pointed out where duty lay, and gave concrete helps for carrying out that duty. They always started where the listener was, and then showed the way he should go. Then when the new obligation came up, we were as ready for it as possible.
To my mind, this concreteness is the outstanding overall impact of his sermons, but they could also be very profound. A series of sermons he preached on the personality of God stands out in my memory. Another sermon of his was said to have been what sent Maurice Kidder to the seminary.
And finally I feel that his conviction that Christ's church was the conection between God and man was at the center of his ministry. Sibyl has spoken above about Christian discipline, which "he felt was as essential as Christian service." To David, Christian discipline meant the regular observance of Christian practices - of "going to church every Sunday" - as a means of striving toward greater spirituality, of getting closer to God; and it meant participation in the community of worship and reaching out that the Church embodies.
The Rev. Tom Thrasher, whom Sibyl quoted above, summed up all this when he said at the time of David's death: "his is a ministry not spectacular but essential."