Brother Van

by Stella Wyatt Brummitt

Painting by Charles M. Russell.

RIDING TOWARD THE FRONT OF THE STAMPEDING BEASTS, BROTHER VAN SHOT THE HERD LEADER IN THE HEAD

The porch has no board floor and is low, so we can see the roof strewn with buffalo horns and skulls. On the stockade-door the latch-string hangs out, and it means just that, a true Western hospitality. We pull the string, the latch lifts, and we stand in the presence of thecowboy artist. He looks both cowboy and artist. His long hair is thrown back from a strong and sun-browned face, and this suggests the artist; so does the scarlet sash that he wears. His flannel shirt is open at the throat, and his Khaki trousers are thrust into high boots, showing the habit of the cowboy.

Around that interesting room is a record of the history of Montana. War-bonnets and tomahawks hang from pegs. In a rack are rifles which tell the story of firearm progress from the flintlock to the Springfield, and then to the Winchester. Indian beads, rugs, baskets, and blankets form a wealth of color on the walls, and before a great fireplace stands an easel, and lo, the artist is telling our story in a finer way. There are the figures of Lewis and Clarke on the canvas. An Indian village is in the background, and in the center we recognize the woman guide, Sacajawea. She is meeting her childhood friend who had been taken prisoner when she was.

As he watched Montana develop with the anxiety that a father gives to the growth of an awkward, beloved boy, Brother Van saw a newneed. Always had he ministered to sick and dying miners, cowboys, and settlers. But as the years passed he saw that it would be a great advantage to the state if the sick and dying could be cared for with all the help that modern medical science affords. He realized the necessity of placing patients under religious influence and teaching. The cure of souls was to him even more important than the cure of bodies; so he began to talk and to pray for a Christian hospital. Probably fifty thousand dollars has passed through Brother Van’s hands in the time he has served Montana, but he owns no home or cattle. Even the pony is no more and a Ford is not its successor. The salary for his first year’s work was nothing, and for the second it was seventy-five dollars. In later years he received seventeen hundred dollars. Yet every Protestant enterprise has had an impetus from Brother Van’s pocketbook.

He interested his church in the need of a hospital, and deaconesses were brought west and a hospital was started. Every one but the prime mover became discouraged by the hardships that the project encountered, but he continuedto sing, to pray, to praise Montana, and to work for Montana. In Great Falls now stands a beautiful hospital, entirely fireproof and modern in every convenience. In the hall of the building hangs a painting. It is a western scene, and shows a man riding furiously toward the leader of a herd of buffalo; Indians ride behind as interested spectators to the shooting of the large beast. The inscription below is “Brother Van shooting buffalo,” and it illustrates the story already told. The artist is Charles M. Russell.

Across the street is the Van Orsdel Home where white-capped and swift-footed nurses reside, and this is the story of the building. Once upon a time some gamblers, cowboys, and saloon men decided that they, too, wanted to tell Brother Van that they wished him well. He had fought the saloon with a zeal that could not be misunderstood, but he fought fairly. He hated the business and told its supporters so in no mincing language; but he didn’t hate the men and they knew that. They decided to raise one thousand dollars and give it to him that he might buy a home of his own, or that hemight have the money to do as he wished. The fund was started. At first it grew slowly and then by bounds. It was put in a bank and as time went by the deposit was forgotten. A gambler, who was on his death-bed, wanted to see Brother Van. He answered the call at once, and was able to help the dying man hear from the Master, “Thy sins are forgiven thee.” In his last moments the man told about the money that was lying in the bank and accumulating interest. Brother Van drew it out and soon a nurses’ home was started.

Within the walls of the Van Orsdel Home is a home life of rare culture and beauty. Many girls are sheltered and trained there who were brought to the pioneer preacher as infants twenty years earlier that he might lay hands on them in baptism. At the beginning of each school year of the Nurses’ Training School, Brother Van greets those uniformed students with encouraging words and with a tender appeal for loyalty to the Master whom he serves.

One of Brother Van’s enterprises seemed not to be of God’s planning. That was the original home of Montana Wesleyan, five milesfrom Helena. People spoke of the neglected building as a mistake and an expensive failure. Boys threw stones through every pane of glass in the three-story building. A family of lively coyotes occupied the big dining-room; bats took up their abode in the dark corners; spiders spun their webs unhindered over the ceiling, and owls seemingly joined the scoffers in their derision of the enterprise. Occasionally a solitary figure would come into the building and kneeling in the dust, would implore God to give him a reason against the prevalent unbelief. He would ask God to use these buildings for his own service, and for the Christian uplift of young people. Surely there was some use for them. The years passed, and this solitary figure began to see another need for his cherished Montana. The young people had long since been coming to the university on Capitol Hill, but in the wide expanses of the state there were yet many children unschooled. There were orphans to be protected, and other children too far from the district school for daily attendance. These became a new and dear care to Brother Van.