What an amazing book. "Last of the Giants," written in 1948 with this edition published in 2015, chronicles the evangelical outreach of three men to the lumberjacks of northern Minnesota in the first half of the 20th century. The men -- Frank Higgins, John Sornberger and Al Channer -- came to be known as "Sky Pilots" for reasons that have nothing to do with aviation. (The book explains the origin of the term.)
To this day, lumberjacks are a breed apart, but in those days they were rough-hewn men working incredibly hard for long hours while existing in camps that were as rough as they were for little pay. When they got to town, many drank or gambled away their meager income or had it stolen by unscrupulous bartenders.
It was a godless environment, and this "people group" was written off or not even considered as a place to present the gospel. That was until God called Frank Higgins to the camps. This book chronicles the large number of transformed lives, camps and towns that resulted from his unapologetic preaching and compassion for the "jacks."
One of those who heard his preaching was Sornberger, whose conversion story is among the most remarkable I've ever come across. Sornberger went from being a wealthy prizefighter under the name Jack McWilliams (who never lost a fight until his last fight) to a desperate outlaw wanted by sheriffs across northern Minnesota. Then he heard Higgins preach, confessed Christ and took a 180-degree turn.
Pardoned for serious crimes by the governor of Minnesota (at a political price), Sornberger went on to follow in Higgins' footsteps. But he still wasn't above a brawl with the forces who opposed him:
... one of the bartenders seized what looked like a golden opportunity. He grabbed a bottle and swung it at the back of John's head. The alert scrapper saw the motion out of the corner of his eye, ducked, and whirled in one swift motion. He caught the wrist of his new assailant as the blow fell and broke the man's arm on the edge of the bar. Then he leaped over the bar in one clean vault, hit the dazed bartender behind the ear, and turned to any new business, which might be before the house.
He grabbed a full bottle of whiskey in each hand and, with unholy joy, swept the back bar clear of glasses, bottles, and liquor -- thus doing a full thousand dollars' worth of damage to the owner. Then he noticed the men lined up against the wall -- having been too busy to see them until that moment. He climbed up on the bar, a broken bottle held like a dagger in each hand and sent out his challenge: "All right," he said. "I'll clean up the whole lousy crew of you." His eyes swept up and down the row, as he demanded, "Which end of the line do I begin on?"
This book would be of value to anyone interested in the history of Christian revivals, missions and the like. It was of particular interest to me because I've lived for more than 20 years in Duluth, which is the region's biggest community. When the author describes a conversation that Higgins had at Fifth Avenue West and Superior Street -- a conversation that soon turned into preaching and drew scores of men -- I can picture that intersection today. I can't picture a sermon being preached to a crowd there today, because police would have to come and break it up to keep traffic moving.
At the time he wrote the book, the author was pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Duluth, the de facto "sending church" for the Sky Pilots, not always with strong backing from the larger denomination. He had an up-front view of the work and knew all three men, although only Channer was still alive when the book was written. Harry Rimmer wasn't afraid to criticize his own denomination. He reports, with disgust, the restrictions insisted on by an elder of a Presbyterian church in Cambridge, Wisconsin, to services led by Channer. These included limiting services to an hour and no altar calls. Channer preached boldly, and revival broke out anyway.
I wish that when this book was reprinted it also had been updated a bit. The language is flowery in places, and Rimmer was given to overstatement. Of Duluth, he wrote,"It is the most romantically and historically rich city on the American continent, and to know it is to love it, as no other city deserves affection."
I (heart) Duluth, but I wouldn't go THAT far.
He also uses one word that would be unthinkable to use today. It's not the word you're probably thinking of, but it's bad enough by today's standards. It could have been excised with no harm to the text.
As I'd love to see an updated version of "The Last of the Giants," I'd also like to see a condensed, well-illustrated version for children. The bar brawls probably would have to be eliminated, but I think boys, especially, would love the stories of these rough-and-tumble 20th century versions of Elijah and Elisha. The last of the giants? Perhaps not, but giants, certainly.