Category: 1909

Frederick George Fischer, c.1909

Note: The following is from the 1909 Billy Sundat souvenir program, c. 1909.

Frederick George Fischer

Fred G. Fischer

THE Rev. W. A. Sunday says that “Fred” Fischer (he always calls him by the pet name of “Fred”) is the best chorus conductor in the world. The evangelist ought to know. He has been with all the great evangelists from Moody and Sankey to Torrey and Chapman, and is acquainted with the most successful chorus leaders and soloists in the work to-day. Mr. Sunday’s high ideals of what the leader of gospel song in his meetings, at least, must approximate unto are attainable only by those who are born leaders of men. He is after results, and believes the gospel can be sung into people as well as preached into them.

He has been with Mr. Sunday nine years. That alone speaks volumes. He has qualities that wear well. He is first of all a Christian and always a gentleman. He has proved resourceful enough to stand the strain, the changes and the demands of the years. He knows what the people want and gives it to them.

When Mr. Fischer leaves a city all the choirs and congregations uniting in the meetings note the impulse of his splendid work. They want to sing. So a revival in congregational singing takes place. And every local chorus leader knows better how to conduct a chorus and what people like to sing or listen to.

Nature and art have done much for this remarkable man, but the grace of God has done more. And it is noticeable that he never allows his chorus or himself to sing for entertainment or simply to kill time. The motive which dominates Fred Fischer is responsible for the remarkable results, and stands the test of time. For no one is so cordially welcomed wherever he has been than Fischer.

Frederick George Fischer was born at Mendota, Ill., July 11, 1872. His mother, who was a sister of Peter Bilhorn, (of the well known Bilhorn Bros., publishers, Chicago) was burned to death when Fred was a year and a half old. When ten years of age the family moved to Laramie, Wyo. He entered the big moulding works in that city and became an expert mechanic in the bolts and nuts department. At eighteen he was converted in the Baptist church at Laramie, and was awakened to his inheritance, a rare voice, and to his call to a wider service, the evangelistic field. Failing sight forced the diffident young man to mention his ambition to his uncle, Peter Bilhorn, who discovering his nephew possessed a voice worth cultivating, gave Fred every advantage for its cultivation, always with the object in view of using his voice to the glory of God.

After studying voice culture under such masters as F. W. Root, Frank Webster, and W. W. Hinshaw, in Chicago, Mr. Fischer started out on the strength of his Lord’s commission “to sing the gospel to every creature.”

In January, 1900, Mr. Fischer’s chance came. He was ready in all but an adequate wardrobe. And those who have been accustomed to see the always immaculately dressed and groomed musical director since he has been with Mr. Sunday, have no idea of the struggle he had to look decent, nine years ago, when Sunday wired him to take charge at Bedford, Iowa. He split the only coat he had under the arms in his anxiety to make things go, and to show he could “deliver the goods” he knew Sunday wanted. He made good, and has kept on doing so ever since. Mr. Oliver and Fred Fischer are the only musical directors Mr. Sunday has had in his nearly seventeen years of public work.

What there is in his line Mr. Fischer knows by heart. His audiences will do what he asks them because he has a purpose in some of his strange requests. Everything Fischer does leads up to decision and service for Christ. And that is why when the invitation is given, and half his chorus will sometimes leave to work among the undecided, this modest, patient, and loyal gentleman sticks to his post, and the true reason why,—everybody loves Fred Fischer.

Marshalltown, 1909: Home Turf, Hard Numbers, and a Blaze of Glory

April 25 – June 6, 1909
Marshalltown, Iowa

Fresh off a successful campaign in Springfield, Billy Sunday and his team rolled into Marshalltown in late April of 1909. This was not foreign soil. It was home turf.

Sunday had been raised in Iowa, shaped by its churches, and had even lived briefly in Marshalltown in the early 1890s while learning the mechanics of evangelistic work. By 1909 he returned not as an unknown ballplayer-turned-preacher, but as a nationally rising evangelist whose methods were becoming increasingly organized, efficient, and powerful.

Marshalltown was the right kind of proving ground. Large enough to sustain a six-week revival. Small enough to rally around one of its own.

The Setting: A City Poised for Revival

Marshalltown in 1910 had a population of 13,374—a fraction of Springfield’s 51,678. It was a growing industrial town, commercially strong, strategically located, and connected by rail. It was not metropolitan. But it was energetic.

A wooden tabernacle was erected at the corner of Third and Main, seating 5,000. The Sunday machine was now running at full stride.

Opening night—April 25—saw over 12,000 people attend across all services. On the final day, June 6, Sunday preached to 13,200. In a town of just over 13,000 residents, that level of saturation is staggering.

By campaign’s end:

  • 2,000 total conversions (125 on the final day)
  • 84 tabernacle meetings
  • 528 cottage prayer meetings
  • Nearly 200,000 in total attendance

For six weeks, Marshalltown was consumed by revival.

The Money and the Machine

The final purse for Sunday was $6,139.
Total funds raised during the campaign reached $12,894.

For comparison, that purse nearly matched Muscatine’s and approached Ottumwa’s from the previous year. Financially, Marshalltown demonstrated strong committee organization and enthusiastic backing. This was not a struggling campaign.

It was disciplined. Systematic. Mature.

The press block used to print Sunday’s image during this period—now in my collection—reflects that growing sophistication. By 1909, Sunday was no longer improvising revivals. He was executing them.

Did Marshalltown “Underperform”?

One skeptical paper, the Davenport Weekly Democrat and Leader, suggested that Marshalltown’s results did not compare favorably with Fairfield, Ottumwa, Muscatine, and Decatur.

On the surface, that seems correct.

Measured per capita:

  • Marshalltown: ~149 converts per 1,000 residents
  • Fairfield: over 220 per 1,000
  • Muscatine: about 224 per 1,000
  • Decatur: around 200 per 1,000
  • Ottumwa: about 158 per 1,000

In raw totals, Marshalltown trailed Muscatine (3,579–3,612), Ottumwa (3,481), and especially Decatur (6,209).

So yes—the numbers were not dominant.

But numbers alone miss something important.

The Press: Praise and Pushback

The reaction was revealing.

The Audubon Republican declared the meetings closed in a “blaze of glory.” It reported over 500 cottage prayer meetings and said the town had been “thoroughly stirred up.”

The Marshalltown Evening Times-Republican went further, calling Sunday:

  • “One of the splendid prophets of the elder time…”
  • “One of the greatest revivalists in existence.”
  • “One of the plainest, simplest and happiest of men…”

Meanwhile, the skeptical Davenport Weekly Democrat and Leader offered sharper commentary. It described Sunday as a “contortionist of uncommon ability” with “remarkable versatility,” while acknowledging the “magnetic power of Mr. Sunday.”

Its most fascinating observation was psychological:

“The psychology of it all is that the people who are not regular attendants at churches must be reached not as individuals but in mass. They like to be moved by each other; and it is probable that this explains the success Mr. Sunday attains. He is helped greatly by the excitement and the enthusiasm of the crowds…”

That critique reads today like an astute analysis of mass evangelism. It wasn’t merely preaching. It was momentum. Atmosphere. Collective energy.

Sunday understood something about crowds that many pastors did not.

What Marshalltown Really Proved

Marshalltown was not Sunday’s most explosive campaign numerically.

But it demonstrated something perhaps more important in 1909:

  • Massive attendance penetration in a modest city
  • Financial stability and strong committee structure
  • Organizational maturity (over 600 total meetings)
  • National press attention—positive and critical

Marshalltown proved that Sunday could saturate an entire city.

Critics were talking. Admirers were praising. Nearly 200,000 attendances in six weeks ensured that no one in town was untouched by the revival’s presence.

He was no longer just holding meetings.

He was creating civic events.

A Blaze of Glory

The revival closed the way many Sunday campaigns did—intense, loud, emotional, decisive. A blaze of glory.

Marshalltown may not have produced the highest per-capita conversion rate of his Iowa stops. But it stands as a revealing moment in his rise.

Magic lantern slide. Author’s collection.

By 1909, Billy Sunday was refining his method. The tabernacle system was humming. The prayer networks were mobilized. The press was watching closely.

And Iowa—his Iowa—was watching one of its own step onto a larger stage.

Marshalltown mattered because it showed that Sunday’s machine worked not just in isolated bursts, but in sustained, organized, city-wide saturation.

For a hometown son, that was no small thing.

When Springfield Stood Still: Billy Sunday’s 1909 Earthquake

Springfield, Illinois
February 26 – April 11, 1909

In the spring of 1909, something happened in Springfield that people would talk about for decades.

Not a political convention.
Not a legislative battle.
A revival.

For forty-five days, the capital city of Illinois — population 51,678 — was overtaken by a wooden tabernacle, a former professional baseball player turned evangelist, and what many believed was a visitation of God.

By the time it ended, nearly 5,000 people had walked the sawdust trail.

And Springfield would never quite be the same.

The Numbers — and the Scale

The statistics alone are staggering.

  • 4,729 reported conversions
  • 774 converts on the final day alone — the largest single-day total of Sunday’s career to that point
  • 607,000 total attendance over the course of the campaign
  • 35,000+ at the final Sunday service
  • $20,218 in total contributions
    • $10,734 to Sunday
    • $9,483 to campaign expenses

To put this in perspective: Springfield’s population was just over 51,000. Attendance over the campaign equaled more than twelve times the city’s population.

One hundred thousand people attended special weekday meetings.
35,800 participated in cottage prayer meetings.

This was not a tent revival on the fringe of town.

This was the town.

Even Governor Charles Deneen and members of his family were reported among the converts on the closing day, joining First Methodist Episcopal Church . When the governor walks the aisle, you know something seismic is happening.

And yet, remarkably, Billy Sunday himself was reportedly disappointed with the conversion numbers. He believed “personal work was not begun early enough.”

That was Sunday. Five thousand souls, and he still thought the church could have done more.

The Night Billy Was Horsewhipped

The campaign did not begin quietly.

On opening night, in front of 8,000 people, Sunday was assaulted.

A man named Sherman Potts rushed forward with a buggy whip and struck Sunday multiple times. The audience teetered toward panic. Women wept. Children screamed. Sunday leapt from the platform and knocked his assailant down. They rolled in the aisle before ushers and police subdued the attacker.

The papers reported that Potts had previously been declared insane and had been confined at Jacksonville. He claimed he acted in defense of women’s virtue, alleging that Sunday had criticized them.

What could have ended the revival instead amplified it.

Fred Fischer directed the choir to sing, calming the crowd. The meeting continued.

Springfield had just witnessed the kind of drama that headlines love — and revivals sometimes ride.

The “Judgment” Sermon and the Men

On one Sunday afternoon, 8,000 men packed the tabernacle to hear Sunday preach what was described as his “judgment” sermon.

Three hundred men responded.

Sunday’s masculine appeal — direct, confrontational, athletic — was reshaping revival culture. This was not sentimental religion. It was muscular, public, civic.

He preached like a ballplayer sliding into home — coat off, body leaning, words cutting.

And men came.

Mother’s Day: 9,000 White Handkerchiefs

One of the most remarkable moments came on Mother’s Day.

Sunday requested that every person wear a white flower or ribbon in honor of mother. If your mother was alive, do her an act of kindness. Write her. Telegraph her. Give her a gift. If she was gone, do something kind for someone else’s mother.

He invited businessmen to close their stores from 2–4 p.m. and pledged that an offering would go to the Woman’s Club for distribution to city charities.

Then it happened.

Nine thousand white handkerchiefs rose in the air in honor of mothers.

In an era before official federal recognition of Mother’s Day, Springfield became a tableau of white cloth and public gratitude.

It was revival fused with civic virtue. Sunday understood symbolism.

Inclusion: Deaf Mutes and Interpreted Sermons

Another remarkable feature of the campaign was the regular attendance of a large group of deaf men from Jacksonville.

Professor Frank Reed, Jr., of the State School interpreted Sunday’s sermons. Reports indicate that between thirty and forty deaf attendees were converted during the Springfield meetings .

When the offering was taken, the deaf men gave ten dollars — a meaningful sum in 1909. Sunday seized the moment: If men who could not hear a word of what I say were contributing to this extent, what ought some of you fellows down there do who hear it all?

That’s classic Sunday — sharp, public, convicting.

The Ushers, the Machinery, the Organization

Photographs from the campaign show massive ranks of ushers — disciplined, suited, organized.

Springfield was not spontaneous chaos. It was structured revival.

This was the era when Sunday’s campaigns became logistical marvels:

  • Massive wooden tabernacle
  • Coordinated prayer meetings
  • Choirs
  • Personal workers
  • Cottage gatherings
  • Financial accountability

The revival was both spiritual movement and operational achievement.

Sunday was not merely a preacher. He was building a machine.

“A Good and Great Man”

After the campaign, C. C. Sinclair, pastor of Stewart Street Christian Church, offered this assessment:

“A good and great man, mighty in word and in deed; a prophet, and more than a prophet… The church has been purged and strengthened, and Springfield is being turned to God. It is such a revival of religion as comes to a community but once in a generation.”

That language is not casual.

Once in a generation.

Springfield’s churches reported strengthening and purging — language that suggests repentance within the church as much as conversion outside it.

Revival, for Sunday, was not merely altar calls. It was institutional recalibration.

Why Springfield Mattered

Springfield 1909 was a hinge moment.

  • It proved Sunday could sustain massive attendance over weeks.
  • It demonstrated his appeal to political and civic leadership.
  • It showed that controversy could fuel momentum.
  • It fused patriotic symbolism, moral reform, and evangelical urgency.
  • It revealed a revival model scalable to larger cities.
1909 postcard of Springfield, Illinois. Color-corrected. Author’s collection.

In many ways, Springfield was the rehearsal for the metropolitan campaigns to come.

And for a city of 51,000 to generate 607,000 in cumulative attendance? That’s not ordinary religious enthusiasm.

That’s a cultural event.

The Artifact That Survived

I own a 60-page souvenir booklet titled Rev. W. A. Sunday Meetings at Springfield, Illinois (c. 1909). When it arrived in November 2025, the bottom left corner throughout the entire booklet had been ripped away and was missing from the package .

It’s fragile. Imperfect. Scarred.

But so is revival history.

What Springfield experienced in 1909 was messy, dramatic, organized, emotional, public, controversial, generous, patriotic, and deeply evangelical.

It was America before the Great War.

It was Protestant civic religion at full throttle.

It was Billy Sunday in ascent.

And for forty-five days, Springfield stood still —
while thousands walked forward.

Billy Sunday in Spokane (1908–1909): When the Revival Hit the Inland Empire

When Billy Sunday arrived in Spokane on Christmas Day, 1908, expectations were already high—and confusion lingered. Earlier reports had announced a December 20 opening. That date came and went. But on December 25, the Sunday party finally arrived, and Spokane discovered that the delay mattered little. The revival that followed would become one of the most significant religious events in the city’s early twentieth-century history.

Opening night attendance was estimated at 8,000 people, filling the newly constructed tabernacle on Christmas Day. The Spokesman-Review reported the crowd the following morning, setting the tone for what would unfold over the next six weeks .

A City Drawn In

The Spokane campaign officially ran from December 25, 1908, to February 10, 1909. In that span, Sunday recorded 5,666 converts, with the single largest night producing 446 responses. Offerings totaled $15,000 to cover campaign expenses, and Sunday’s personal purse amounted to $10,000—figures that place Spokane among his more successful revivals of the era .

The tabernacle itself had been erected in early December, even before Sunday arrived, and disassembly began almost immediately after the meetings concluded. It was a temporary structure for what proved to be a lasting civic event.

Attendance figures tell only part of the story. According to the Daily Herald, the revival spilled far beyond the tabernacle walls. Hundreds of prayer meetings and semi-public gatherings sprang up across the city. Homes were opened for religious meetings. Crowds swelled so large at times that police were required to control access to the tabernacle. The paper described the total attendance as “hundreds of thousands,” calling some of the gatherings among the largest in Spokane’s history .

Methods, Manhood, and Controversy

Sunday’s style continued to provoke strong reactions—both admiration and criticism. Rev. T. H. Fertig, a Spokane minister, offered one of the most telling assessments in February 1909. He contrasted Sunday with what he saw as the overly academic bent of modern clergy, arguing that Sunday had carried his “manhood” from baseball into the pulpit. Fertig admitted that many of Sunday’s methods were objectionable, but insisted they bore the unmistakable stamp of originality and personal force. Seminary training, he warned, too often erased individuality rather than refining it .

That tension—between polished theology and raw persuasion—was a recurring theme wherever Sunday preached. Spokane proved no exception.

Measurable Impact on Churches

The post-revival accounting offers a rare snapshot of how different congregations interpreted the results.

Some churches reported substantial growth. First Methodist Church received 270 new members, while First Methodist (reported separately in another account) claimed as many as 360. Emmanuel Baptist added 45 converts. First Baptist expected at least 80. Central Christian welcomed approximately 60. Westminster Congregational received 30, and Plymouth Congregational added about 50 new members .

Other responses were more restrained. All Saints Episcopal Church reported 12 new members. Holy Trinity Episcopal Church reported none, with its minister expressing concern about conversions driven by fear rather than conviction. Our Lady of Lourdes likewise expected no new members as a result of the campaign .

The uneven distribution underscores a reality often lost in revival mythology: success was not universally defined, nor universally embraced.

Social and Civic Effects

Beyond church rolls, Spokane newspapers noted broader social effects. One headline captured the contrast succinctly: “Beer Sales Fall. Bibles in Demand.” While such claims invite scrutiny, they reflect how contemporaries interpreted the revival’s moral influence .

Financially, the churches emerged ahead. After expenses were met, including nearly $12,000 in costs and the feeding and sheltering of hundreds of homeless men during a severe cold wave, local churches anticipated a surplus of $2,000 to $3,000. These funds came from post-expense collections and tabernacle bonds that were allowed to lapse in favor of the churches .

The revival also intersected directly with political reform. During the campaign, 110 representative men traveled to Olympia to lobby for a county-unit local-option bill, coinciding with Sunday’s repeated delivery of his fiery “Booze” sermon. For supporters, this fusion of evangelism and activism marked one of the revival’s most consequential achievements .

Did Billy Sunday “Make Good”?

As the meetings drew to a close, Spokane’s press asked the question directly—illustrated in editorial cartoons and front-page reflections. By February 1909, the answer, at least in terms of attendance, conversions, and civic impact, appeared clear.

Spokane did not merely host Billy Sunday. For six winter weeks, it reorganized itself around him. Whether one applauded his methods or questioned them, the revival left behind measurable change, lasting debate, and a vivid example of early twentieth-century evangelical power at its height.

For Billy Sunday, Spokane was another city on a relentless circuit. For Spokane, it was a season that reshaped its religious and moral landscape—if only for a time.

Mother’s Day, 1909

ONE of the most impressive and successful days in the great campaign was Mother’s Day, as suggested by Rev. Mr. Sunday. The following request was published:

Every person is requested to wear a white flower or ribbon to-day in honor of mother. If your mother is alive do her an act of kindness. Telegraph or write to her, or give her a gift to express your love. If mother is not alive, perform an act of kindness to somebody else’s mother. The services at the tabernacle will be for mothers, although everybody is invited. Businessmen are invited to close their places of business from two to four o’clock, or at least to let as many employees off as possible. An offering will be taken at the tabernacle to be given to the Woman’s Club to be distributed to the charities of the city as the club deems best.

 W. A. Sunday

Source (text above): 1909 Springfield, Illinois souvenir booklet

Who is Billy Sunday c. 1909

The Billy Sunday campaign published a souvenir booklet in 1910 that summarized the Springfield, Illinois campaign (Feb 26 – Apr 12, 1909). The following narrative shared much about the Rev. William A. ‘Billy’ Sunday

Rev. W. A. Sunday

WILLIAM ASHLEY SUNDAY is the best beloved and the most abused, the simplest and the most misunderstood, the most soulful and the most like a vaudeville performer, the most powerful in oratory and the least appealing to the emotions, the most persuasive and the most controversial, the most scholarly and the plainest, not to say coarsest, the greatest poet in essence and the greatest scrapper, of any man on the forum, the platform, or the stage of the world today.

He has been styled, the polygonal preacher, because he has so many sides, each a complete, finished, forceful fact. A character picture of the man, to be complete, must be a description of each of these baker’s dozen sides of his personality, none of which is much more important than any other one. The most that can be done within a small space—or indeed within any limitation of space—is to sketch in broad lines the mere outlines of this evangelist who is preaching the gospel of peace on earth and fighting the devil with the hottest of fire at the same time.

His father was killed in the civil war. The little boy was sent to the Iowa home for soldiers’ orphans. Later he made his own living at a youthful age, and his school teacher of that time says she would often watch him on the playground and wonder whether he would be the greatest crook or the greatest power for good in America—she was even then sure he would be one of the two. The boy took the right hand road.

When a young man he was a locomotive fireman on the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad and lived at Marshalltown. This was also the home of the famous A. C. Anson, captain of the old Chicagos, who watched Billy Sunday play baseball on corner lots while at home in Marshalltown. Anson took him to Chicago, discovered in him a great baseball player, and Sunday held the record for base running for years, a record which he still holds; was the second man chosen on the All-American team to tour the world—an accident to his knee kept him from making the tour—and was a popular idol of the fans.

An old time catcher for the Louisville team says that in those days when en route the rest of the men would play poker in the Pullman, but Billy Sunday was always back on the cushions with a book. He has kept close to books ever since. He has a remarkable faculty of choosing the very best and most authoritative writing on any particular subject and reading that only—and hence the range of subjects upon which he is thoroughly and accurately informed, includes almost everything from histology to astronomy and from bacteriology to history—it is a little interesting to notice that chemistry is the one topic unmentioned in his sermons. Three medical college professors who met at the end of his sermon which includes a half hour of the deepest microscopical pathology, agreed that William A. Sunday is the only layman they ever heard or read who was accurate in all he said about medical science.

One night a bunch of baseball players strolling along a Chicago street ran into a curbstone evangelist and stopped to be amused. Sunday stayed after the others went on. He went from there to the Pacific Garden mission, where he was converted. He kept on playing baseball, and nobody who ever heard it will ever forget his own description of how the others of that famous Chicago team approved his home run into Christianity.

A little later he was employed by the Chicago Young Men’s Christian Association at a small salary, only part of it paid during the panic of 1893, and refusing offers of $500 a month to return to the diamond. As a part of his work, he addressed groups of men—he always did know men, because of his early life and hard struggles. The addresses became longer and stronger with the growth of the work and experience in it. That great evangelist, Wilbur F. Chapman, took Sunday away from the Chicago Y.M.C.A. to be his assistant. Sunday learned the art of evangelizing and after learning it thoroughly treated it as Napoleon treated the art of war—he re-made it for himself, so that its old practitioners hardly recognize it, and at the same time made it produce victories hitherto undreamed of. The William A. Sunday methods of campaigning for Christ are unlike any others; they include the best of those of the past and many things unique; probably only Sunday could use them successfully in all their details; but it seems certain that they have factors not found in most others which really are the corner stones of successful work in evangelism. Some of the chief parts of the art of evangelism, as practiced by William A. Sunday, are these: Absolute accuracy in every statement made, whether one of the essential parts of the argument, or merely an illustration; hew close to the line that Jesus Christ laid down, regardless of the falling chips, and wherever that line leads; use language that everybody can understand, never talk down to an audience, but be lucid to the most ignorant while you are talking up to the most scholarly persons before you; avoid sectarianism; demand united work from all the evangelical churches in the city, and push united work by all the members of those churches; roast the skin of vice and sin in all its forms, from backsliding and carelessness to murder and adultery, rub salt into the burnt flesh, and then apply a healing balm that causes the object of the criticism to leave the tabernacle chastened in spirit, but loving the rod that smote him; avoid all fads and fancies, all tangential movements of society, but do a common thing in a most unusual way; and—many others. Starting with small towns and a few hundred converts at each series of meetings, the same plan of campaign has been used for all the years involving campaigns in cities of all sizes, and the first meetings years ago were, so far as Mr. Sunday is concerned, almost exactly like the meetings in Springfield. Of course, some minor modifications have been made, but these are few. Always there are the first sermons to get the church members back out of the world into the influence of Christ and to get the public to come to the tabernacle—the public seems to find its greatest attraction in hearing church-member hypocrites and Pharisees skinned like eels. Always the strenuosity of the sermons almost imperceptibly lessens gradually until the preacher who preaches as man never preached before is less athletic and more rhetorical about the middle of the series. Then, to the amazement of people who judged the man from his first pulpit stunts, the Reverend William Ashley Sunday preaches like the great orator that he is, the scholar that he is, the poet-philosopher that he is. This many sided man cannot be even sketched within a hundred pages. There is competent authority for saying of him these superlatives as being strictly true: He understands the minds and feelings of men as few men ever have done. He is one of the greatest orators the world has ever seen—and this is proved by the results of his work.

He is one of the most remarkable stylists in literature, his perfect imitation in one hour of the styles of Carlyle, Gibbon, Ingersoll, and several other writers of individual styles being an unprecedented feat.

He is said by scientists to be the most—and indeed the only—perfectly accurate preacher in matters of science. And a large part of his sermons deal with science.

He appeals entirely to the reason of the people, and rarely or never to their emotions, and in this he is the greatest of evangelists in the opinion of many people.

In numbers of converts, dramatic height of scenes, and wonderful stirring of the audience, several of his meetings have eclipsed anything in the history of evangelism since pentecost—and the most of these have been meetings for men.

Who is Hellen ‘Ma’ Sunday? c. 1909

The following is a biographical sketch of Helen Sunday, wife of Billy Sunday. Part of the 1909 Springfield campaign souvenir.

Mrs. W. A. Sunday

THE biographer who omits to study the wife of his subject certainly will miss the key to his problem of investigation. The world talks of the influence of the mothers upon its men; but it, curiously enough, generally omits appreciation of the strong influence of the wife upon any man; and perhaps more men have been made and unmade by their wives than by their mothers, when heredity is omitted from the matter.

Mrs. William A. Sunday was a girl of great strength of character when she was Miss Helen A. Thompson, the daughter of a Chicago business man. She married a famous baseball player and found herself the wife of one of the greatest of evangelists—and she not only made the revolutionary change with him but is one of the chief causes of William A. Sunday being what he is in the eyes of the world. She was a church worker, a shining exception to the rule of the results of marrying a man to make him better. She upheld the hands of her husband when he was in poverty and the poorly paid worker of the Chicago Y.M.C.A., writing letters declining, for seven times his salary, to return to the baseball field. When William A. Sunday was starting out as an evangelist along entirely new lines of endeavor which merged into In his entirely unprecedented lines of achievement, his wife helped greatly to keep up his courage, keep him along the line he had chosen, and keep him as much as possible free from worries. Mrs. Sunday complements her husband perfectly—they are not at all similar, and she is strongest where he is weakest and weakest where he is strongest. If he had a helpmeet like himself, Mr. Sunday might be plunging into hot water every month and every year. Luckily for him, his wife guides him around and over most obstacles, keeps his fingers out of the fire, and does what Mr. Sunday never thinks of doing—looks after his own interests.

The wedding of Mr. and Mrs. William A. Sunday was not the kind one finds pictured in Paul and Virginia by any manner of means; it was a twentieth-century marriage of two distinct individuals joining as helpmeets, without either submerging a personality in the other—certainly not the old kind of entire submergence of the wife in the husband. They disagree about as many things as other people do, but each knows in what things the other is best informed or strongest, and the one best qualified always decides the question. The result is that they are more free from actual, important disagreements—the kind called love spats or marital troubles—than most people. This is a match of brains as well as of hearts, of sense as well as of souls, and of respect as well as of love.

Mrs. Sunday does what she can in public during a series of meetings conducted by her husband, but the most important thing she does is to keep her husband able to do the great things he accomplishes in every city in which he works. She is a perfect wife for a very remarkable man.

“BILLY” SUNDAY ASSAULTED.


Page 2 of The Britt News, published in Britt, Iowa on Thursday, March 4th, 1909
Horsewhipped by Religious Zealot at Springfield.

Rev W. A. Sunday, better known as “Billy” Sunday, a former baseball player, who is now an evangelist, was horsewhipped Friday night by a religious fanatic at the Sunday tabernacle in Springfield, Ill., where, in the presence of 8,000 persons he was conducting the opening meeting of a religious revival.

The evangelist had just made his opening remarks and was leaning against the pulpit while a hymn was sung by Fischer and Butler, his choral leaders, when a powerful man who says his name is Sherman Potts ran forward with a buggy whip and struck Sunday several terrific blows.

Sunday leaped from the platform and dashed at his assailant, whom he knocked down. The audience was on the verge of a panic, with women weeping and children screaming while Potts and Sunday rolled and tumbled in the aisle.

Mr Fischer directed the choir and the audience to sing, and in a few moments the entire audience was calmed Several men seized Potts and held him until policemen came and took him to jail.

Mr Sunday suffered several painful bruises from the whip The prisoner said his home was near Lexington, Ill According to his statements at the jail he was once declared insane and committed to the Jacksonville asylum, whence after a brief confinement he was released.

He made the attack he said, in defense of the virtue of women which he declared had been criticized by the evangelist The police say that Potts is a religious fanatic.

  • Page 2 of The Britt News, published in Britt, Iowa on Thursday, March 4th, 1909.

The Billy Sunday Party, C. 1909 – Marshalltown, Iowa

Billy Sunday Comes to Marshalltown (April–May 1909)

In the spring of 1909, Marshalltown, Iowa was transformed into a revival center that drew crowds from across the region and left a lasting mark on the community.

Billy Sunday’s campaign ran from April 25 through May 29, 1909, with the tabernacle standing as the visible heart of the movement. The vast wooden structure dominated the landscape, and every night it filled with singing, testimony, and Sunday’s electrifying preaching.

The opening night on Sunday, April 25 set an extraordinary tone.

Newspapers reported that 12,000 people attended the very first day, even though the tabernacle’s seating capacity was only 5,000. The crowd spilled out around the building, filling the grounds, streets, and nearby areas. Trains brought visitors in, local families rearranged schedules, and the entire town seemed to pulse with anticipation.

Sunday’s preaching style was unmistakable: plain-spoken, forceful, and vividly illustrated. He mixed humor, athletic imagery, moral urgency, and heartfelt appeals for personal decision, holding massive audiences in rapt attention night after night.

The campaign did not slow down.

By the final day on May 29, Sunday preached to 13,200 people, an even larger crowd than opening night. That evening, 125 people walked the “sawdust trail,” publicly committing their lives to Christ.

But the revival was far more than a handful of large meetings.

According to newspaper accounts, there were 84 separate services held inside the tabernacle alone. Beyond that, the spiritual energy of the campaign spilled into the wider city: another 528 meetings took place in churches, homes, schools, and gathering places throughout Marshalltown.

The numbers are staggering for a town of its size.

Total attendance across the six weeks reached 199,300 people. This figure included repeated attendance by many locals as well as visitors from surrounding towns and counties.

Total collections for the campaign amounted to 12,894 dollars — a substantial sum in 1909. From this, Billy Sunday personally received 6,500 dollars for himself and his team, with the rest covering the costs of running such a massive operation.

Newspapers also reported that approximately 2,000 people made professions of faith over the course of the campaign. Local pastors later testified that many of these converts joined churches and became active participants in community life.

Marshalltown formally closed the revival on June 6, according to the Freeport Weekly Standard, marking the end of one of the most intense religious seasons the city had ever experienced.

What makes Marshalltown especially significant in the story of Billy Sunday is not just the scale of attendance, but the depth of community involvement. This was not a series of isolated sermons; it was a town-wide movement that reshaped schedules, united churches, and focused public attention on moral and spiritual questions for weeks at a time.

For six remarkable weeks in 1909, Marshalltown was not simply an Iowa town — it was a crossroads where tens of thousands encountered the passionate message of America’s most famous evangelist.

Long after the tabernacle came down, people remembered that spring as a moment when their city stood at the center of something larger than itself.