Now, read the story of a bell — A most special bell — A quite Moravian bell. A bell which arrived on Church Square in Lititz way back in the very middle of the 19th century, fell from its honored position atop the church 107 years later and, instead of being discarded, was made over into many miniature bells which today continue to ring their way into hearts and homes of those eager for a bit of historic Moraviana.
In July of 1850, a prominent Lititz merchant and Moravian churchman — once a member of the state legislature — died. Samuel Grosh was his name. He lived on the northwest corner of Church Square, having built the splendid red brick house, now a church rental property. His oil portrait and that of his wife hang in the congregation's museum and are fine examples of early 19th-centry American primitive portraiture.
Brother Grosh's will left a sum of $100 to be applied toward the purchase of a new, larger bell for the church belfry, that elegant piece designed in 1786 by the noted 18th-century Lititz Moravian organ builder, Brother David Tannenberg. The 1850 diary of Bishop Peter Wolle, pastor of the Lititz congregation at that time, notes that on August 21, Gemeinrath (Church Council) authorized the purchase of a 600 pound bell from the Meneely Bell Foundry in West Troy, New York. Wolle records that the bell came to Lititz and "was brought to its place on the steeple" on October 14; and on Sunday, October 20, "the new bell was rang at its proper place." Here, it tolled the hours daily while its smaller, older companion rang the quarters.
At the time of the bell's arrival, Lititz was still a closed congregation-town, exclusively for Moravians. If one was not a Moravian, one could not live in Lititz. But in 1855, all of this changed. Lititz was the last of the Moravian settlement towns in America to discard the ancient lease system; thereafter, anyone was free to establish housekeeping and business in Lititz. And so, the bell witnessed this drastic transformation which resulted in trauma for some and jubilation for others.
Our bell saw the young men, who harkened to its sound, go off to four battles: the Civil War, the First and Second World Wars and the Korean War. One somehow knows that, during World War 2, each Lititz Moravian boy in uniform, celebrating Christmas as best he could far from home, remembered the bell's rich tone as he opened the little package sent him by the good Moravian ladies back home at the church in Lititz; a package which unfolded to reveal two little beeswax Xmas candles in their white paper ruffs — one for himself and one for his buddy.
Came the mid-20th century and the bell was to perish in a tragic conflagration, only to rise again, phoenix-like, from the ashes. The Rev. Dr. Byron K. Horne, then Headmaster of Linden Hall School for Girls, described the day thus:
“Tuesday, July 2, 1957, was a warm day. The atmosphere in Lititz was quiet and peaceful. Most of the industries were closed for the annual week of vacation over July 4th. Many families were out of town, some camping in state parks, others on trips. Those who remained at home engaged in the usual vacation-time activities.
“Shortly before one o'clock, the quiet and peace of the community were pierced by the fire alarm, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the awesome news had spread across town that the Moravian Church was on fire. The smoke that began to appear over the area on East Main Street confirmed the news and indicated that the fire was extensive.
“Painters had been removing century-old paint from the outside of the church. To make their work easier, they had used blow torches to soften the many coats of paint they encountered. In using the torches, they had been cautioned by the sexton of the church and others as to the risk involved. That fateful Tuesday, the painters went to lunch, and before they returned, a young man employed at Linden Hall, while passing the church, saw smoke and flames rising from under the eaves. In a matter of minutes, fire companies with their equipment from Manheim and Rothsville joined the Lititz company in an effort to contain the flames. These companies were later joined by a ladder unit from Lancaster.
“An unfortunate drop in the water pressure of the community system handicapped the fire companies and allowed the fire to spread through the mud and straw plaster of the ceiling of the historic structure.
“In a matter of minutes, the flames had spread to the adjoining parsonage and engulfed the entire third floor of that building. A westerly wind, which later became northerly, saved the Brothers House and Fellowship Hall to the west and the buildings of Linden Hall immediately to the east.
“While the fire raged on the floor above them, many townspeople, later joined by a bus-load of tourists, removed all of the loose furniture from the church, and all of the furniture as well as the belongings of the pastor and his wife (their being in Canada on vacation at the time) from the parsonage.
“When the flames were finally brought under control hours later, the church was gutted and the upper floors of the parsonage were in ruins. Fortunately, the walls of both structures were not weakened and the windows of the church, as by a miracle, were unharmed.
“While, after that fateful July day in 1957, some time passed before the church and parsonage were again available, it was with a feeling of deep gratitude and a greater appreciation of our sanctuary, and its appointments, that the congregation returned to its accustomed place of worship, a restored church.”
With the collapse of the church roof, the Tannenberg-designed steeple, and the bells with it, fell to the church floor in ruins. In April 1958 the congregation voted in special council to replace them with new bells rather than attempting a recasting. Records of the smaller bell remain a matter for additional research. The story of the Grosh bell, however, continues.
Ah, but no! In succeeding months, single Sister Martha Sturgis — at the urging of her brother, Edgar — conferred with the congregation's Head Sacristan, Brother Alfred Douple, concerning a unique project which would preserve the old bell. Brother Douple offered the suggestion to the Dieners Corps; and through the grace and vision of this carefully selected group of dedicated church-servants, the old bell was "saved" by shipping it to Bevin Bros. Manufacturing Company in East Hampton, Connecticut, where it was melted down, with the resulting bell metal cast into a series of small hand-bells of tea table size. 1,000 bells were ordered in two separate lots of 500 each. Molded with the inscription, Lititz Moravian Bell 1787-1957, the bells sold for $3.00 to both Moravians and non-Moravians alike, for the dear old church occupied a tender spot in the hearts of a countless multitude beyond the Moravian brotherhood, many of whom remembered warmly treasured moments of the unforgettable Christmas Eve lovefeasts and those long, gray Easter dawn processions to God's Acre ‘mid the blare of trombones.
The sale of the bells enabled the Dieners (servers) to equip the Preparation Room (formerly the Old Chapel) as a new lovefeast kitchen, replacing the far older one in the cellar below where, until that unfortunate fire of 1957, the lovefeast coffee had always been brewed in that great copper kettle which still hangs there in the fireplace whose chimney siphoned off the smoke of many a cord of wood offered up in the name of brotherly love. Now, however, the mere mention of the word fire chilled a Lititz Moravian's heart and all possible precautions were taken so that the like should never again occur. A live flame in the old lovefeast kitchen simply would no longer be trusted or tolerated. Quite obviously, then, the old bell’s offspring performed an honorable mission in removing that danger.
Thereafter, when visiting in Lititz homes, one almost invariably encountered the ubiquitous little Moravian bell peering out from behind a cupboard's glass door, perched high on a knick-knack shelf or standing within reach on a chair-side table. And, save for a quick mental return to that disastrous summer fire, one thought little more about it.
Well! Before too long, the little bells began to appear occasionally in auction sales of deceased Moravians' effects and one could be had for a few dollars. In early 1972, this writer left a bid of $15 for his late aunt's bell, but without success; that particular piece was sold for $35, which price was thought rather high. Not so! The going figure soon spiraled to $60 and then to $90. Then came a lull, like that ominous stillness just before the break of a mid-summer thunder-gust. And break it did!
In early summer of 1977, Sister Lorraine Sweitzer listed a Moravian bell in her public sale of household goods. Gasps of astonishment and murmurs of disbelief chased through the crowd as the little bell was awarded to the highest bidder for $165! This notable event was the talk of the town for days afterward. Ah, but all this was mere child's play compared with that which was soon to follow. In mid-July, Sister Esther Wert's bell found a new home to the tune of $230. A few days later, Behold! The Dr. Richard Landes bell caused spirited bidding to soar to $500!!!
By now, Lititz Moravians, some of whom own several of the coveted specimens, are viewing their bells in a new light — and moving them to higher ground. And it is the sad plight of the congregation's museum to possess not one single example of this desirable commemorative piece. Such are the vagaries of time, of fortune, of circumstance, of taste.
Today, the reconstructed church is crowned by a nobly conceived adaptation of the original Tannenberg belfry housing two new bells from the I. T. Verdin Co., Cincinnati, OH. Yet, the old bell of 1850 does ring on, and bids fair to add increasing luster — and notoriety! — to its already long and storied career.
by Dr. Byron K. Horne, CSJ, Spring 1977, and Wayne B. LeFevre, CSJ, Autumn 1977.
Editors’ Notes: Dr. Byron Horne, quoted in this story, was present in Lititz at the time of the fire and gives an eye witness account. Photos accompanying the story are (1) two souvenir bells, now in the Archives Museum; and (2) the fallen Grosh bell, pulled from the ashes and stored in the church parking lot pending a decision on its fate.
The little Lititz bell has indeed traveled far and wide. One such bell now resides in the permanent collection of the Fairfield Museum, located near Thamesville, Ontario. It is presumed that Bishop Carl Helmich, pastor at the time of the fire, and who had family in Ontario, was the one who made this generous donation.
The small bells still occasionally appear at auction, usually as part of an estate sale. Prices have varied over the years, sometimes reaching as high as $600.00.
Additionally, the Lititz Moravian Archives and Museum now owns two of the bells. They are on display in the northwest room, less than a stone’s throw from where the original bell had hung in the steeple.
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