I was baptized at First Baptist Church of Bellflower in the spring of 1948, shortly before my 11th birthday, by Rev. Ernest Hasselblad -- everyone just called him Ernie. He was a red-headed Swede. He was educated at Bethel College and Seminary in Minneapolis/St. Paul. I thought he was a pretty old man, but as I checked my Google today, I find that he was only in his mid forties. My, how perspective changes when a person gets a little older. Yes, Ernie was my ideal of a pastor and he helped to keep me out of that belly of a whale for my teen years. Why was he my ideal? Well, here is my perception of him.
There are two basic stories that contribute to my picture of pastor Hasselblad. First, was the state of my family. It was either late 1950 or early 1951 when my dad left home. It was a very traumatic action. My mother was devastated. For months, she really did nothing. Many times I would come home from school and find her laying on the floor and crying. I didn't know what to do. We didn't eat at home during these months, but went out to eat every evening. We did have the finances to do this at the time because my dad was providing for us. Even though I didn't understand what was happening, it was the ministry of Ernie and the rest of the church that began to bring healing into my mother's life. When my dad's financial generosity began to dry up, mom needed work. She tried working in retail, but this was rough on her -- then she was offered the job of pastor's secretary at the church. She made the princely sum of $40 per week. Not awful for the time, but not really enough even then. She really loved the Hasselblads. They were a very caring family.
Now, back to Bellflower in the early 1950's. One other important person in the story of my admiration of Ernie Hasselblad must be introduced; Wayne Hopson. Wayne was one of my best friends. We met at the church., Our mothers were friends and both Wayne and I had fathers that deserted us. We didn't really know it but we really missed having fathers. This is where Ernie comes in. When things would happen to us (and they seemed to on a regular basis), we were always reluctant to call our mothers. We would always call Ernie and he always took care of us. I will never forget this.
You are probably wondering what kind of thing I mean -- no we didn't need to get bailed out of jail, it was much simpler -- but just as intrusive to his life. Wayne and I didn't have our own cars, we had to drive our mother's cars. They were older and unreliable. They did break down occasionally (we also ran out of gas occasionally -- after all gas was 20 cents a gallon). When this would happen -- Ernie to the rescue. I also have to explain a little of the history of the LA area in those days. There were no storm drains. The streets were the storm drains. Major intersections were always completely flooded. The street on which I lived would be water from front porch across the street to our front porch -- you couldn't see the road, curbs or sidewalks. Driving was an adventure. When you went through a flooded intersection, you shifted into low gear, kept one foot on the clutch and raced the engine -- to keep it from stalling. Once you were through that intersection, you kept one foot on the brakes to dry them out before going through the next one. Sometimes, you got flooded out! I remember one night leaving Wayne in the car, flooded out, and hiking to Ernie's house. He came out in the rain -- pushed our car to a safe place and got us home. Not in a normal pastor's job description.
I don't remember whether his preaching was good or not. I certainly don't know whether he was a good administrator or not. Counseling skills? I don't know. I do know that he was a man who cared for a couple of teenage boys without fathers that got into jams and didn't know what to do. I thought then that this was the kind of man I wanted to be when I grew up.When I became a pastor, I remembered Ernie Hasselblad, and said to myself that this was the kind of pastor I want to be. I still want to be that kind of man.
