Notes on Two Hundred Years (and More)
by Douglas H. Parkhurst
Continued from April 2026…
Last month this writer shared memories of growing up in the Danbury UU church (now the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Danbury) during the 1950s and 60s. In this month’s article I will continue and conclude this reminiscence.
When I was in second or third grade a modern Sunday school facility was constructed in the basement of the church at 347 Main Street. Built in the early 1890s, this building had been home to the Danbury Universalists for more than sixty years. One day my father took me down to the church basement to see what it looked like before work on the new Sunday School began. To my young eyes, it was kind of spooky, damp and dark, with a few bulbs on the ceiling to light the space. There was a dirt floor, muddy in places, and planks to walk on so as not to soil your shoes.
When completed the new Sunday School consisted of perhaps a half-dozen classrooms, some storage space for supplies, and a large room used as a children’s chapel. The area was well lit, and had a modern floor, so no worries about tracking dirt upstairs. And it was no longer scary! The classrooms were equipped with tables and chairs and a bookcase or two. The chapel had a large wrought iron table with a wooden top and there were benches for the children to sit on. This table has been stored in the basement of the house at 24 Clapboard Ridge Road and a few of the benches are now stacked and used as shelves in the “cage” area there.
The children would go to the chapel in groups for age-appropriate worship services during their church school class time. The chapel was equipped with a piano and we sang songs and hymns. I remember singing “Dona Nobis Pacem” over and over as a round, but no one seemed to know what the words meant. In class we learned about the ancient Hebrews and Egypt, the pharaohs and Akhenaten and the Sun God. We also had lessons about how religion relates to universal themes and science. I have a vivid memory of being asked one day by several playmates in my neighborhood what I was learning about in “my” Sunday School. I replied “how magnets and magnetism work.” My friends could not believe this and it was the first time I realized that in some ways Unitarian Universalists take a different approach.
On holidays, special occasions, and on Sunday mornings when church school classes were not conducted, many children would attend services with their families. We took home palms distributed on Palm Sunday and each child received a potted red geranium to mark Children’s Sunday in June. June was also the time for the end of the year church picnics. The property at 347 Main Street was a city lot and in close proximity to the railroad tracks curving beyond the rear yard and parking area. There was not much space for any large-scale group outdoor activities. However, the tracks were a great attraction to the children of the church. Many times our parents and other adults warned us to stay away from them; despite such warnings we “had to” inspect them up close. Maybe even a train would pass by!
Church picnics were held elsewhere, sometimes at Squantz Pond in New Fairfield or Putnam Park in Redding. I remember one picnic at a beach on the Sound in Fairfield. Squantz Pond had a large grassy area and was great for swimming; I don’t recall it being as crowded on a summer Sunday afternoon as it might be today. Putnam Park had places to picnic and swim, lots of history, and rocks to climb over and caves to climb in and through.
Another attraction to children was the old church’s tower and steeple. This structure was at the southwest corner of the front of the building and is prominent in old photos. There was a stairway inside the tower leading up to an open-air balcony or porch under the steeple. Access to these stairs was in the back of the auditorium near the front door. One day a group of children was escorted up this narrow staircase to take a look. I started the climb up, but the stairs were too narrow and steep for me. I backed down and never did make it to the top.
The first minister I remember was Rev. Frederick Harrison. I was fascinated by the clerical collar he wore. Rev. Harrison left us to become superintendent of Universalist Churches in Connecticut and Massachusetts. Next came Rev. Gaston Carrier. Energetic and popular, Rev. Carrier regularly attracted newcomers to the church, many of whom signed the membership book. Both of these ministers came from settlements in Massachusetts. Rev. Carrier was followed by Rev. Byron Kelham, who came from the western United States. The last minister at 347 Main Street was Rev. Ralph Bailey, who arrived in 1965, just before the Danbury Universalists and the Ridgefield Unitarians merged. He was with the congregation through its move to rental quarters in 1966 to the acquisition of its new permanent home in West Redding in 1970. The temporary quarters included a couple of years at the former Connecticut Inn just off route 7 in Danbury’s Starrs Plain. For a time I attended the Liberal Religious Youth (LRY) program there, but the activities did not particularly interest me and I dropped out.
A favorite childhood memory involves Adelaide Grabert, the long-time organist and choir director at the Danbury church. My mother had musical ambitions for me and sincerely wanted me to learn to play the piano. I recall arriving early on a Sunday morning and sitting in a pew listening to and watching Miss Grabert warm up on the church organ. When she finished, my mother walked me up front and the ladies sat me down on the bench next to Miss Grabert, who proceeded to show me how the various keys and stops worked (my legs were too short to reach the pedals) and to play the scale. Unfortunately, Miss Grabert’s talent and my mother’s ambition for me did not rub off, and despite piano lessons later, I never became much of a musician.
I will conclude here. My memories of the people and happenings at the church at 347 Main Street remain strong. In these two articles I have tried to provide some flavor of the congregation at mid-twentieth century as experienced by a child who was a small part of it.