Below is the unedited text of The History of the Cathedral Domain in the Diocese of Lexington, by William Moody

Why Do We Have a Cathedral Domain?

(Taken from an Address given by Bishop Moody in the Cathedral on Saint George's Day, 1967, to a Congregation of Seven hundred people gathered there for the Patronal Festival.)

Saint Mark tells us (Chapter 6, verse 31) that Jesus said to His Disciples, "Come ye apart into a desert place and rest a while.” In the time in which the King James' Version of the Bible was completed the words "a desert place carried a different meaning from that which it has for us today.  We think of a "desert" as a place where few things grow, but when the King James' Version was prepared it meant "a place out in the country, away from the pressures of city life.” So, let us translate the text that way, and understand better what Jesus was saying to His disciples,—"Come with me out into the country and be refreshed"

Now, it is this which our Cathedral Domain represents.  This is a place where Christian people young and old may come away from the worries and pressures of everyday life, and learn to understand God better, and have a chance to feel His Presence.  This can be a healing and refreshing thing for us all.

A great number of people in America today want to "get away into the country and be refreshed.” The roads are full of cars going to this place or that, both in summer and winter.  National Parks and State Parks have excellent accommodations (if you are lucky enough to find room) and they are filled, not just with thousands or hundreds of thousands, but with millions of persons every summer.  Read about this, and like me you will be amazed at the great and constantly increasing pressure on our National and State Parks throughout the nation.

What is it that this Cathedral Domain has which our public parks do not have? Many National and State parks have better buildings, and better roads, and organized entertainment.  They have tax-money out of which to provide these things.  And I am glad that these facilities exist.  I do not begrudge any part of my taxes which helps to pay for them.   I am happy about it.  But there is a special feeling which I have for this Cathedral Domain.   Here people may come to refresh themselves, not just in the beauties of the forest and countryside, not just in the companionship of their human acquaintances and friends,—(although this is important),— but to refresh themselves in the Christian Faith, and in the Fellowship of the Spirit of God, the Creator.

Let us look again at our text: Jesus said, "Come apart into the country and be refreshed.”

When we consider it we see that it is a personal invitation.  He is saying, "Come apart with me and be refreshed.” It is He who offers the invitation "Come!" And so it is here; and that is what makes this Cathedral Domain different and special.

People come here to be with Him, and to learn from Him, and to be helped by Him.  It is a more intimate contact than, usually, can take place at home, where,—as St. Mark's Gospel puts-it,— "many were coming and going, and they had no leisure.”

Many who, through the years, have been here in this place in the country, for a youth Conference, or for a Retreat, or for some other time apart, will testify that the Holy Spirit of Jesus is here, and that His power is here, to touch and change lives, to heal where healing is needed, to give knowledge where knowledge is needed, to give joy, on the one hand, and comfort on the other.

Young people come here to learn about the Faith of the Church, and, while they learn, to have fun, as young people should.  Older people also come here to learn, and, often, to think, to spread out some problem for God's help, to have some old wound of the spirit healed by God's grace.

I can testify out of my own observation and experience how many lives have been changed here.  I got a letter not long ago from a young man who, as a teenager, found his life's work here, found it almost without realizing it at the time.  He learned here how best to serve his fellow men, not as a preacher nor as a doctor, but as a soil conservationist.  I could go over this story in many lives known to me showing the influence of this place and illustrating the mighty power of God.  People have been healed here both in body and in soul.

Now, these things might have happened in another situation.  They might have happened at home, or in a crowded city street; but they are not so apt to happen there because in so many places today "where many are coming and going, they have no leisure, no, not so much as to eat.” These things did happen here, because here there is time for it, and because this place is designed to be a Christian place.

"Come with me," said Jesus, "into a country place and be refreshed.” And those who followed Him were trying earnestly to learn from Him and to learn together.  It was the purpose for which they came put, as much as anything else, which made the difference.  Without realizing it, at that point in their life, they had already become a Christian community.  They had made the physical act of going out to be with Jesus, the Master, and they had done it together.

St. Peter, when Jesus said "Come," did not say,—"I am a commercial fisherman, and my boat is ready, and I must go out to work on the lake tomorrow.” ' St. Matthew did not say, "I have a job at the tax office, and I must be there, so I cannot come.” So it was with them all who went out with Him at His invitation.  Each one of that group of men could have thought of a good, perfectly valid excuse, for not going out with Jesus.  So, you see, they had to make a choice, a decision, just as you had to make a choice about coming here today.  For many of you it was not easy to make it here today.  When Jesus said,—"Come with me into a country place and be refreshed," His disciples had to make a decision.  They said, "Yes, I will come!" and they went with Him, and they were refreshed.

As I was preparing this address I read over the three Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke.  And I was struck, all over again, how many times Jesus said to His disciples, "Come with me into a country place.” Just when things seemed to be busiest, just when people seemed to need Him most, and were crowding around him asking to be helped, to be healed, asking to learn, just then we are apt to hear him say, "Let us put all this aside for a little while, and go out into the country so that we may be refreshed.” And if you will read the Gospels with care, you will find that one of the chief things He went out there to do was to pray to His Heavenly Father.  And to pray together with this newly-formed Christian community of His, these Disciples whom He had chosen.  So, today, one of the chief things which we do, as we gather here in His Name, is to pray together to God our Heavenly Father.

So many things are happening here today, and so many of us come from far, and have far to go to reach home, that the main reason we came may be a bit obscured.  We came to have fun, and we are having it, we came to enjoy the Domain, and we are enjoying it, but, above all and beyond all, we came to worship our God, and to pray to Him, together, as a family, His family the Church, and to enjoy Him! We came to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

"Come with me," said Jesus, "out into a country place, and be refreshed!"

Nobody who ever lived had a higher appreciation of the beauties of nature than Jesus had.  The Gospels are full of references which He made to the flowers, the birds, the trees, the seasons.  Much of the vividness and life which is to be found in His parables comes from his knowledge of nature and His love of natural things.  He tells us about the farmer, about the orchard keeper, about the vine-keeper.  But He did not go out into the countryside just to see these things for themselves alone.  He knew who created these things, this vivid, wonderful world, and He went out to refresh Himself in communion with God, the Father, the Creator.  And He says to us "Come with me and be refreshed.”

God who created, is able to re-create. This is what is hidden at the heart of our word "recreation.” It is re-creation,—to make new again,—and only God can do that! So many people tend to leave God out of their recreation. When that happens recreation is perverted and becomes something else. It becomes self-gratification when God is left out, and sometimes it may become self-destruction.” Come with me" said Jesus, "and be re-created! And He means it! And He has the power to do it!

May you have a Blessing from this day! May you have joy and gladness here at our Cathedral Domain. May God's holy angels be with you and protect you as you go back to your homes. But as you go back, do not forget why you came. You came out to learn from Jesus and to worship your Holy Heavenly King. Leave with Him, here, in this Temple, as an offering, something of your very best!

The History of the Cathedral Domain

It has occurred to me that the time is here to record one man's memories of the establishment of the Cathedral Domain in the Diocese of Lexington.  A full history of that place must be the work of many people, but I had the privilege of being in a good place to have a fine view.

When I was elected Bishop of Lexington, and before I was Consecrated, I got hold of a Diocesan Journal and began to read it to find out what I could about my new responsibility.  I read that the Diocese owned "two farms” I had immediate visions of broad Bluegrass acres and fat cattle and fine horses.  So, as soon as I had been made Bishop I set out to find the "farms” Archdeacon Francis Cooper (afterwards "Dean") and I set out on a November day and after much tribulation found the property.

We had to leave our car at the foot of the hill and walk.  Unsure of where we were, we followed some wagon tracks deeper and deeper into the woods, and finally found a house in what we afterwards called "Wolf-pen Valley.  ”This is now part of the Domain, but then belonged to Mr. James Crabtree.  In the house lived Mr. Townsend and his wife and a number of grown children.  He was at an improvised blacksmith shop which he had set up under an overhanging ledge of rock.

Mr. Townsend treated us nicely.  He told us that he had been allowed to use the Church land by Miss Blackwell, and would show us where it was.  This he did, and after some stiff climbing he delivered us to a high ground near the peak we now call "Buzzard's Roost”  There he showed us the Rains property, in the Valley before us, and said that the old Patterson house was over the next hill.  (We subsequently bought the Rains property and added it to the Domain.)

On the way to the Patterson place the Archdeacon and I, now rather tired out from our hike, met an old lady, very erect in carriage, heavily tanned in face, wearing a sun bonnet, who looked at us through snapping and intensely blue eyes, and, seeing our clerical collars, asked us for a bit of charity.  She turned out to be Mrs. May.  Mr. Patterson had bought the land originally from her husband.  She directed us to the old Patterson place.  There we heard the sound of hammering and found a couple of men getting planks off the ruined structure.  They said they were getting the planks to make a pen for a cow.

The old house was a sad sight.  It had originally been a two-story double log cabin, joined in the center by a "dog-trot” The roof was gone, and so was the upper story.  Mr. Patterson's library,— some five thousand volumes,—lay in utter confusion on the floor.  The font, from the ruined Chapel, we found outside, in three pieces.  It is now reassembled and stands in the Shrine at the Domain.

A long wing, built of some sawn lumber, was in the back of the house.  This, in ruin, was the source of the planking which was being removed.

The Archdeacon and I left this dismal scene and went across the road to the house known as "Honeymoon Cottage” This consisted of one room occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Glenn Durbin and their children.  Mr. Durbin helps us from time to time in the work at the Domain, and assisted Mr. Adkins, when the time came, in building the Cathedral.

After this excursion, in the course of which we discovered a saw mill busily sawing up timber on our land, I went away both disillusioned and discouraged.  I had been near enough to farms all my life to know one when I saw it, and these two tracts of forest land were distinctly not farms! However, I had acquired in earlier days much experience in youth camps, and I thought I could see hope for camp development in this remote, broken, forested area.  But I knew that nothing could be accomplished unless I could find the right man.  Where would he be found? The Lord sent him to us in the person of Mr. Glenn Gean Adkins.

In 1945 St. Thomas' Church in Beattyville was without a resident Minister and so far as I could see there was small chance of getting one.  Indeed, most of the smaller churches in the Diocese were without a resident Minister, and all of them wanted one.  That is, they wanted one if the Diocese would pay for him.  But like Mother Hubbard's cupboard the new Bishop's cupboard was bare!

Beattyville is ten miles from the old Patterson place, and I could not help connecting them in my thought.  In Beattyville an empty vicarage; from the Diocese a small,—a very small,—amount of money; in the Parish Church a vacant pulpit; ten miles away a tract of forested land on which might be built a Diocesan Camp and Conference Center; could these be combined into a workable partnership?

I went to Beattyville and talked with Mr. Virgil Beatty, a lawyer and a Vestryman in the Church.  He was very nice about it, but said,—"No, I do not think the Patterson land is usable.  Everything that has been tried there since Mr. Patterson died has failed.  As a matter of fact it had begun to fail before his death.”

Everyone said, "No," and I was inclined to agree with them.  But I wanted very much to have a Diocesan Camp and Conference Center.  I drove back to Lexington in deep discouragement.  It was Christmas-time and it was cold.  A boy about ten or eleven years old ran down a cut-bank with a Christmas rifle in his hands and knelt in the ditch and took a shot at me.  He missed, not only me but the whole car.  Perhaps he meant to miss.  Anyway, it did not improve the quality of my thoughts as I went on to Lexington.

When I got home I found a telegram waiting for me.  It was from Pikeville, a town which I had not yet visited, and was signed simply, "Reynolds” I had only the vaguest idea where Pikeville was, and no idea at all who "Reynolds" was.  I discovered later that Judge Reynolds was a lawyer, and was Senior Warden of Christ Episcopal Church (now St. David's) in Pikeville.  The telegram read,—"A young man here by the name of Adkins is just out of the Navy and wants to start a Boys' Camp.  He is a perfect genius with boys.  You could not do better than hire him.”

Perhaps I was still angry about being shot at.  Or, perhaps it was my native stubborn streak.  I went to the telephone, called Western Union and wired,—"Reynolds, Pikeville; Tell Adkins to come to see me in Lexington.”  The Judge got the telegram and Glenn Adkins came as soon as he could catch a bus.

Our first meeting took place in the Bishop's House on West Sixth Street.  Glenn Adkins still had his "G.I.” hair cut, and looked just like what he had been in the War, a Navy "Chief,"— the Navy's equivalent,—(or would the Navy admit it?)—of a "Top Sergeant” The interview did not last long.  I offered him lodgings and a hundred dollars a month, and a chance to build a Boy's Camp.  He accepted.  I did not know it, but he had in his pocket at the time an offer from a Church in the Diocese of Massachusetts, at several times the salary, to take charge of their Camp and Conference Center.  He wanted to do something for the young people of Kentucky.  Being a Mountain-man he said nothing, and I did not find out about it for several years.

Glenn Adkins asked, "Where is the lodging?". 

"It is the Vicarage in Beattyville," I replied. It is ten miles from the camp site.  And, by the way, since they have no Minister just now, I would like for you to be Lay Reader there for a little while, until I can find someone for them.”

That is when I thought the whole deal would fall through!

"I want to build a Camp," he replied.  I do not know a thing about Lay Reading.  I do not want to do it!"

"That's the only house I have," I said.  And the Lay Reading will only last a few weeks.” (It lasted six years! Even a Bishop is allowed a fib, in a good cause, once in a great while!) "Well," he said, wavering, "I will go to Pikeville and get my things.”

I knew what Glenn Adkins did not know. I had to go to Beattyville and persuade the Congregation to say "Yes" to this agreement! "Wait until I wire you" I said. ”When you get the wire, come here to Lexington, and I will drive you up there.  ”So we parted; and so began a friendship which has lasted through the years.

Now, back to Beattyville,—past the cut bank of recent memory, but no boy and rifle met me this time.  I had called a Congregational meeting by phone.  It was snowing.  About twelve or fourteen people met in the old Hotel across from the Courthouse. ” We want a Priest," they said. ” I can't get you a Priest" I said, "but I have a man who will be Lay Reader in Charge.  Its that, or I can do nothing. ” This went on for some time.  Finally, Mr. Blakey, a Vestryman, summed up for the Congregation. ” We have tried everything else without success.  If this doesn't work, we won't be any worse off. ” I can still remember the unmelted snow on his overshoes.  He went out, and the others followed him.  Mr. Virgil Beatty, holding the door open, said to me, "In this town every tub has to stand on its own bottom.  When you bring Mr. Adkins here, he will have to take care of himself. ” On that cheerful note I left the hotel and got into my ancient Ford car (it had seen me through the war years in Baltimore) and drove back to Lexington through the snow.  Home again, I wired Glenn Adkins,—"Everything is ready.  Come down.”

We had the "January thaw" when Glenn Adkins appeared bag and baggage, at the Bishop's House in Lexington.  January, 1946, and the rivers were up! 1 put in a phone call for Mr. Charles Beach, Sr., in Beattyville, and he said,—"I doubt if you can get into town.  The river is over the streets.  Perhaps you might make it through Pine Ridge, but that may be cut off, too. ” I did not know where Pine Ridge was.

"What do you think?" I said to Glenn. ” Shall we try it?" He was game, so off we went (not through Pine Ridge).  All the streams were up.  As we came down the Mountain into Beattyville we could see that the town was flooded, and that we would not make it.  We did get near enough to the railroad to walk in that way.  Glenn and I divided his baggage, and we set off up the track, over the tressel and so into town.  Glenn never tires telling that he is the only Lay Reader on earth ever to have had his baggage carried into town by the Bishop.  But there always has to be a first one!

St. Thomas' Church stands high on the hill-side above the town.  Huffing and puffing under the load of baggage, we reached the porch of the Vicarage, and looked down at the flooded town.  A man in a boat was paddling up the main street past the Court House.  Tin cans were floating out from behind a garage.  We heard the Court House clock striking, but I cannot now remember the hour.  It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining.

We went into the empty Vicarage and looked it over.  It was a house, but barely that,—much worn, much rotted wood.  In an upstairs room stood a large weaving-loom, left over from some ancient experiment in the revival of mountain crafts.  In another room stood an old grand-piano which would not play.

"Well," I said to Glenn Adkins, "as Mr. Virgil Beatty says, in this town every tub must stand on its own bottom!", and with that I left him.  He had to stand, for, as far as I could see, he did not have a chair.  But when I came to visit him later that winter he was quite comfortably fixed, at least as comfortably as one could be in that house.  A bright fire was burning on the hearth and though the windows rattled in the wind, one could keep warm.

Glenn had spent his time well.  He had gotten a war surplus vehicle with a four wheel drive and so had managed the almost impossible road into the old Patterson place.  He had walked over the whole property, and had determined the boundaries of the land.  And he had found a hidden Valley which Archdeacon Cooper and I had missed on our visit to the property. ” I think this valley is the place for our Camp" Glenn said.” Come out with me and see it. ” Mrs. Moody was with me.”  All right," I said, "I will take my car to the foot of the hill, and then we will go with you in your four-wheel drive.”

Up we went,—and it was a hair-raising climb! We arrived at the spot where the dining hall now stands.  It had been an old house-place, but the house was no longer there.  A few fruit trees, and some flowers gone wild showed that this had been home for some family once on a time.  Glenn had it all planned.  He had a place for the cabins, for the athletic field, for the pond, for a swimming pool.  But when it came time to go, the Army surplus four-wheel drive truck would not start.  In an effort to get it going Glenn ran it down the hill and into the sink-hole where the reservoir now is.  He refused to leave his chariot, and we left him there manfully struggling with it, and walked the mile down the hill to our old Ford, which, much to our relief, did start.  And so back to Lexington.

Glenn Adkins and I made plans to try the new Campsite for one summer to see if it were indeed the proper place.  We planned a "Work Camp," and Glenn signed up 18 boys.  Archdeacon Cooper, —who was Rector of Calvary Church in Ashland,—was much interested, and so it happened that many of the young men at that first Camp came from Ashland.  One of these was Walter Cooper, now a soil conservation expert stationed at Bucyrus, Ohio.  Campbell Proudfit, from Pikeville, was another.  He became a jet pilot.  And we might, if we had space, mention many others.

The only house standing on the property which became the Cathedral Domain, (other than "Honeymoon Cottage," which was occupied by the Durbin family, and the ruins of the Patterson "Friendly House"), was the ancient log house over 100 years old which Mr. Patterson had bought from the May family and in which Mr. May had been born.  When Mr. Adkins took over the Domain it was being used to store hay for Mr. Townsend's cows.  In this place the first Boys Camp at the Domain was held, in the summer of 1946.

That first summer the young men had a wonderful time under Mr. Adkins' expert direction, and they did pioneer work, making trails, clearing brush, moving rock, and exploring the land.  It was about as near pioneer living as youngsters could have in this day, and many of these boys came back to the Domain year after year until they were grown.  Some still come back, just to have a look at it.

In that first year, Glenn Adkins found it necessary to get what remained of the lumber in the old Patterson House moved to Beattyville in order to preserve it.  We also made a bargain with the sawmill we had found sawing lumber from our property to pay us in sawn lumber for the trees they were using.  (We should say that the people who owned the mill did not know that some of it was being cut over our line.  Maybe those who cut it did not know either.) This lumber, plus the remnants saved from the old Patterson place, helped to build the first kitchen and the first cabin on the Domain.

The first Diocesan Youth Conference at the Cathedral Domain (still called at that time by everybody "the Old Patterson Place") was one for the book! We had up one small house for the kitchen and dining hall.  We had one very rough cabin erected, made from boards saved from Mr. Patterson's "Girl's Friendly House. ” For the rest of it, we had purchased some old surplus army tents.  They leaked!

We made a guess and supposed that the most people we could possibly have would be fifty, so by hunting and scratching we found money enough to buy fifty surplus army cots.  Over sixty young people arrived! Ten, obviously, had to go without beds! The boys who had toughed-out the first summer (the year before) when there were no beds anyway, volunteered to do it again, so that problem was solved.

The "dining room" would not hold all the people, so they had to go inside and get their food and then come out and sit on piles of scrap lumber to eat it.

The Conference lasted for ten days, and it rained every day.  One of the most popular diversions turned out to be a "mud-hike.”

In spite of this, the young people simply loved it! There has never been another Youth Conference like it, and it would be impossible to repeat it.  Veterans of the occasion sometimes gather and talk wistfully about it, and groan about the "weak younger generation" at the Domain, with all the inside plumbing and "plush accommodations.”

There was not a mirror in Camp.  (Glenn Adkins was not yet married, and it never occurred to him that anybody would want one!) The old stove in the kitchen burned coal, and threw out great gobs of soot, which then fell on the wash bench, (a water pail and tin basins), and then got on everyone's face.  This made for great merriment since you could see the other person, but not yourself! The girls started "borrowing" each other's compacts, which had little scraps of mirrors in them.

One of the girls took a great liking to a handsome young fellow of the male variety, but she was not alone in this.  She had some competition.  In an effort to regain a prime position in the contest, she "lost" her wrist watch in the well,—our only source of water.  The well was twenty-seven feet deep, and had been dug at what was, for us, great expense.  This young gallant, to prove his manhood and his devotion, put on bathing trunks and began diving in the well to recover the lost timepiece.  He might well have drowned.  (We afterwards pumped out the well and no watch was in it.) Luckily the camp was nearly over, for everyone suddenly lost taste for drinking water, and we had to haul water for a couple of days for that purpose.

Anyhow, it was a happy camp, and no one who was there will ever forget it,—the young people coming back from a "mud-hike" singing in the rain,—or standing outside the kitchen shack shouting, "Here we are like birds in the wilderness, waiting for our food,"—or laughing at each others' sooty faces,—or gathered about the campfire looking like refugees from a disaster, waiting to hear one of Glenn Adkins' wonderful improvised fairy stories about the "Dragon in the Cave," or "The Beating Heart," (actually the pumping of a nearby oil-well which could be heard in the still of the night.)

We started off at the very first with regular Religious Services every day, and classes in the morning to teach about our Christian Faith.  The afternoons and evenings were free for recreation.  Our Camps and Conferences have been well-planned and supervised since the beginning.  Many of the young people who attended had their Faith strengthened, and many who came as guests entered the Episcopal Church when they grew up, and today are in our Parishes with their families.

After our hilarious first year as a Youth Conference, and an organized Boys' Camp, it became not only obvious but absolutely imperative that we enlarge and improve our facilities.  Glenn Adkins had gotten a book on how to be a carpenter and had made the great discovery that buildings must have a framework inside- the walls and that this is made out of lumber called a 2 by 4! Sharing this startling information (something like discovering that the human body has bones) with the Bishop, the two of them got their heads together and the quality of our buildings began to improve.

This could all have been avoided if we had had an architect, but we had no money to employ one, no builder (as yet) who could understand a blueprint, and practically no interest in the Diocese concerning what we were trying to do, and much questioning why we needed a "Youth Center" anyway!

This was due, in part, to the general state of the Diocese, which was not so much a Diocese at all but a loose association of Parishes, each interested in its own affairs and wondering, vaguely, what a Bishop was for anyway!

Very many people in the Diocese were under the impression that the Bishop "had a Church in Lexington," and "came out to visit them" (just them) a couple of times a year.  There was grumbling about the Bishop "spending our money out there in the woods. ” This made the Bishop laugh, because a major portion of what was spent on the Domain then, and for some years, came out of his personal tithe, and that of Glenn Adkins.  The rest of the money came out of the income from the Armstrong Fund designated by the donor to do something for mountain children.

Now that we do have a Diocese which knows what a Diocese ought to be, we can thank the Cathedral Domain for that awareness, for the Domain brought us together, not only the young people, but the grown-ups as well, and made deep and lasting ties of friendship, sympathy and understanding across parish lines.  It is the small parishes which profited first, and through the years have profited most, from the Domain.  This is because they needed the Domain and began to know that they did.  The larger parishes needed the Domain, too, but did not know it.

Well, it was fun learning, and learn we did! I scratched out plans on the ground with a twenty-penny nail, and left it to Glenn Adkins to find out (from his book on how to be a carpenter), how to put it together.  One result was a new dining hall.  Another was a log cabin, promptly named "The Bishop's Palace.”

An immediate need was a Swimming Pool, so we began to build one.  How Glenn Adkins learned to build with concrete is a mystery, since it was not in his carpentry book.  Nevertheless he built the swimming pool, and it serves today.

To get water for the pool we had to build a pond as a reservoir.  For this we thought we must have expert advice, so we brought in an engineer from the University of Kentucky.  He laid out our pond for us.  I made a modest question about the sink-hole in the middle of it.  He assured me that there was nothing to worry about; "We plug sink-holes in ponds every day," he said.  He showed us just how to do it.  The bottom fell out of the pond three times, into a cave which happens, conveniently, to be right under it, and all our precious water squirted out under the mountain and into the valley half a mile away.  Finally, we had to put reinforced concrete over the whole bottom of the pond.

We needed a filter for our pond water, (or thought we did), and the cheapest one we could find was priced at six thousand dollars.  This was, of course, impossible for us.  Mr. George Whitfield, of Harlan, Kentucky, a member of Christ Church in that town, showed us how to build one for a fraction of that cost, and it is working well today.

We needed an athletic field, and Mr. Burnet Robinson, then in the earth-moving business, came up on one of his big machines and drained and graded a swampy valley into the fine field we have today.  He donated his time, knowledge and work.

The Women of the Diocese began to be interested in a vital way in the Domain.  The women in Parish after Parish raised money to help put up our first dormitory cabins.  St. John's, Versailles; The Church of the Nativity, Maysville; Calvary, Ashland; Trinity, Covington, and St. Andrew's, Ft. Thomas were among the first in this activity.

Our access-road, (one mile up the steep mountain) became an increasing problem, and finally became impossible.  Archdeacon and Mrs. Benedict Hanson gave Five Thousand Dollars which was used to rebuild the road (with local labor) and make it usable.  (It still remained a one-way track,—but how much better it was!)

While the road was being built, (it was late in October), I went up to see how it was coming along and spent the night in "The Palace.” I was all by myself in the little log cabin, and late in the night a fierce thunder-storm blew up.  The rain came down in sheets.  Lightning was striking trees all around.  I got up to fasten the shutter, and coming back to bed the beam from my flash-light (we had no other light at the Domain then) fell upon a box under my bed.  Curious, I pulled it out, and it seemed to be filled with candles. ” Who in the world bought all those candles for this place!", I said, rather vexed.  Then I picked one up.  It was a stick of dynamite! I had been sleeping in a thunderstorm over a case of dynamite! After considering the matter for a moment, I pushed the dynamite back under the bed, jumped in, and slept soundly until morning.  After having been Bishop of Lexington for three or four years, it seemed the only intelligent thing to do.

Things began to happen fast at the Domain.  The Women of the Diocese saw the desperate need for a good and modern kitchen and went ahead to meet it.  One of the leaders in this was Mrs. J. M. Robinson of Ft. Thomas.  First she was Treasurer of the Diocesan Board, and then President, and she was interested in the Domain from the beginning.   Mrs. Robinson had many helpers.  The Women of the Diocese raised two thousand dollars,—an immense sum in those days, and by no means small now,—and bought good -substantial restaurant-type equipment for the Domain and put it in place.  A good kitchen is the heart of any Conference Center.  Some might say that "prayer" is the heart of a Church Conference Center, and essentially it is so, but somehow if the food is poor it seems to have an adverse effect on the prayer!

The ladies also contributed to the enlargement and improvement of the Dining Hall.  The new building is twice the size of the old, and of much better construction.  A fine feature of it is the great stone fireplace at the end of the Hall.

An amusing thing about the fireplace and chimney (and somewhat sad, too) was that Glenn Adkins went to great care to select stones showing on their faces some of the fine fossils which appear in our region, and the masons who constructed the fireplace turned them all inside.

We began to use the new dining hall before it was finished.

The Dining Hall was a year or so in getting completed, but finally it was done.  Mr. Frank Trumbo, of the Church of the Good Shepherd, Lexington, located the beautiful walnut lumber for us with which the Dining Hall is paneled.

About this time we built the upstairs apartment,—since much improved and enlarged,—in which Mr. and Mrs. Adkins make their home.

Glenn Adkins took under his care two youngsters, brothers, and one of them, "Ricky" Harp, a handsome and talented young fellow, stayed at the Domain for several years. ” Ricky" is now a successful business man living in Lexington with his wife and family.  They are members of St. Gabriel's in Lexington.

A very great step forward came for us at the Domain when we decided to try to build a really large structure,—a general purpose recreation hall.  I had gotten a lot of books on architecture and had been burning the midnight oil reading them.  I came across the description of a great barn in England which has been standing for seven hundred years.  This gave us the general structure for our Great Hall.  It would serve no purpose to tell of all our struggles, mistakes and attempts at correction,—suffice to say that Glenn Adkins and his local helpers built the very satisfactory structure which stands today and which is so vitally useful, especially to the younger people who come to the Domain; a real "life saver" on rainy days!

Since I had great doubts,—although unspoken ones,—about my ability as an architect, and Glenn Adkins had doubts,—not quite so unspoken,—about his ability as a builder, we were both thankful when we saw about one hundred young people and staff members (also young) doing the "Bunny Hop," (a dance popular then), and realized that what we had built was not going to fall down! If the new Great Hall could take that "Bunny Hop," it could stand through an earthquake! Leader of the activities that night was the Rev. F. Willard Kephart, young and as yet unmarried, dressed in a clown costume, and dancing with the pretty girls, among whom was Missy Groos, of Harlan, (now married and living in Atlanta, Georgia), as pretty as a picture and as graceful as could be.

The building of our Cathedral was one of the great adventures in the life of our Diocese.  There was much opposition to it,—sincere opposition,—by people who thought it could not be done with the means at our disposal, or that it should not be done because it might prove too costly for our Diocese.  The very word "Cathedral" seemed to imply something frighteningly big and expensive.  Others,—just as sincere,—felt that no one would ever go to a Church of that size situated so far from any town.  Almost everybody thought that I was indulging a whimsy,—but I was determined to build the Cathedral, for I was convinced that it would be, —as it has proved to be,—the cap-stone of everything we had tried to do at that place.  It came as a great shock to many people when they learned that I intended to see that Church built, and would not be stopped.  Some of the most tense moments of my life as Bishop of Lexington, and some of the most painful to me, came over my determination to build that Church.  I had to move against the judgment of many of my good friends and associates.

Of course, money was important, because you cannot build a Church of that size without cost.  Although there was opposition in the Diocese, there was support, too.  I had been receiving and saving gifts from interested people for years for this purpose and some money was available, but not enough.  Mrs. Moody and I had contributed to the extent of our means, (and beyond), and there had been many others.  At this moment,—as so often before in my time in the Diocese,—the Episcopal Women came to the rescue.  The Diocesan Board voted unanimous support, and Mrs. Frank L. McVey (Many Andrews), volunteered her services in the effort to raise the final sums needed.  She did a perfectly magnificent job, organizing a campaign which extended over a whole year, involving almost innumerable mailings, and bringing in hundreds of gifts, most of them small, month by month, but adding up to an impressive total,—enough to enable us to put the financing of the Cathedral building "over the top.”

It is worth noting that not one penny went into the Cathedral building out of Diocesan revenues, nor did a penny go into it which did not represent an interested and purposeful gift.  Few contributions as large as one thousand dollars came into the Fund.  Our Cathedral was, quite literally, built by the small gifts of a multitude of vitally interested people.

The first person I had to convince about the necessity of building the Cathedral was Mr. Glenn Gean Adkins! And this convincing was two-sided,—I had to show him my vision of why we must have a Cathedral,—and (even more important) I had to get him to admit to himself that he could do it! Well,—he did do it! With the help of two men and a boy he built that large and beautiful Church, and it stands as his monument, not only in the physical structure of our Diocese, but in the contribution which the Cathedral building is making to the spiritual life of this region.  I often tell Glenn, in a half-joking fashion, how very many persons in Christian history have been "Sainted" because they built a great Church—but in truth, to have built a Church as large and as useful as that one, is a saintly act.

Whether Glenn Adkins would ever have succeeded in building the Cathedral without the encouragement of his wife, Bethel Adkins, we will never know.  But we do know that one of the best things Glenn Adkins ever did for himself and for us all was to bring Bethel Plummer to the Domain as his bride.  She has won her way into all our hearts in the entire Diocese,—cheerful, hardworking, bearing physical ailment and pain which would have destroyed a lesser person, living her Christian Faith, she is loved by all, and is an example and an encouragement to us all.  Perhaps we should make her a Saint rather than Glenn!

The first act in the building of the Cathedral was to lay out the land.  A commanding site had been chosen on the limestone cliff which overlooks the valley.  The site is three hundred feet above the Valley floor.  We had decided to dedicate the Cathedral in honor of St. George, so it was determined to lay out the ground for the building on St. George's Day,—April 23rd.

No one who was involved in the "Orientation of the Cathedral of St. George the Martyr" will ever forget it! We decided to do it in the old way,—perhaps not used since Mediaeval times,—and to spend the night at the Cathedral site on the eve of St. George's Day, and mark the exact point of the rising of the sun.  The Church would be built on that axis, with the Sanctuary towards the sunrise on that particular day.

We had prepared an enormous feast,—roast beef, roast pork, turkey, vegetables galore,—and at great expense I had gotten a haunch of venison (as it turned out no one would eat it! That is, the venison! I felt bound to eat it, and did, for days afterward, until I thought I might sprout horns!) There were somewhat more than forty of us at the Domain,—a tremendous table,—a roaring fire,—a happy fellowship,—and we ate all night long! Every hour on the hour Dean Francis Cooper, dressed in a great cloak and flanked by torch bearers, led two Seminarians out to pray at the Cathedral site.

When the morning came, there was a terrible fog, but we all went in procession to the site of the building, and stood in the cold and dripping woods singing hymns and hoping for a glimpse of the rising sun.  Finally, in despair, Dean Cooper began to read Morning Prayer,—and just as we started the Te Deum,—"We Praise Thee, O God,"—the sun burst through the mists! There it was, a most beautiful sight! And I sighted it over the Bishop's Pastoral Staff and marked it on a tree, and the Cathedral stands on that axis today.

After the "Watch Night" for the Orientation of the Cathedral of St. George the Martyr, the next thing was to clear the land.  This was done, and so it remained for a year.  That first Summer the Cathedral site grew a bumper crop of weeds.  Finally, excavation for the foundation began.  In most places the foundation goes right down to bed-rock, and is bolted to the rock.

The weight of the building is borne by the central piers and the foundation for these is of concrete reinforced by steel.  From the floor level upward for thirty feet these pillars are of laminated timber twelve-by-twelve inches square.  This wood came from Bay Minette, Alabama, the only place where we could find heart-pine timber of sufficient size and length.  The great timbers were assembled and bolted together on the site, and were raised and set in place by Mr. Adkins and his helpers.  The roof-trusses were also assembled on the site, and the framework of the Cathedral moved forward towards completion bay by bay.

The Cathedral design follows that of the oldest known wooden Church-buildings in northern Europe.  Only a few of these remain, of which the best preserved is St. Catherine’s' Church, at Honfleur, in Normandy.  This design was the fore-runner of Gothic architecture.  It is a queer commentary that this ancient style of building, which can be traced in northern Europe to the days before Christ, is preserved today only in churches and in barns.  In the Churches the post-and-beam sections are called "Bays," and in the barns they are "Bents.” A Kentucky farmer walked into the Cathedral shortly after the framework was completed and exclaimed, "What a tobacco barn this would make!" He would probably have had the same sense of recognition in Westminster Abbey, where the basic design is the same.

The framework of the Cathedral was about one-third completed when the Bishop held the first Communion Service there.  It was at the time of the Women's Conference and Retreat, in the Spring.  The next Service of consequence was the Installation of The Very Rev. Edgar Christian Newlin as Dean.  The great West Window had not yet been installed.  A rough table was set up as a temporary Altar, and signs of continuing construction were all about.

Dean Newlin is the third to hold that office.  First was the Very Rev. Paul D. Wilbur, now Rector of a Church in Connecticut.  He was followed by the Very Rev. Francis M. Cooper, who is now Rector of a Church in Orlando, Florida—Dean Newlin, however, is the first to preside in the new Cathedral building itself.

When the time came to panel the interior of the Cathedral and to finish the outside, we bought a car load of Western cedar from a lumber company in Oregon (but the timber itself came from Idaho.)  When the order went in the Bishop received a letter from the president of the lumber company—he was an Episcopalian and Senior Warden of his Church,—in which he expressed his joy that his company could help in constructing a Cathedral in Eastern Kentucky.

In securing lumber to build the Cathedral we had invaluable help from Mr. Frank Trumbo, a lumber dealer and a member of the Church of the Good Shepherd, in Lexington.

When this lumber came to us I was most anxious to see it, so I got into my car and set out for the Domain.  I passed through Irvine and Ravenna, (which are twin towns), and on to Lee County.  When I reached the site of the Cathedral and had found Glenn Adkins, he told me that the car load of lumber was on a siding in Ravenna, and that I had passed right by it.  He said that he had three men down there unloading it, and that he expected the first of it to arrive at any minute.  We walked about and talked things over, and then went and had a cup of coffee, but no lumber arrived.  In the meanwhile, the sky began to look very angry, so I said goodbye to Glenn and headed back toward Lexington, intending to stop and see the new lumber on the way.

I went by the river road, and as I reached the edge of Ravenna I was stopped by a soldier in battle dress with a fixed bayonet on his rifle.  He said, "You can't come in here! A tornado has blown this town to pieces and they are getting the people out of the ruins.” I said, "But I have got to get in! I have got three men in there unloading a car of lumber!" He looked at me, clerical collar and all, and said, "Buddy, if you want to see those men you have come to the wrong place, you had better go right on down to hell!"

Seeing that he had a rifle with a knife on it, and seemed to be in earnest about the matter, I turned my car around and found a back road around the town.  Then 1 tried to get in from the other side.  There I met with better language, but no better luck.  So I went around the town again.  I could see where the tornado had gone through, right across the back road on which I was traveling, tearing up trees and throwing things about.  On the other side of the railroad yards I could see smashed freight cars and ripped up buildings.  I considered what to do, and could not think of anything except those three men and all that expensive lumber,—several thousand dollars worth.  So I went back to the Domain with my bad news.

It was a couple of days before I learned that none of our men were hurt, nor did we lose a stick of timber, although the cyclone cut a knife-edge across the tracks not fifty feet from our freight car.  The men had gotten inside the car when they saw the storm coming.  They said the car started rocking on the track, and once they thought it was going over, but it did not do so, and all was well.

Some people were injured in the town, but not as many as one would have expected from such destruction.  Many stores and houses were simply picked apart like a plucked chicken.  But you may pass down that devastated street today, and unless you had seen it, you would never believe that any such thing happened.  And as for our beautiful lumber, it is on the Cathedral, both inside and out.

Mrs. Frank L. McVey, Jr., gave the great West Window, twenty by thirty feet in size,—in memory of her first husband, Waddell Platt.  Forty-two windows in the Nave were given by Mrs. Clinton M. Harbison.  Mr. Clinton M. Harbison gave the glass doors on one side of the Cathedral and Mrs. Edward R. Seaton the glass doors on the other side, these in memory of her mother.  Mrs. Catesby Jones (Hallie Townes) gave money for the oak floor in the Cathedral (the largest single gift) in memory of her father.  Mrs. William M. Haupt gave one hundred handsome chairs.  Bishop and Mrs. Moody gave the cabinets and book-shelves at the West end of the building in memory of their parents.  Mrs. Rexford Blazer gave the Altar in memory of Mrs. Dunn. Bishop Moody designed the Altar and had it built in Lexington.  Mr. and Mrs. Glenn G. Adkins gave the Red Cross of Saint George on the exterior of the Cathedral at the East end of the building.  Mrs. Elizabeth Hutchinson gave one hundred large hymn books.  Bishop Moody designed the two large wrought iron candelabra for the sanctuary, and these were the gift of Mr. and Mrs. David Bronson.  The antique candle sticks for the Altar were the gift of Mr. George Bagby, as were also four antique chairs, and the pulpit, (which was an antique music stand.) Dean and Mrs. Newlin gave a walnut Missal Stand for the Altar.  Mrs. Cecil Cantrill gave a magnificent and irreplaceable lace frontal for the Altar.  Mrs. Gilbert Bailey gave an antique Spanish frontal for the Altar.  A silver Chalice and Paten are in memory of Waddell Platt, the gift of his family and friends.  The Bishop's Chair, which was the first gift for the Cathedral, was the gift of the late Mr. George Roth. Mrs. George Roth gave a table which is used in the library section of the nave.  Mrs. Donald Putnam gave one hundred chairs.  The Dean's Chair and two other large chairs, came from the Sanctuary at Christ Church, Lexington, where they served for many years when that Church was the Cathedral of the Diocese.  Mr. and Mrs. George Schaller gave the handsome flags, one of our country and the other of our Church.  The Rev. Donnell White, then a Seminarian, built the Communion Rail and the Book Shelves and Cabinets.  Mrs. Walter J. Binder gave a handsome Processional Cross in memory of her husband.  The Credence Table was made by Mr. Chester Haskins, and was the gift of the people of St. Andrew's Church, Fort Thomas.

The story of the magnificent needle-point, and of the Parish Banners in the Cathedral, is of interest in itself and will be told later.

When the day came for the Consecration of the Cathedral, no one knew what to expect.  What happened was beyond what anyone dared to expect! Two thousand people arrived at the Domain on that April Sunday, nearest to St. George's Day.  The cars simply overwhelmed the Domain.  No one knows how many came as far as the foot of the hill,—one measured mile away,—and had to turn and go home.  The State Police say there were many.  One whole bus load (from Trinity Church, Covington), took a wrong turn and ended up in Richmond, Kentucky.

Photographers from many newspapers covered the event.  The Courier-Journal ran a feature article with numerous pictures in color.  The crowd inside the Church was unbelievable,—and so densely packed that the Procession could scarcely get in, including the Bishop, who stood outside for about half an hour vainly knocking on the door.  The crowd inside was so tightly packed that the Dean could not get to the door to open it.  Many of the clergy who came in with the Procession, could find no place even to stand, and went back outside.

The Choir of Men and Boys from Christ Church, Lexington, sang the anthem, directed by Mr. Quade.  Choirs from all over the Diocese were present.  A thousand people crowded into the Church.  Others stood outside, and tried to hear the service through the open doors and windows.  Others, unable to hear, sat under the trees or walked about the Domain.  When the Bishop stood up to preach he saw, with consternation, about forty people standing on a fragile temporary scaffold outside the South door.  Fortunately, our Guardian Saint was on the job and even that frail over loaded bit of timber refused to fall down!

In a rash moment we had promised to serve supper (free) to those who wanted it.  Mrs. Frank McVey, Jr., was head of the Committee.  (She also arranged the magnificent publicity for the occasion.) The Domain Kitchen served over sixteen hundred suppers, (including "sack suppers" for the children).  Hundreds of persons either brought their own food or went away without waking.

Six Hundred Ash Trays with a picture of the Cathedral on them were made by the Hadley Pottery, of Louisville as souvenirs of the day.  All have been sold.  They are now collectors' items.  Mrs. William Moody was in charge of this project.

All in all it was a great day for Episcopalians in the Diocese of Lexington! And never likely to be repeated, although attendance at every St. George's Day since has been something at which to marvel.

The State Police made the estimate that we had two thousand people at the Domain on the day of the Consecration of the Cathedral.  Ever since then we have been afraid to advertise a general gathering at the Domain.  Every St. George's Day,—April 23rd,— since the Consecration has seen the Cathedral filled, even on days with a downpour of rain.  This year (1967) there were seventy-five people in the Church for the Service of Holy Communion, at noon, (which was not advertised), and seven hundred people came for the Patronal Festival Service of Evening Prayer, at 3:30 o'clock in the afternoon.  People brought their own picnic lunches or suppers and the whole lawn was gay with happy groups seated on the grass.  The question has been answered once and for all,—"Who will go to so large a Church so far out in the country?" This keeps up all summer.  (The Domain is 10 miles from the nearest town.) Sometimes a hundred visitors will arrive on a Sunday.

A question arises about the Cathedral Shrine, used for so many years before we had the Cathedral building, and loved by many,—"Who uses it now?" The answer—it is used by the young people at the Summer Camps.  It is also used by the Episcopal Men, at their Conferences, for Evening Prayer, and at times by the Episcopal Women for the same purpose.  In fine weather, it may be used in the early morning for the Holy Communion.  But more and more often one may pass and see a person, or a couple, or a group kneeling there in silent prayer.  It is a quiet place, a natural amphitheatre, with a simple wooden Altar and Communion Rail;—and there is a statue of St. Francis to one side surrounded by rhododendron.  This is in memory of Mrs. John L. Smith (a sister of Mrs. Edward R. Seaton.)

The Episcopal Men of our Diocese, under the leadership of Mr. C. J. Bolton, have undertaken the beautification of the Cathedral grounds by the introduction of flowering trees and shrubs native to the region.  This includes redbud and dogwood, but more especially rhododendron and azalea.  There is, already there, but remote from the Cathedral itself, a stand of laurel and of rhododendron.

In the Springtime, and indeed all through the season unto the Fall, the Domain is alive with wild flowers of many varieties.  We have trouble, however, with our visitors about this.  Children, and adults too, dig up our flowers, and sometimes shrubs and small trees, and take them home, not realizing what harm they do.  Once, when I had bought twenty-four small rhododendron plants and had put them out as a memorial, eighteen of them disappeared.  And on St. George's Day a year ago (1966) twelve beautiful young holly trees which were being carefully nurtured went the same way.  Some rare wildflowers have almost been exterminated at the Domain in this fashion.  People should stop to think what their actions mean.  To destroy a beautiful plant at the Domain, or to take it away, will deprive hundreds of people of pleasure there in years ahead.

A lovely rhododendron garden has been set out, by a friend, on a wooded slope near the Cathedral in memory of Mr. Paul Blazer and of his son who was lost in World War II.  It came into its first bloom in May, 1967.

Much new building, replacing outmoded cabins with better construction, has taken place at the Domain since the Cathedral was Consecrated.  All the buildings need maintenance and care.  Gradually, and with much struggle, we have built up a very valuable property, including the Cathedral Church, the Great Hall, the Dining Hall and Kitchen, living quarters, water-works, swimming pool, playing fields, and other facilities, roads and trails through our square-mile and more of Domain.  This is amazing since we started with nothing, and have never borrowed a penny.  This is all without debt of any kind, but it presents a constant and increasing maintenance problem, for it will not maintain itself.  Just the growing forest on the Domain needs maintenance and care if it is to be properly managed.  This forest is an asset of great potential value for the Diocese in the future, for it covers more than a square mile.  Increased help must be made available to Mr. Adkins both in money and in manpower for maintenance purposes or this work will get away from us.

The beautification program at the Domain must go on, and much needs yet to be done.  This has to be done with regard to the uses to which the Domain is put.  We must remember that children at play and flower-beds do not mix successfully.  We have plenty of room at the Domain for both children and flowers, but we must be sure we choose an appropriate place for both.

We have taken the oldest structure on the Domain, the log house over one hundred years old, and have rebuilt it into a Museum, to house pictures of the Camps and Conferences; and we also want pictures of our Churches throughout the Diocese as they were in other years.

Space limitations make it impossible to tell all our needs.  Someday we hope to make a list of them and circulate it.  All our people need to know is what is needed, and because they know how much the Cathedral Domain means to so many, these needs will be supplied.  Right now, let us think of all the good things which we have at the Domain, and of the joy and happiness and healing which it has brought to so many people in the past, and will bring in the years that are ahead.

I wish to thank all who have helped make the Domain so great an instrument for good.  It is impossible to name them all, but I think of Dean Paul Wilbur, Dean Francis Cooper, and Dean Edgar Newlin.  I think of Canons Edward W. Baxter, Allen Person, William D. Smith, Robert Estill, and Addison Hosea.  I think of the Rev. J. Perry Cox, who worked hard for the Domain, and of others too numerous to name, whose good work in multitudes of ways will not be forgotten.

All things come to an end, and so must this brief and fragmentary "one man's history" of our Cathedral.  Memories come rushing in, but there is no space for them.  Someday, well, who knows? Time will fill this out a bit, and,—until then,—May God bless you all!