From a Wooden Hut to a Cathedral - When Frank Wappat resigned from the Church of England to found his own Interdenominational Church - even he could not have anticiapated its success - After outgrowing two Churches from therir base in a wooden Hut in the east end of Newcastle they finally settled in the mighty 1,000 seater North Shields Memorial Churchl. A massive accomplishment - God truly honoured Frank's work - and in all his years of service to the Church he never took a stipend.
A Radio Colleague told me some time ago, that a previous person in charge of the BBC Local Radio Station, had told them, "Frank Wappat doesn't take his Religion seriously". Apart from posing questions like, "How little do they need to know about their staff?" My 'Inspirational' Show is the longest running programme on the station, 39 years. When in its 7.30-9.00am slot it had more listeners in the region than Radios 1,2,3,4,5 and all the commercial stations (according to the manager Tony Fish, who showed me the figures)
I was licensed by the Bishop of Newcastle to the parish in the East End of Newcastle. Later I accepted the post of Minister in Charge of a non-dominational church, until I personally raised the finance and founded what became one of the largest non-dominational churches in B
I married hundreds of couples, christened or dedicated their children and buried their dead.
The Jewish community in
If that is not taking religion seriously - pray, what is? If you'll pardon the pun
"Queues Form to get a seat in Frank Wappat's Church"
Here Frank talks about his transition into the Church (some of the following text is part extract from his biography)
I was quite honoured when the Newcastle “Journal” Newspaper included me amongst the most 500 most influential people in the North of England.
One of the reasons it gave was that I became the Superintendent Minister of one of the biggest Multi Faith Churches.
This acknowledgement prompted a leading journalist in the North to ring me “Why and when did you decide that you wanted to become a clergyman?”
“I never did” was my honest reply.
My father saw to it that I was brought up a Primitive Methodist
Prior to his conversion my dad was the shipyard tipster, a Sunderland Football Club supporter (which he remained all of his life), and he played for ‘Rose Villa’, (Jarrow) Football Club. Following his conversion he came to believe that anything pleasurable was a sin - no smoking, drinking, dancing, theatres, reading Sunday papers - and sex was only for having babies, and whilst the Primitives had some wonderful working class caring members, they also had their cranks – regrettably it was this minority in their ranks who influenced my dad.
I was forced to go to Chapel until the age of fourteen, but by fifteen I had become an Atheist and remained so until I was twenty-one. Nevertheless from a distance I retained my love for the Primitive Methodists - I knew little of their theology - but I loved their tradition, their guts, their enthusiasm - and the fact that they formed the first Trades Union Movements (Agricultural and Mining). If they did nothing else, I reckoned their existence had not been in vain.
For years my dad kept to the religious ‘left’, but his was an honest attempt to be seen to be above reproach, and to be seen not to compromise with the "world". He was sound. He treasured his concept of his God, his Chapel and his witness – which I felt on occasions he took too far.
I brought my friends home only on rare occasions and would pray that my father wouldn't come in. If he did, his first question was always, "Do you go to Chapel?" If they said "No" - that was the end of another relationship. If they said "Yes" - his face would light up, but with a cautious suspicious glint in his eye. "Yes - but which one?" - he would pursue the interrogation. If the trembling soul said "St. Aloysius" (Roman Catholic) his face would take on an absolutely unbelieving, incredulous look and he would stare at me as if to say - "Have you taken leave of your senses, boy? ... the sort of look one would give a cat, which dared to do a whoopsy in front of you on the new hearth rug. The result another friend lost and all visitors banned until he recovered from the shock. When a guest told him they attended a Methodist Chapel, this I'm afraid was still not sufficient. "Yes, but which sort is it? - Is it ex-Primitive or ex-Wesleyan?" If they didn't know, I think he wrote them off in disgust. If they were ex-Wesleyans - the fate was similar. When he felt that my friends had outstayed their welcome he would get out his pyjamas and warm them in front of the fire. Retiring to bed he could be heard praying out loud “O lord forgive our Frank for his sinful ways” - or words to that effect.
At 21 I was admitted to hospital for what should have been a routine sub mucous resection – but the operation went terribly wrong and nearly took my life.
I was no different to the other cowards.
As I felt the life ebbing from me, I became filled with fear. Only someone who has actually reached the stage of hovering between life and death can understand the stark reality and indeed horror of the situation - because it is then, and only then, that one becomes aware, not only of the finality of this life with all of its connections, friends, family and so on - but the opening of another door, into another life. Only at such a time can anyone be so completely and genuinely aware that every one of us is accountable for our deeds - or lack of them.
This whole experience had a profound effect on me and I had changed.
I went back to my fathers Chapel to give thanks, but sadly, the collective Methodist Church, which I re-joined, had lost its grip on the working classes and it had always been the working man's Church, whether Wesleyan, Primitive or United Methodist.
I loved to listen to the old-timers talking about the great days of open-air witness, revival meetings and conversions of corner-enders into upright pillars of society, but the old timers were becoming fewer. The old fashioned hymns which they loved and sang had a magic which penetrated the heart of a man - which is exactly where they had originated, often from a heart-felt experience of a loving living God. I couldn't understand why the remaining Church members didn't have the enthusiasm of the past stalwarts, they neither openly talked about nor advertised the Chapel in print nor by word of mouth.
Once I became an accredited Preacher, I decided to organise a ‘Revival Hour’ for a Saturday Night. “Oh you’ll need to get permission from the Leaders’ Meeting, then the Trustees and if they agree – the Minister!. He was the worst ”We can’t get people in on a Sunday so what makes you think YOU can get them in on a Saturday”
The first Revival Hour produced a packed Chapel. Another Chapel asked me to do the same for them. It too was packed. Then the largest Chapel in Town asked me. We did he same for them. Then the Minister came to see me “You’ve done a good job Frank, so in future I’ll do these meetings”. His first was his last – it flopped. So I decided to book the biggest venue in the area, a Ballroom!
The Minister then cycled around officials of the 7 Chapels and forbade them to read out my invitations as “They weren’t in the name of Methodism”!! The Power House was packed – and the final insult came when I arranged a fund raising dance in aid of the Chapel. Once again the Minister called to see me “You can’t have a dance in the name of Methodism” despite its success he refused to take the money raised on the night. The Dance I arranged was such a success that the Dance Hall Promoters offered me the job. Then came another bombshell, another visit from the Minister “You can’t front a dance and be editor of the Methodist Magazine” (a magazine I had devised myself)
I then realised that the Chapels were being destroyed from within by the myopic Ministers and often boring Local Preachers.
Then I met a girl from Newcastle – a very pretty girl too. She was an Anglican (C of E) and was a member of the Church Choir. One night she took me for a drink in her Parish. Two men joined us (her Vicar’s Warden and People’s Warden)
“Do you sing Tenor” one asked me
“Yes” I replied
“Do you know the Cantata ‘Olivet to Calvary”
“Yes” I replied
“Would you like to help our Church and Choir by singing the tenor lead” he queried.
“I’m not confirmed” I told him
“Don’t worry about that” he assured me, “I know all about your work, experience and qualifications. I went to Evensong the following week and met the Vicar. They had two Churches and two Clergy Houses but only one incumbent.
To keep the story brief – I sang at Evensong – loved it – embarked on a course of exams, qualified, married the girl and our first house was the Clergy House of the Daughter Church. Soon I was booked to take Services at other Churches in the Diocese – and indeed in other Cities in Scotland and England – even deputising for a Lord at a Rally in Liverpool!
The Methodist Church cancelled my Membership and asked for the return of my Class Ticket which I still have to this day.
I formed a Youth Gospel Choir in my own Parish – a very tough area.
The popularity of the Choir grew rapidly and soon we were asked to sing at other Churches throughout the Region, and Broadcast on BBC Regional Radio (Before Local Radio) and Tyne Tees Television.
The Church Council sent for me (Promotion?) No chance!
“You’ve got Catholics, Methodists and others who are nothing?? In your choir. Your job here is to get them confirmed into the Church of England” I was told.
“Where does it say that in the Bible” I asked.
Their reply stunned me “Until you have them confirmed into the Church of England you cannot train them on Church property”
Was this the same Church and Church Council, who knowing I was neither Church of England (Anglican) nor confirmed invited me to don their robes and sing in their choir – what hypocritical tosh.
I resigned on the spot. Hired the Co-op Hall and continued my work. The Vicar of a large Church in the next Parish kindly offered me his Church.
Then an Independent Movement offered me their Chapel and Hall to continue my work. Their committee resigned allowing me to take over.
Parents of my Choir members, though not Anglican, were warned not to allow their children to become part of our "breakaway" movement! Others were actually told that the Church would refuse to marry, baptise or bury members of families who persisted in following me.
Even more parents joined us, including John Cunningham and his wife, Mary. John said, "I'm a Catholic, son and I couldn't support you in the Church of England, but now you're on neutral ground, I've come to join you." Their daughter, Linda, was a dedicated member of the choir who became our Deaconess 25 years later. People joined our fledgling movement who had never been part of a religious movement before. Men that I won from the local pub would come to Services – leave at seven in the evening to go to the pub, but they served me and the Cause with loyalty and devotion I had never seen before.
It was there that I held the first World Brotherhood Concert with Indian/Jewish/Catholic/Hindu and many other Religious Sects taking part – highlighting my principal beliefs “One God – One People”
Over the years God honoured our work and our movement which grew from strength to strength – finally settling on the name Byker Mission. Soon we outgrew the buildings and after a short stay in a former Roman Catholic Church, we finally purchased the 1,000 seater North Tyneside Memorial Church which we filled to capacity every week. People queued for hours before the Service just to get a seat.
So there is much more to this story – but this will do for a start at answering the question which provoked this piece.
Frank Wappat
