Reverend Verner A. Vanderhoof and First Baptist Church of Scottsdale

Part One

The story and person of Verner A. Vanderhoof is tightly bound to the history of First Baptist Church of Scottsdale. Rev. Vanderhoof led a full life for Christ and was a leading representative of our church during his life in Arizona. There are a sizable number of saved photos and documents, of, taken by, written by, or about Rev. Vanderhoof in the church archives. In a real sense, he was our first historian, and we are grateful to him for this among his many efforts on behalf of FBCS and for God.

Chaplain Winfield Scott is looked upon as the founder of our church. Actually, Chaplain Scott died on October 19, 1910, some two years and eight months before the meeting in the Vanderhoof home resulted in the creation of First Baptist Church of Scottsdale. There is little doubt, however, that the famous chaplain was the spiritual founder of our church. As we are told by Richard Lynch in his excellent work Winfield Scott, a Biography of Scottsdale’s Founder, Scott had made a will in 1904, but just a few day before his death wrote a special testament to the people of Scottsdale.

“‘My Dear neighbors and Friends:

As I feel myself drawing near to the other world, my heart goes out to you every one, young and old, with a longing I have never known before. I have a few things which have made my life rich, and I have now but one desire; that is that you all may enjoy them with me.

‘He bequeathed several Christian ideas to his friends and then ended with one last bequest.

‘’I leave to you my work in Scottsdale. I had planned to do much this winter with you, but God has called me. If you take this work and do it, and enlarge it as God gives you strength, you will receive my blessing and His.’”

Verner A. Vanderhoof was the primary man who read Scott’s “one last bequest” and performed the exhortations to give great assistance to the founding move and physical founding of First Baptist Church of Scottsdale.

From 1953 and into 1956, Rev. Vanderhoof wrote two drafts of the history of FBCS and three drafts of his personal history. In 1987 these five documents were edited, rewritten and compiled into two documents by Pat Dauwalder of FBCS. A series of three articles written by Edith L. Gibson, a former member of FBCS, about Vanderhoof appeared in the Scottsdale Daily Progress in May 1962. Other information has come from Baptist publications and other sources and some liberty has been taken from all in compiling the following history of the Reverend.

The young man from Kansas and his family

Verner A. Vanderhoof was born April 11, 1872 in Paola, Miami County, Kansas. His parents moved shortly after his birth to a farm about 4 miles west of that town. There he and his two brothers and two sisters grew up and attended the Mound Valley Public School.

Paola, Kansas is about 35 miles south of Kansas City, Kansas and a few miles north of Osawatomie and just to the west off US 169.

His parents were natives of Ohio. His father, Dennis Vanderhoof, was of early Dutch stock and his mother, Lucy Ford Vanderhoof, a distant relative of Henry Ford, was the youngest of 7 children, 3 boys and 4 girls. Dennis had 1 sister and 1 half sister. Both of their mothers married again after being widowed.

Dennis Vanderhoof and Lucy’s 3 brothers were all soldiers in the Civil War. Lucy’s eldest brother, Ozias Ford was killed in the battle of Gettysburg. Dennis and Lucy married in Ohio and shortly after, in 1871, they and Dennis’ sister and her husband moved to Kansas and lived in Paola until homes could be constructed for all of them on the farms.

Vanderhoof in the Arizona Territory

Verner came to Phoenix, Arizona Territory, in late November 1892. Needing work, on December 9, 1892, he came to the F.F. Titus fruit ranch 3 miles S.E. of where downtown Scottsdale is now located. The only other residents in Scottsdale at that time were Chaplain Winfield Scott and his wife (Scottsdale was named after Winfield Scott in 1896), professor George Blount and his wife (she opened the first store and started the school, he was the first Principal of Phoenix Union High School).

The first Gibson Daily Progress article elaborates on Vanderhoof’s arrival in Phoenix and his winding up at the Frank Titus Ranch:

He recalled vividly the day a long train huffed and puffed, blasted and shrieked through the Valley of the Sun, leaving him, a shy youth of twenty, alone on the platform at the frontier town of Phoenix. Homesickness doubtless written all over him, he looked around.

There was not much to see. What is now the great metropolis of the Southwest, was a cluster of shacks. Hitching posts lined the main street where dust, pawed by horses’ feet lay inches deep. Half-naked Indian and Mexican children played in the sunshine. The warmth impressed him. It was mid-November and should be cold.

On the farm near Paola, Kansas, Verner had helped with outside work till it seemed his frail body could never be warm again. The doctor had advised a milder climate. His parents had co-operated. So, here he was, a stranger in a strange land, meager belongings packed into one small bag, pockets nearly empty of cash.

He must find a place to stay. Did the station agent know a place? He didn’t. The lad walked up and down the dusty street. He found a man building a room onto his shack. Would he rent it? Perhaps, but there was no furniture. Verner helped bring a cot from somewhere and rejoiced to find shelter, rest.

When strong enough, he looked for work. Perhaps the grocer needed a delivery boy. No. “Folks come after their things,” was the reply. Everywhere response was similar.

Beginning to despair, he received a letter from his mother with some money and this advice: “Find a job as soon as you can, son. Your father and I don’t want you running the streets. We want you to get an education.” Thus encouraged, he renewed his efforts.

One day he heard some men on the street talking of a wealthy rancher from “back east” who needed help. Verner stepped up. “Where could I find him?”

“It’s fourteen miles,” one man observed.

“He could ride with the mailman,” another said.

Vanderhoof did just that. Four miles from the ranch the carrier “turned off,” leaving the lad to walk the rest of the way. The ranch house was large, a veritable mansion to the eyes of the Kansas boy. It would be wonderful living there. Mr. Titus, the rancher, was at home. He looked at the boy dubiously but hired him. “I’ll show you your quarters,” he said.

“Quarters” turned out to be a sort of “pup tent,” crude, unheated. “You’ll sleep here,” Titus said. “Meals will be sent out.”

So he was not to live at the big house! He found that he was not even to enter it. Kansas farm hands had been on an equality with the family. This man treated them as servants. Food was poor, the work hard, but Vanderhoof stayed nine months, because, as he said long after, “Jobs were scarce, and I was a long way from home.”

Always blessed with a sense of humor Vanderhoof found amusement even here. One morning, he was roused by such noise from the kitchen of the “Big House” that he went over. An argument between the Spanish butler and the Chinese cook was nearing the danger stage, he swearing in Spanish, she replying in Chinese, emphasizing her words with brandishing pots and pans. Verner remonstrated in English, which neither understood. “And there we were,” he said, “when Titus walked in, I got out.”

The Frank Titus Home