I have mentioned, before, that I live in the Portland, OR metro area. I'm still anonymous, on here, but there is a very large concentration of Witnesses in the Portland area, and I think I'm pretty safe on this disclosure. Hopefully this next disclosure won't tip my hand to the undercover Witness loyalists. :)
In the mid-to-late 80's, F.W. Franz paid a visit to the Portland, OR area. He would have been in his late 80's or early 90's. It was one of those totally unscheduled, huge event, carnival atmosphere kind of deals where he just got a wild hair and came out to the West Coast (though I'm sure there is more to the story than that.) I was a preteen. My father was an elder and my mother a long-time pioneer. The event was run invitation only, so it was pretty exclusive, but even so the Woodburn, OR Assembly Hall was totally packed out standing room only.
I remember very little of his actual talk--it was very long and rambling, I remember that, and he prayed at the end for what must have been 10 or 15 minutes. He was almost completely blind, and wore these coke-bottle style classes. He was a very small man and looked as though he suffered from osteoporosis, all hunched over and gnarled. His head was attended only by a few wispy hairs and mottled with liver spots. In short, he was not long for this world. A couple of bodyguards (for lack of a better word) followed him everywhere, guiding him since he was blind and "making a lane" for him to get through crowds.
Afterward there was a reception for him at a local community center. This function was even more exlusive than the first one--but we were again invited.
For some reason everyone showed up at the reception about half an hour before Franz himself did. Time drug on, people got restless and the kids, especially, grew wild. When children have been cooped up in cars for hours and required to be quiet at public meetings for even more hours, the energy builds up and restlessness grows. When an opportunity to release that energy presents itself, sometimes quite dramatic things can happen.
I believe we were playing some form of tag.
We were outside, us kids, running around madly, screaming, tackling each other (in our best meeting clothes, too!) The parents seemed disinclined to do anything about it, and the feedback loop that so often develops in such situations quickly took things to a fever pitch.
I was running, screaming, at one point, looking over my shoulder at my pursuer, and I collided, bodily and heavily, with another person. I heard a desperate little kind of gasp or wheeze come from my victim. Someone shouted and pushed me away. I turned, slowly, with much trepidation, dreading what I'd see when I finally turned all the way around...
It was Franz.
He was sitting on the ground, staring at me with those coke bottle eyes... his mouth hung open, gaping in surprise. His attendants stared at me. I felt an instant punch in the stomach, but it was psychosomatic... nobody really punched me. I just felt this extreme guilt. Not only had I knocked over a nonogenarian, but it was the President of the Watch Tower Society!
I... me... under_believer on this forum... "met" F.W. Franz by knocking him on his ass while playing tag.
I have never felt so guilty about anything else in my entire life, including many indiscretions as an adult. I still feel guilty about it to this day. What kind of kid knocks over a 90 year old man? Of course it was an accident, but I should have been paying more attention.
In any case, his guards helped him back to his feet, staring at me all the time. He hobbled (with help) into the reception. I never went in there. In fact I hovered out by our car the entire time, because I didn't want them to find out who my parents were. Not only was I afraid of getting into trouble myself, but I was afraid it could spell trouble for my mom and dad.
My parents never found out. I never heard anything else about it. And nobody, except for Franz, his bodyguards, the kid who was chasing me, and anybody THEY told, ever knew about this secret chapter in the history of Jehovah's Witnesses... the day that the fourth President was attacked in Portland, OR.
TRUE STORY--I Met F.W. Franz
by under_believer 27 Replies latest jw friends
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under_believer
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luna2
I shouldn't laugh about an elderly man getting knocked on his butt by a rowdy JW kid, but I am. Poor old Freddy!
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Fleshybirdfodder
It's ok. You needn't feel guilty. He is in heaven now, and he can tell the angels exactly where to direct the fire and sulphur.
FBF
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DanTheMan
Knocked him right out of his brown shoes eh? Poor old delusional cult leader!
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juni
That was a smart move you did by covering your ass and that of your parents!!!! Though like you had said you shouldn't have been running. But kids cooped up for hours will go crazy.
Juni
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M.J.
The funniest story I've heard about FW Franz came from seven006. Since you're relatively new here, perhaps you haven't seen it. It's a hoot.
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Warlock
Under:
You know you're going to Hell for that, don't you.
I guess I'll have to save 2 seats now. One for you and one for Mr. Gumboni.
Warlock ("the one who knows where he's going")
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M.J.
Great story. All I can say is....wow.
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Poztate
I have never felt so guilty about anything else in my entire life, including many indiscretions as an adult. I still feel guilty about it to this day. What kind of kid knocks over a 90 year old man? Of course it was an accident, but I should have been paying more attention.
In any case, his guards helped him back to his feet, staring at me all the time. He hobbled (with help) into the reception.His handlers should have felt guilty..not you. It was their job to protect jehobers annointed. You will still be in poop though since now freddy and jesus are getting ready to smoke anyone not of the "firm" jw faith. I am sure your name is on the list..
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parakeet
***"He was almost completely blind, and wore these coke-bottle style classes. He was a very small man and looked as though he suffered from osteoporosis, all hunched over and gnarled. His head was attended only by a few wispy hairs and mottled with liver spots."***
Your description of him reminds me of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. About the same personality, too. That means you must be Bart!