The Litzenberger Family of St. John’s Lutheran Church

By Wally Ely

For St. John’s 150^th Anniversary

June 2005

On a pew end in the balcony above the new Stenger Gathering Place (the old Narthex), you can find engraved into the wood the name “Anna Litzenberger.” The Anna and Wilson Litzenberger family purchased the pew near the rear of the main sanctuary during the 1930’s construction campaign before the new church building was opened in 1938. This long mahogany pew was removed to the balcony during construction and expansion of the new Narthex in 2003. Other memorial engravings and dedications may be seen on the walls, the pillars, and other woodwork around the sanctuary.

The event that inspired me to write about the Litzenberger family was the death of the Anna and Wilson Litzenberger’s only son, Theodore, on Sunday, January 11, 2004. Theodore Wilson Litzenberger AIA was born May 25, 1936. The only member of the original Litzenberger family of Allentown still living is Ted’s sister, Phyllis Libera, of Woodbury, Minnesota. Ted was married – and divorced - from Mae. They had two daughters: Susan and Diane. Ted later married Andra, and acquired two stepdaughters, Evia and Daiga. Phyllis married a son of a St. John’s family, Robert Burkholder, but Bobby died very young. The Burkholders had one child, Cathy. Phyllis later remarried; she is now Mrs. Thomas Libera

In the 1940’s and 1950’s, Ted’s father, Wilson Litzenberger operated a service station in the 2000 block of Tilghman Street at Albright Avenue in Allentown. It was called “Wilson’s Tydol.” Wilson pumped gas and repaired automobiles in his shop along what was then Route 22 – the major east-west route between Harrisburg and New York City in the pre-Route 22 Thruway days. There is a large office building - the 2030 Building - on that site today. The Lehigh Valley Transit Company trolley tracks ran along Albright Avenue next to Wilson’s business, and crossed Tilghman Street right next to the gas station. This made for the thrill of seeing hubcaps shaken loose from cars as they bounced across the trolley tracks, the hubcaps rolling across Wilson’s driveway and stopping in front of the service station. Wilson had quite a collection of the old hubcaps. Any customer who came in missing a hubcap, Wilson found a match in the pile, and gave it to him.

Wilson’s Dad was “Pop” – who backed up Wilson and managed the office duties while Wilson wielded the wrenches repairing cars.

When I was a teen-ager, Wilson hired me to pump gas and wash cars along with Ted. He even trusted me to change oil and filters in customer cars occasionally. That exposure to automobiles gave me the groundwork and understanding of how engines operate, and brought me into contact with repair situations on a daily basis. Regular gas was $.149 a gallon for regular when I worked there. Yes, fifteen cents! We checked the oil and washed the windows with every gas purchase.

A car wash was two dollars. I learned from Ted and Wilson how to wash a car properly. I was eager to learn, because a good wash job usually resulted in a tip of a few coins – sometimes a quarter or more. One of our best car wash customers also was a member of St. John’s. Frank Reisner was an insurance man who usually had a brand new Plymouth, always red! He was a regular customer every Saturday, and a big tipper – so we always took the best care of him!

I remember the two neighborhood Jewish men – brothers, who depended upon Wilson to keep their aging vehicles running. It was obvious when one of them was around; we could hear them call out to “Meees-ter Weeel-son.” Rarely would one find a trusting, friendly relationship like that between a neighborhood garage man and his customers today.

When I was still only seventeen years old, Wilson made a success of my entry into the Atlantic Mileage Marathon, a contest for young drivers to teach driving economy. The idea was to see how far a driver could go on one gallon of gas. Entering in my Dad’s hand-me-down gray straight-six cylinder, standard shift, 1949 Plymouth, I asked Wilson for help setting my spark plugs and carburetor for the best fuel efficiency. Wilson took charge. He inserted a new set of plugs, with the gaps set to the widest setting they would take for the largest spark. He cleaned out my carburetor jets and set the jets to the leanest settings possible. He removed the air cleaner completely. Finally, he pumped up my tires to seventy pounds to reduce rolling friction. My Plymouth and I appeared at the Atlantic Gas Station on Hamilton Street where the Mini-Mart is now, next to Yocco’s. I registered and watched them attach a one-gallon bottle of gasoline to my engine – directly to the fuel pump. The bottle hung off the side of the fender. I was sent off on the one-mile route to determine how far I could drive on that one gallon of gas. The route was a closed loop - a closed circuit west on Hamilton Street, north on Ott Street, and east through Cedar Parkway, then back out onto Hamilton Street.

Following Wilson’s instructions, I kept the transmission in the highest gear possible, didn’t step on the gas, or accelerate fast, and coasted at every possible opportunity, including shutting off the engine for the longest coasting opportunities. When the event was nearly over, my car was one of two still running. I finished second, logging 24.76 miles around that loop on my one gallon. First place went to my friend Charlie Gerhart who ran almost thirty miles in his four-cylinder jeep. Wilson had volunteered to help me and we almost garnered first place in my little ’49 Plymouth coupe.

At St. John’s, Wilson served terms on the Vestry, and volunteered on the property committee. If they kept score, Wilson would have received the Perfect Attendance Pin. Wilson’s pre-war gray 4-door Plymouth was always parked on Fifth Street when there was a St. John ‘s church service under way. In memory of Wilson Litzenberger, to this day there is a brass dedication plaque attached to the sound system consol on the church balcony, constructed in memory of this fine gentleman’s loyalty to the congregation. That consol is now only a few feet from the memorial pew with his wife Anna’s name engraved.

Anna Litzenberger was a true joy to be around. She was a tiny lady with a great sense of humor and was always a lot of laughs. Anna’s family, the Geists, came from the Longswamp area in eastern Berks County. Anna brought her Pennsylvania Dutch cooking skills to bear with anything she touched in her busy kitchen. Anna was a living cookbook; she could serve family dinners with the best of them. Her legacy lives on in my memory as the baker of the most delicious dark chocolate cake – she called it “midnight” cake – with white icing. It was my favorite dessert of all time, and Anna saw to it that a cake arrived to help me celebrate each birthday well into my adult years.

Anna taught Sunday School at St. John’s for decades. She was responsible for the dependable flow of birthday cards to congregation members, and mailed reminders of church school events, as well as “We missed you this week” postcards. She helped several choir directors manage the Cantoria Choir children, at practice and at services. She was a one-lady “Order of St. John ‘s” director – long before there was an organization by that name. She helped guide and dress the acolyte members preparing to light the candles and assist the pastors.

When my parents moved from Reading to Wescosville around 1940, we acquired the Litzenbergers as neighbors, and luck came my way. My mother, Helen Ely, before her marriage a devout Roman Catholic, was not actively attending any church. My father, Thomas Garfield Ely, had no inclination toward any religion. Anna and Wilson sensed all this and asked if my parents would like to have like little Wally go to Sunday School at their church in Allentown with the Litzenberger children. My mother knew a golden opportunity when it confronted her, and she agreed to send me with the Litzenbergers to St. John’s. I eventually became confirmed at St. John’s and have been an active member of the congregation more than sixty years. Ultimately, after my dad passed away while my parents lived in Harrisburg, my mother moved back to Allentown and joined St. John’s, too.

When my parents moved into the city a few years later, we resided only one block away from St. John’s and I became very active there.

That brings me to my peers – Ted and Phyllis. Ted a year older than me – Phyllis, several years younger. Both children ultimately became active in youth events at St. John’s, and I became very close to Ted. We were active in anything that came along at the church, including the Cantoria Choir and Luther League. Ted and I were acolytes – literally every Sunday. And at every special service. There were a few other young men who flowed in and out of the team, but Ted and I were it most of the time during our elementary and Junior High School years, and into high school. Phyllis participated in most youth activities around the church.

Outside the church, Anna and Wilson convinced me to join a Cub Scout troop with Teddy when were kids. I enjoyed this experience greatly, but never did go on any farther into scouting as Ted did.

One year while we were both in junior high school, there was a shortage of Sunday School teachers in the elementary level, and Mrs. Ernst, the head of the department asked Ted and me to fill in. We ended up team-teaching Kindergarten classes into our High School years. What a challenge for both of us, but it brought a level of early responsibility to us beyond what we could have gotten elsewhere. And I learned how hard teaching really is! You have to prepare!

Indirectly, Teddy cost me my first real job while we were still in junior high school. Through some family connections, my Mom arranged to have a summer job offered to me at Classic Photo Laboratories in Allentown. This was just the right job for me. Although I was a lowly entry-level employee bagging pictures as they came off the belt from the dryer in the darkroom, it kept me in touch with the world of photography and some of the people in that field. A career in photography was remotely in my future. I bicycled to work every morning to the lab location in a basement of a row home at New and Tilghman Streets in Allentown. By mid-summer, Ted invited me to vacation with his family at the cabin they rented in Pike County in the Poconos along Lake Teedyuskung. I approached my boss, Frank Bendus, and told him of this opportunity and my desire to find a way to spend a week with Ted and his family in the mountains. Bendus was all business, and said the right thing. He told me that if I decide on the vacation over the job for that week, “Don’t come back!” I enjoyed my mountain vacation and got fired as a result. What a way to learn a lesson!

As teenagers, Ted and I were both interested in cars. Ted had the background (from his Dad). I learned as we went along. Two really big things happened to me due to the Ted Litzenberger inclination toward automobiles. First, I became Ted’s helper (what they call a go-fer) - in building his fiberglass sports car. Ted rented a garage behind a house on North St. Elmo Street, near Tilghman Street, right behind his dad’s gas station. There he dismantled a ’32 Ford Roadster he and his dad bought. He discarded the original body and read up on how things were built with fiberglass. He drew up a design for his dream car on the old chassis.

Ted built it almost single-handedly over a few months. Not having access to molds as the professionals do, Ted made just the “A” mold part of the process work out. He built a plaster mold, and hand sanded and smoothed the surface without the benefit of the customary “B” mold. He adapted parts that could be purchased in an auto parts store to finish the job. I remember that the round taillights were from a recent-vintage Pontiac. Truly unique was the fact that there were no doors on this sweet little yellow car. Driver and passenger hopped over the side and bounced into the seats. No doors? Heck, there was no top, and no windows (except the windshield.) Sleek and slim, it looked like Ted’s creation was going a hundred miles an hour while it was standing still!

One of my greatest thrills as a teenager was the ride Ted and I took to Trenton to look up a young lady that Ted needed to visit. It seemed like all eyes were on us as we cruised down Route 309, then over Route 73 and across the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge. And they were! Stopping for a red light brought gawkers pausing on the sidewalks, or even approaching Ted’s flashy car and firing questions as we waited at the intersections.

Ted eventually sold the car when he needed extra finances to pay tuition bills years later. Then, one day in the 1960’s I spotted the remains of Ted’s priceless, one-of-a-kind, gem sitting in a field near Riegelsville with weeds growing around and through it. Sad ending.

The second connection with cars in my life that I credit to Ted was my activities with the Lehigh Valley Timing Association. I can still picture the moment. We were standing on Ted’s porch at 1330 ½ Gordon Street in Allentown. Ted explained that he had heard of a meeting of a group of teen-agers that formed a hot rod club. Ted said they actually had the idea of running an off-street drag racing strip. Would I want to go along to a meeting? Would I! Let’s go! With this decision began an association with other young men interested in cars and racing. I didn’t know much about either, but would love to learn! Ted introduced me to Dopey Duncan, a local broadcaster, who became my mentor. Dopey was the driving force behind the Timing Association. Dopey later actually got me a job in radio broadcasting as a newsman. I worked for WKAP part-time, then full time starting in 1956 and ending in 1958. I owe Ted one for that favor!

A culture of safe driving and high visibility in the community made for a unique experience for these young men. With Dopey Duncan’s clout in the community, the kids in the LVTA (including Ted and me) actually operated successfully one of the first Drag Race strips on the east coast on a runway at Convair Airport (now Queen City Airport.) one Sunday a month for two summers. There were hundreds of entrants, and thousands of spectators each race date. Ted designed the logo for the LVTA, a design that is still in use today by alumni members of the old timing association. It shows a racecar flying though a clock face.

Ted went off to Penn State, then earned a Master of Science degree in Architecture from Columbia University and later earned a Doctor of Philosophy, as well.

Ted submitted an entry into a contest to design a shrine at Zion Reformed Church in Allentown. Ted’s design was chosen for first place, and today’s Liberty Bell Shrine at the church is a testimonial to Ted and his creativity.

Ted also designed the bookplate which appears inside the hymnals at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Allentown – it is a line drawing sketch of the alter, and has graced the inside covers of the hymnals for decades. Ted wrote a book “Startling Trends of Our Generation.” by T. Wilson Litzenberger. A copy may be found in the St. John’s library. (You can still buy it on Amazon.com). Ted also was very proud of a project on which he spent many years. He used the Old Testament of the Bible to trace the lineage of Jesus back to Adam and created a gigantic genealogy chart to display the results.

Ted’s thesis in college was developed about a need in his hometown. The huge empty lot south of the Hamilton Street Bridge over the Jordan Creek would be, under Ted’s design, turned into an Allentown Transportation Center. This would accommodate passenger train service, local and inter-city busses, helicopter service and local taxis. Ted won an award for his design. Unfortunately, the city never thought much of the idea and ignored its potential. Two years before his death, Ted revisited the site of his grand design, and learned that NOTHING had happened to that lot in the fifty years since he proposed a useful purpose for the property. He was aghast that the city could waste valuable center city land for decades unused. Further, on the same trip Ted was visibly annoyed that the Jordan Creek flows past center city and its potential is ignored. Ted could envision a park-like environment full of peace and serenity for the enjoyment of all. What he saw was a “tent city” for the homeless along the banks, with the stream fenced off from use by residents.

As a final affront to Ted’s visit to his old home community, Ted learned that there is no passenger train or trolley service (light rail) in the area. When Ted migrated to the West Coast, he made use of all these transportation opportunities. Here in Allentown, he commented, we tear down railroad stations or turn them into restaurants, and our local transportation system is made up of environmentally unfriendly busses.

After Ted returned home from architectural school successes, he learned his parents were planning to build a home on Lehigh Mountain, near the top, overlooking Emmaus. In fact, overlooking everything else in the Lehigh Valley as well. Ted designed and became the general contractor for the construction of the Litzenberger’s new residence. The home was a distinct departure from the basic homes along the Litzenbergers’ road. It had levels, glass, two levels of outside patios and one of the greatest views of the valley afforded anywhere. In 1962 Ted and Mae moved to Gig Harbor, Washington. There he built his architectural business and ventured into many offshoots, become a real entrepreneur and a highly respected businessman.

Ted’s legacy on the West Coast lives on through the buildings he designed. Ted was a partner in a large architectural firm. Educational, commercial, residential and medical projects all around Western Washington bear Ted’s stamp of creativity. His designs were frequent winners of top awards in his industry.

Ted retired only after the appearance of a brain tumor, which required surgery. Even while recovering from this affliction, Ted lived several years longer than his doctors predicted. Ted even made two trips east to the Lehigh Valley to see his old haunts, meet up with some old friends, and revisit St. John’s and other places of importance to him in his youth. G. Barry Kline, a member of St. John’s, hosted Ted and me for a cheese-steak dinner at the Brass Rail during Ted’s visit.

On January 11, 2004, Ted’s battle against the cancer that was ravaging him came to an end as he passed away peacefully at his home. His daughter said he had prepared for death and was “ready for it.” Ted’s Christian faith gave him strength to deal with the inevitable.

The legacy that Anna and Wilson Litzenberger and their two children left behind at St. John’s will be hard to match. This one of a kind family will never be forgotten.
Author’s Note: A few weeks after this story was completed and turned over to the St. John’s church office, June Sieger, church archivist, stopped me on a Sunday morning and told me about one additional memorial the Litzenbergers left at St. John’s. A pair of stained glass windows facing north, somewhat above the main entrance to St. John’s, is not readily visible from the sidewalk. The windows are in foyer of the “Bride’s Room” also used as a ladies rest room. The room has this unique nickname because brides use the foyer of the room on their wedding day making last minute touch-ups and awaiting their cue to march down the aisle. It has a full-length mirror. I remember my bride, Suzanne, using this facility before our wedding June 14, 1958.

Because of this “ladies room” location, I had never seen the memorial engraved in the stone below the window, but I’ve seen it now and it reads, engraved in the stone: “Anna and Wilson Litzenberger.” Thank you, June, for tipping me off to this one! And Thanks to the Anna and Wilson Litzenberger family for providing such an outstanding legacy for the church and the community!