Newspaper Article

Drumming out Drummond
By Gil Spencer
Delaware County Daily Times 9/14/88

We are standing outside the Swarthmore Community Center waiting in the cool night air while inside the board of directors tries to figure out a way to keep the Church of Our Saviour out of their center without getting their ears sued off.

The Church of Our Saviour and its leader, the Rev. Frederick Drummond, have been the subject of voluminous newspaper stories, written mostly by former Daily Times staff writer Bill Alnor, and mostly unread by the board of directors of the Swarthmore Community Center.

Alnor is a born-again Christian who has a special interest in exposing religious cults. He is writing a book on the subject. To Drummond Alnor is a pit bull terrier who has latched on to his leg and won't let go.

Wherever Drummond goes, whether it's back to his homeland of South Africa or down to Wilmington or out to Villanova, Alnor sniffs him out and writes about what he's up to. Whether Drummond is filing for bankruptcy or being accused of coercing some followers, Alnor is there tapping away at his computer and sending us stories.

According to Alnor, Freddy Drummond makes Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart look like the Hardy Boys.

But last August when Drummond's representative offered to pay for the right to hold services at the community center, the board graciously accepted. Now that they know who Drummond is and what his church is all about, they want him O-U-T of their center.

Tonight, Drummond isn't here. Neither is Bill Alnor. It's just me, reporter Rose Quinn and photographer Pete Zinner for the newspaper, a second-string minister from the church, a lawyer and a stenographer.

We're all standing out here together waiting for the board to invite representatives from the church inside. Members of the press, we have been told by the board president, will not be extended the same courtesy.

Rose Quinn and I discuss the legality of this and consider calling the newspaper's attorney to demand entry to the meeting. Our soft hearts get the better of us, however. The board, we figure, has enough problems at the moment.

The minister from the Church of Our Saviour is a nice looking guy with red hair. He looks very pious but when I sneeze, he doesn't say, "God bless you." What can this mean?
I ask him a question. He declines to answer, he says, on the advice of his attorney.

"It's nothing personal," he says smiling.

The attorney's name is Bruce Rodger. He's with Kassab, Archbold, Jackson & O'Brien in Media and he says he and the minister are here because the board asked them to come.

We ask him some questions that he says he doesn't think it would be appropriate to answer. Rose asks him if he is a member of the church he is representing.

"No," he says. "And I don't want to say anything other than that I find that question personally offensive. A person's religion is nobody else's business."

This is a lawyer's trick to put a perceived opponent on the defensive. I tell him not to have a hissy, it's an innocent question.

"How would you like it if I asked you what religion you are?" he asks.

"I'm Episcopalian but I don't get to church much," I tell him.

In fact, the last time I went to church was when I went to services at the Church of Our Saviour in Concordville.

It was a pretty nice church. That was a year and a half ago. The church is now up for sale because of Drummond's financial problems. He is now reduced to scuffling around the Delaware Valley, trying to rent little community centers to hold services in their basements. It's really kind of pathetic!

After about 20 minutes, a board member invites the lawyer, the minister, and the stenographer inside and then shuts the door in the faces of the gentle people of the press.

We stand outside, peering in the windows of the center like hungry waifs watching a family eat Thanksgiving dinner.

Rose splits. She's got a deadline to meet. Zinner takes a few shots of the group through the window and takes off, too.

About 30 minutes later out comes Rodger, the minister and the steno woman. Rodger says the board hasn't made a decision yet (that's what he thinks) and is supposed to get in touch with him in the morning.

He splits, the minister splits, I split, the board stays and tries to figure out a way to give the Church of Our Saviour the old heave-ho.

Yesterday, Bruce Rodger complained that "the Swarthmoreans did not have the courtesy" to notify him personally of their decision concerning the lease. He had to read it in the newspaper.

He said his client has a written agreement to rent the center for $40 per session in the morning and $120 per session in the evening.

He said there was no "sandbagging" or "delusion" involved in getting the agreement.

When I asked him about possible legal procedings, he said "nothing has been ruled out."

This is not what the Swarthmoreans will want to hear.

"They play so rough we're scared to death," said one board member. "We're all very nervous. We have no idea what they're going to do now."

All I can suggest is what they should have been doing all along, and that is this: READ THE DAILY TIMES, YOU MOPES! We'll be sure to let you know.