In his peak years Lorenzo D. Rohrer was a director of the Third National Bank
of Cumberland, president of the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) and a
worker in behalf of community interests. At the First Baptist Church in Cumberland
he taught a men’s Bible class which even today bears his name. He also served as
president and vice president on the board of trustees, as church treasurer and as a
deacon for various periods.6
After the loss of his flour mill, my great-grandfather ran a small
distributorship for St. Joseph brand aspirin. Operating out of his home, he delivered,
on foot, orders to local retailers. At his advanced age - late seventies, early eighties
- the job was so physically demanding that others in the household, including Jeanette
and my mother, helped him as necessary.
In his latter years, which are the clearest to me, I see him sitting in a straight
chair next to the kitchen coal stove reading his Bible. I see him at meals at the kitchen
table. He would bow his head deeply to say grace, and Pershing and I would giggle
because we couldn’t understand what he said. His mealtime beverage of preference
was a cup of hot water with milk and sugar; sometimes he would ask for a bit of
coffee in it “just enough to flavor it a little."
I must have been a wild little rascal as I can still hear his “Now Billy! Now
Billy!" in a mild effort to bring me under control. He was hard of hearing, which
produced a family anecdote that has lasted all these years: In our catechism we
learned about venial sins, an example of which was a little lie, and Jeanette invented
“tell a venie" as a sort of euphemism for “tell a white lie." One day I asked,
“Grandpap, did you ever tell venies." and he replied, “How’s that. No, no, I never
did sell weenies." A sweet man.
My great-grandfather lived for a long time. My experience of his death is told
in chapter 5.
ii - William Dow Rohrer
I did not know my grandfather until I was about 13, simply because he left
f
a
m
i
l
y, home and town not long after I arrived in 1921. He was always referred
to as “Will" - never Dad or Granddad or such title. My father, writing to him
from France after World War I, called him “Father." To this day, Pershing and I
speak of “Will."
10
6Letter from Church Secretary, First Baptist Church, Cumberland, Md., to C. William Rohrer, Oct 10, 1989.
