JOHN HENRY STRONG 1867-1960

On January 19 of this year, the American Alpine Club’s oldest member, Dr. John Henry Strong, died in Santa Barbara, California, at the age of 93.

Dr. Strong was a Baptist minister and teacher, and the son of one. As a boy he loved the outdoors and used to roam the woods around Rochester, New York, with a pal and a gun, taking pot shots at every hawk and rabbit in sight. He was a hard worker at his studies and, indeed, at everything, well motivated, as they would call it now. His Andover schooling and college days at Rochester University and Yale were a delight to him. From them he gained a sound educational background and warm friendships that lasted his entire life. He had a deep love for music and was exceptionally gifted, not only as a performer on the piano and organ but as a composer. "I wanted very much to be a musician,” he occasionally said in later years, but that his inner struggle led him finally into the Christian ministry he never once regretted.

After graduating from the Rochester Theological Seminary in 1893, the young man’s first ministerial charge was a summer practice assignment. Here, as he was fond of telling, his duties included opening and sweeping out the church, ringing the bell, playing the organ, preaching the sermon, passing the plate, saying the benediction, and then locking up until the next service. Afterwards there were pastorates in Ohio, Connecticut and Maryland, but almost as many years were spent in teaching at Rochester and at the Biblical Seminary in New York City. His strong religious faith, breadth of intellect and interest, and a truly remarkable gift for words distinguished him both in the pulpit and in the classroom and he left a deep and lasting impression on the lives of many who sat under him.

Dr. Strong’s gentle and sensitive spirit made for a certain wear and tear in living, particularly in the early years. In strainful eras he always got great comfort from the piano, playing with his musician’s touch the exquisite melodies of Mozart and Beethoven. The habit of long country walks stood by him too, and from occasional New England camping trips he would return rested and restored. From time to time he, and the family that he had by now, packed up for Europe, living en pension in university towns while he studied Greek, New Testament interpretation and the like. In these and later years he wrote many articles on religious subjects and several widely read books.

With the passing of time, outside pressures and responsibilities lessened and a new freedom began to come into his life. At an age when most people’s zest for living tends to diminish, Dr. Strong took on an added vigor and capacity for enjoyment that were wonderful to see. In the summer of 1924, when he was 57, his first mountaintop postcard arrived from Switzerland with the message, "Look where I was yesterday!” It came from Adelboden. He had been watching the climbing parties on the Wildstrubel through the hotel telescope. Later he stopped one of the guides homeward bound over the cobblestones and asked, ”Ist es sehr schwer?” The man allowed as how it wasn’t very difficult and suggested they tackle the peak next day. This they did. Dr. Strong had the time of his life.

Seven happy climbing seasons followed. With Antoine Georges of Arolla, he established one of those rare and perfect climbing partnerships. The technique required to enable a man of his age to make the classic alpine tours served only to heighten the pleasure of their undertakings. The slow and measured pace, the carefully planned schedule, the gradually rising scale of difficulty, with nothing attempted before the necessary strength and skill were there, these made for the greatest possible enjoyment of what, for these two, were matchless spiritual experiences. They had over 50 ascents together, including the Matterhorn, Weisshorn, Dent Blanche and Monte Rosa in the Zermatt area, the Finsteraarhorn, Wetterhorn and Aletschorn in the Oberland, Mont Blanc, and the top peaks of Arolla and the Engadine.

Their eighth summer they had a newcomer along: Dr. Strong’s daughter. What an introduction to mountaineering this was for her! Her two teachers were endlessly patient ; laughter and affection abounded. Nobody was in a rush. There seemed always to be time to enjoy everything, to look around, to assimilate the varied events and lessons of the day. On each summit they really settled down. What fun to exchange cheerful comments with the others on top and join in when someone struck up a tune! True, this elderly man, now in his mid sixties, had to pay a price for every peak he climbed. The long descents, especially, were tiring. However, the jour de repos that followed each ascent invariably restored him and his past weariness seemed only to add to the value of what the day had brought. It was truly amazing to see how, on the mountain, he could give everything that was required. His family cherishes a snapshot taken of him in 1936 on the summit of the Dent Blanche, which he had climbed, in bad weather, and for the second time. Everyone on the mountain top on that stormy day was giving this 69 year old man an enthusiastic hand.

Although Switzerland was particularly dear to Dr. Strong, he enjoyed other areas as well, like the high country of Colorado, the Canadian Rockies, and the wonderful mountaineering playground of the Tetons to which he returned again and again.

He joined the American Alpine Club in 1926 and had many warm friends among its members. For years it was his custom to attend the annual meetings. At one of them, as some may remember, he gave a delightful talk entitled, "Mountaineering, a Solace for Sedate Old Age.” He must have established some kind of record on this occasion for his remarks lasted exactly the 10 minutes allotted. There was also an article by him in the 1945 issue of the A.A.J. on "Swiss Mountaineering in 1859,” telling of his father’s impressions on visiting Zermatt as a young man.

When the time finally came when he had to give up the high peaks, Dr. Strong accepted the fact philosophically. He was still able to walk strongly. Long rambles like the Höhbalm walk above Zermatt, the climb to the top of Buckskin Pass near Aspen and the lovely tour to Holly Lake in the Tetons continued to delight him. Later on, as strength dwindled, the ability he had always had to project himself into the lives and experiences of others became even more pronounced and endearing. What a wonderful listener he was ! And he loved, of course, to think and talk about the adventures of the past. He continued to play his piano and to keep in touch through letters with a host of devoted friends. Now living in California, he never tired of the view from his hilltop above Santa Barbara and wrote constantly of the pleasure he still had in taking short walks on the trails behind his house.

His last illness, fortunately, was not long and the discomforts of the final days did not dim for him the vision ahead. One of his remarks towards the end was characteristic of him and of his outlook throughout life. "There is a great exhilaration,” he said, "in being on the threshold of the next world.” Going from one world to the other must have been, for him, much like the step over a crevasse on a great mountain climb. One may be sure that he made it strongly and with confidence, just as he used to do in the happy climbing days that meant so much to him.

Elizabeth S. Partridge