In Zion, Illinois, the police carried quilts fifteen feet square for wrapping up any woman caught wearing knickers on her way to jail. The man who ordered it also ran the church, owned nearly every major business in town and broadcast on one of the most powerful radio stations in America. He also had the town's schoolchildren taught that the earth was flat.
His name was Wilbur Glenn Voliva. He didn't build Zion. He took it.
A hut across from the fair
Zion began with John Alexander Dowie, an evangelist and faith healer who came to the United States from Australia in 1888 and landed in San Francisco with a hundred dollars to his name. He quickly turned faith healing into a booming mail-order business. With the World's Fair coming to Chicago in 1893, Dowie saw a crowd of future customers.
The fair refused to recognize his divine healing association as a real church and shut him out of its Avenue of Churches. So Dowie set up shop across the street from the entrance, in what he called Tabernacle Number One and Chicagoans called a little wooden hut. Its walls were hung with canes, crutches and orthopedic shoes, which he said had belonged to people healed so completely they no longer needed them. His business had a neat escape hatch: healing came only from God and required faith, so if a cure failed, the patient simply hadn't believed hard enough.
His big break was Sadie Cody, niece of Buffalo Bill Cody. Her back gave out in Chicago, and doctors at home in Indiana said nothing could be done. She wrote to Dowie, who mailed back a prayer and a specific time to pray it. She improved, came back to Chicago, and after he laid hands on her she declared, "now I stand before you with both limbs of equal length."
Utopia, no whistling
By 1896 Dowie had founded his own Christian Catholic Church. It had no connection to Rome, and he'd written a pamphlet called Rome's Polluted Springs. He secretly bought up ten square miles of lakefront land about 40 miles north of Chicago and founded Zion there in July 1901. Smoking, drinking, dancing, card games and theater were all banned. So were pork, oysters, spitting, swearing, tan-colored shoes, politicians and doctors, and nobody could drive faster than ten miles an hour. Whistling on a Sunday meant jail. Residents didn't even own their land. They held 1,100-year leases that came with 75 restrictions. The faithful poured in anyway, and at its peak the Zion Lace Works employed more than 3,000 people.
One of Dowie's most devoted followers was Voliva, a church elder sent to run the Australian branch. He got himself convicted and fined there for making threats, including the line "You'll have your head shifted."
In 1905 Dowie, then 58, had a stroke and asked Voliva to come home as temporary overseer. Voliva landed in February 1906. On April 2, at a secret session in Dowie's own temple, the church voted unanimously to declare its founder insane. Dowie's wife and son voted with everyone else. The real issue was money: Dowie had run the Zion Bank as an unincorporated business under his sole control, and his mismanagement had become a scandal. When he came back that May and called Voliva's supporters "a faction of thieves and robbers," the congregation jeered, someone called the police about a riot, and two attendants carried the frail prophet out.
Checks payable to the prophet
Voliva's prize turned out to be a church six million dollars in debt, roughly 216 million in today's money. Within nine months he was handing Zion's industries over to creditors. So he took to the pages of Leaves of Healing, the Zion Herald and later his own Zion City Theocrat, asking for money to save Zion with a mix of guilt, obligation and scripture. The instructions were clear: payments "should be made payable to Wilbur Glenn Voliva."
Not the church. Him. By early 1910 he owned essentially every major business in Zion, all bought with church money and put in his own name.
At home he was just as ruthless. When his wife, Molly, fell ill in 1913, he refused to let her see a doctor, even though her doctor was her own father. "Your faith in God is the only medicine you need," he insisted. She suffered for more than a year and died in February 1914.
Wilbur Glenn Voliva didn't just preach that the earth was flat. He owned the town and controlled its school board, so more than a thousand children in Zion were officially taught that the world is a disc with a wall of ice around the edge.
The flat earth, officially
That August, Voliva turned on astronomy. If the world was whizzing through space, he asked, "How is the Lord gone to light on it?" By December he had it figured out: the earth was a flat plane that sat still on water, gravity was nonsense, and "I get my astronomy from the Bible."
One of his men, Anton Darms, combed the Bible for proof, including the angels standing at the four corners of the earth in Revelation. His reward was the top job running Zion's new church-run schools. Darms wrote the lessons, hired the teachers and required that students be taught the earth is flat. Voliva's Theocratic Party controlled the school board, so nobody objected.
More than a thousand children learned about a flat, round world with the North Pole in the center, no South Pole, and a wall of ice around the edge to keep sailors from falling off. The principal, Miss Thompson, reported that the children preferred their new flat world to the old-fashioned round one.
In 1922 Voliva launched WCBD, a 5,000-watt radio station, and thundered against "the devil's triplets": astronomy, evolution and higher criticism, the scholarly practice of reading the Bible in light of when and where it was written. He offered $5,000 to anyone who could convince him the earth was a globe. Nobody collected. The sun, he explained, was just 32 miles across and no more than 3,000 miles away. Why would God put the lamp for Zion in Kenosha, Wisconsin? He taught that there were three flat heavens, a flat purgatory and a flat but "slightly insipid hell." Coming from a man who hated whistling, dancing and oysters, you'd expect a hotter one.
A globe on his car
Outside Zion, people saw Voliva as a scheming crackpot. Inside, police checked women's necklines, since a visible collarbone was forbidden. By December 1929 his net worth was reportedly five million dollars. Then the Great Depression hit. Hauled before Congress in 1933 on election fraud charges, he announced, "I'm a theocrat." By the end of May, Zion was under federal control to pay off its debts. Voliva owed more than half a million dollars and claimed to have nothing, while workers at Zion's businesses had gone two years without a paycheck and still had to show up.
A disgruntled employee set fire to the Shiloh Tabernacle. Voliva declared personal bankruptcy. His opponents took over the town and then added a final insult: they redesigned the sticker every car in Zion had to display, and Voliva had to put a globe on his.
He had predicted the end of the world for 1923, 1927, 1930, 1934 and 1935, then pushed Armageddon back to 1943. He died on October 12, 1942, at 72. Zion is still there, home to about 25,000 people, and whistling won't land anyone in jail.
