Salvation Army: No $1K bill -- but a big thank you

Jan. 18—Earlier that week, someone associated with the Salvation Army here took a call.

"Hey, " ventured the anonymous voice.

"You may want to check out the kettle at the Walmart in University Town Centre. Yeah, any time between 1 and 3, on Friday. You're welcome. You have a Merry Christmas, too."

If you grew up here, or you've lived here long enough, you'll know that the above wasn't just any call.

It was THE call.

It was the continuance of a unique, Yuletide tradition of outreach that's been part of Morgantown's holiday season since 1978.

That was the year offerings of $1, 000 began showing up in those red kettles around town, during bell-ringing season.

Besides the altruism, there was the fun of it all, too.

How's it going to show up, this time ?

One year, you might get a total of 10 bills (all $100s) with another $1 bill wrapped around them, just for the fiscal subterfuge.

Gold coins in that amount, all legitimate currency, have also been fished from kettles before.

So have random cashier's checks—with the name of the remitter always listed as, "Anonymous Donor."

However, when it comes to the marquee offering of this marquee outreach ... Cleveland rocks.

As in, Grover Cleveland, the twice-elected U.S. president whose somewhat stern countenance adorns the now-uncirculated $1, 000 bill, which traditionally hits the kettle.

Except for Christmas 2022.

Could be the weather was to blame.

The "Friday " the caller was referring to was Friday, Dec. 23, when that bomb cyclone system was tearing across the region.

Said cyclone sent the mercury on a dangerous, sub-arctic plummet.

Temperatures spiraled downward as much as 30 degrees in 30 minutes, in many cases—and when that same person who called earlier called again that Friday, it was to say he couldn't get his car out of his driveway, to get to the kettle.

That person hasn't called back since, Salvation Army Capt. Dennis Smith said Wednesday.

As much as he appreciates the dollars, Smith just wants to make sure the donor is well.

The person could be elderly or infirm, he said.

"We want to be there for them, like they've been here for us over the years."

Smith, meanwhile, has been here since June.

He and his wife, Jane, also a Salvation Army captain—"Even if she outranks me in every way possible, " her husband said, teasing—had headed the Mercer County detachment in Bluefield before their posting here.

Before that, they were working with the Salvation Army in Baltimore.

Dennis Smith, who calls Atlanta his hometown, comes from a military family and grew up on bases around the world.

Jane is an Iowa native.

The Salvation Army has been part of their lives "since forever, " Dennis said.

He was a district manager of a company in Atlanta where she helped manage shelters for the Salvation Army. Their five children have also grown up in the organization, he said.

"We were affiliated with the Salvation Army for more 30 years before we went full-time, " he said.

"That's why we appreciate all our donors, and all our volunteers. We know what their dollars do and we know what their hearts do."

He and Jane were still unpacking boxes when the question was posed: "You know about the $1, 000 bill, right ?"

"That's the first thing you hear about when you get here, " he said.

The bill that has hit kettle over the years is always from the 1928 series—leaving longtime residents to muse if the money isn't a vehicle of altruism from the great beyond.

One of the more persistent rumors is that the outlay is courtesy of the estate of Hale J. Poston, a Morgantown attorney who reportedly willed that amount to go as an annual donation to The Salvation Army after his death.

The kettles, meanwhile, are beyond symbolic, Capt. Dennis Smith said.

This year's drive brought in around $50, 000 for the Morgantown-based operation that tends to people and families in Monongalia, Preston and Monongalia counties.

Kettle coins help pay for Christmas gifts, hot meals, warm clothes and much-needed social services, the captain said.

A $1, 000 benefactor, he said, is priceless.

At the very least, the director decreed, a thank you is the reasonable response for any season.

"We all hope they know how much we appreciate them and what energy and excitement they've provided for nearly a half a century."

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