The author of the Cookie Walk was John I. Kohler II, who, until shortly before his death in 1998, was the immensely talented “Peck’s Bad Boy” of the parish. He coined the name Cookie Walk soon after he assumed chairmanship of the Parish Life Committee—another term attributable to Jack.
Actually, Jack’s enduring legacy to Saint Stephen’s is the Parish Life Committee. It existed in embryo form as the Ad Hoc Committee at the time he assumed its chairmanship, but it was Jack who changed its name and galvanized it into action.
Folks shook their heads and muttered when Jack came up with “Cookie Walk.” But he was not to be gainsaid. And the fact that the words “Cookie Walk” still pull in the crowds close on a quarter of a century later is a vindication of his offbeat genius.
Jack had strong opinions about the dreaded “Every Member Canvass.” He firmly believed “giving” was not simply a question of cash. He maintained that it was an obligation every parishioner to support the church not only with their treasure, but with their time and their talents, too.
Thus, under his leadership, our pledge drives sought commitments under the slogan: “Time, talents, and treasure.”
Jack invariably springs to mind whenever we bemoan the desperate need for volunteers to serve on the Altar Guild, the Flower Committee, and as Coffee Hour hosts and hostesses. None of these vitally important jobs are particularly onerous. Nor are they “gender specific.”
Jack volunteered for all of them in his time. Indeed, surprisingly, perhaps, for such a tall, strapping individual, he had a remarkably deft hand when it came to flower arrangement.
(Saint Stephen’s most dramatic Christmas decorations are eloquent testimony to his artistry—the huge wreathes that grace the East Wall and the boxwood backdrop to the altar cross.)
You don’t need the talents of a Japanese noblewoman to be a member of the Flower Committee. If you have never arranged flowers before they will teach you how to do it. The same goes for the Altar Guild. All that is required is a modest commitment in time.
As far as Coffee Hour goes, the Parish Life Committee has decided to approach things slightly differently from the way things have been done in the past. Instead of obliging the Coffee Hour hosts to lay on the entire spread, the Committee will provide the food, while the hosts provide the service and the welcome. (If, of course, the hosts want to augment comestibles, they would be more than welcome!)
If you feel you could help out in one—or all of these capacities—we would very much appreciate it if you would call the Parish Office at (410) 560-6776. And if we are out visiting, please leave a message on the answering machine. It’s really not that difficult.
Certainly, it is nowhere near as embarrassing as trying to leave messages on a parish answering machine carrying spoof greetings, secretly recorded by Jack Kohler. People trying to reach the clergy would, to their astonishment, be told they had reached a Chinese laundry, an Indian restaurant, or a noisy Irish watering hole. Not all of Jack’s ideas were unreservedly welcome.
But with his passing, the Maryland Church lost one of its great “characters”—a vastly talented man with a broad spectrum of aptitudes, abilities, and interests, and still sorely missed by his friends with whom he worshipped, worked, and wrangled over the years.
Jack was a raconteur and wit, and a natural comedian who wrote, directed, and produced a wide range of dramatic entertainments, from historical vignettes to intimate cabaret. He had a fine eye for porcelain and silverware and an eclectic taste in art.
He stitched exquisite needlework and in his younger days, was much sought after as a lecturer and instructor on the subject at meetings of women’s clubs, associations, and altar guilds all over the city. He was also a talented calligrapher. Indeed, examples of his work can still be seen for sale in art shops.
In striking juxtaposition to his diverse artistic abilities stood Jack’s considerable prowess as a businessman. Indeed, his acumen in the stock market during the late 1980s and early 1990s won him national acclaim for his portfolio management.
Jack, in fact, was endowed with such a wide array of talents that had he concentrated on developing any single one of them, he would undoubtedly have reached the top of the tree. But Jack’s mind was too restless, too mischievous, too insatiably curious, to submit to being permanently tethered—even with golden chains.
A man born out of his time, Jack would have cut a notable dash as a 19th century actor/manager or swashbuckling 18th–century merchant adventurer. He would, to be sure, have made a perfectly terrifying Italian renaissance prince, but it is intriguing to imagine what the Sistine Chapel would have looked like if it had been a JIK, II, commission.
History’s loss was our gain: Jack’s abiding interest was the Church and he open-handedly shared his talents with many of the city’s churches.
Here at Saint Stephen’s, Jack was a catalyst for many of the activities and associations that have made major contributions to building our parish. Before we acquired the Mays Chapel property where the church now stands, Jack generously hosted parish picnics and parties at his home in the Greenspring Valley—a manse he flamboyantly dubbed Ravenscall Plantation.
He was the fast-talking, wise–cracking auctioneer at our fund raising auctions. He wrote, produce,d and directed our remarkably successful “Together Again” cabarets. The image of Jack as a positively elephantine “fairy”—complete with wand, pink tights and a tutu—is indelibly etched on my memory.
Like many vastly talented people, Jack was not always easy to live with. He was, however, never boring. His taste in clothing, for example, was decidedly flamboyant—running a gamut from mildly eccentric to downright bizarre.
It was by no means unusual for him to attend church decked out like King Edward VII in full morning dress (swallow-tailed coat, pinstriped pants, double-breasted gray vest, ascot cravat: the works)—an outfit he occasionally adorned with the star and ribbon of a commendatore of an eminent Papal order.
At the ground breaking for the parish church, he provoked my ire by slyly sneaking into the procession (just behind me and slightly ahead of a bemused Bishop John Gramley) clad in the gorgeous red parliamentary robes of an English nobleman.
Thankfully, he’d resisted the temptation to don the ermine-trimmed coronation robes of a belted earl (oh, he had those too) and to top things off with the coronet that went with the outfit.
In short, not all of Jack’s notions were entirely suitable for application in, or by, Anglican churches. But a downside of his mercurial temperament was that he was by no means invariably inclined to take their rejection with equanimity.
Sooner or later, Jack would stalk majestically off in an enormous huff to seek pastures new.
Somewhere out there another Jack is waiting out to amuse, fascinate, frustrate, irritate, enrich and bless us with his presence. If you are a candidate, why not give us a call. GPH✠
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