SERVANT OF GOD                                                                 
                            MONSIGNOR NELSON H. BAKER
                                   1841-1936
                                 One Lifetime
                          by Boniface Hanley, O.F.M.

     Moonlight can play tricks on a man, especially a young man; and 
most especially on a rookie soldier standing lonely sentinel in a dark
wood. Private Nelson Baker of the 74th Regiment, New York State Militia,
was the rawest of rookies.
     A few hours after he enlisted in his home town, Buffalo, his outfit 
moved out to the Pennsylvania-Maryland border where Federal forces were 
massing to meet the threat of Confederate invasion of the North. For 
weeks Southern armies had been streaming northward through the green 
mountains and valleys of Virginia and Maryland. Robert E. Lee, drawing 
his men together into a great, grey fist, was preparing to smash through
the Union troops confronting him and thus occupy for the Confederacy the
lush farms and industrial centers of Pennsylvania and New York. Within a
few weeks of Baker's arrival at the front, the two armies would fight one
of the Civil War's bloodiest battles and enshrine forever in history the 
name of a quiet Pennsylvania village called Gettysburg.
     But in these last weeks of June as Private Baker stood his post, 
battle lines had not yet been clearly drawn. Northern and Southern 
patrols, as well as lost or straggling units of both armies, often 
stumbled into each other and engaged in sharp, punishing fire-fights. 
During these days and nights of confusion, Company A of the 74th was 
ordered to guard a strategic railroad bridge.
     Private Baker, who had volunteered for night watch, stood alert at
his post in a thick wood near the bridge. A full moon bathed the night 
in a shower of light. Nelson's sensitive ears picked up all the sounds 
of the night: insects humming, frogs croaking, owls hooting, June bugs 
bumbling themselves into trees. The night was full of beauty and full of
danger.
     Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Nelson heard a new sound, 
of someone or something moving through the underbrush. "It could be a 
small animal," the startled soldier thought. Every nerve in his body 
tingled as the sound came closer and closer. It came from the woods 
bordering a clearing close by. "Maybe Johnny Reb is trying to lure me into
the light," he thought. "I wonder how many of them there are?" Keeping a 
lock on his fears, he took up a position behind a tree bordering the 
clearing and peered at the wooded area the sound was coming from. Moon-
light lay over the open space but the woods on the other side were black
and the shadows of the trees deep and dark. The noise got louder. Baker 
placed his rifle in firing position and waited, his eyes riveted on the 
woods. Suddenly the underbrush parted and a Confederate soldier lurched
into the clearing. Silent, Nelson did not move. His heart pounded as he
waited anxiously for others to emerge from the trees. Finally, mustering
a courage he hardly felt, he barked out into the night, "Halt - halt or 
I'll fire." The Confederate stopped and in the light Nelson could see him,
his face contorted in pain, holding a blood-soaked handkerchief against 
his shoulder. "Please help me, please help me," the rebel pleaded softly, 
"Are you alone?" Baker queried. "Yes, I'm all alone. Please... 
Please...."
     Nelson immediately stepped from behind the tree and ran across the 
clearing. By the time he reached the soldier, he had slumped into a heap
on the ground. Nelson knelt beside him and lifted him gently to his feet.
The boy's sharp eyes detected the cavalry insignia on the soldier's 
uniform. Supporting the wounded cavalryman, Nelson guided him through the
woods to a safe place.
     Baker's mission of mercy accomplished, he returned to his post.
     For a veteran of only two days in a combat zone, Private Nelson 
Baker handled his rescue mission extraordinarily well. Perhaps it came 
to him naturally. Whatever the reason, he was to spend the rest of his 
long life repeating in one way or another the very same deed - rescuing 
the wounded, the broken, the lost.
     
THE GATEWAY TO THE WEST
     Nelson Baker was born in Buffalo in February, 1841. At the time the 
city, a major port on the Great Lakes and terminus of the Erie Canal, 
served as the gateway to the riches of America's Midwest. Boasting a 
population of twenty thousand, Buffalo boomed with prosperity and 
immigrants, heading West, poured into it. Some, like Lewis Baker, Nelson's 
father, established businesses there. The grocer endowed his son with an 
acute business sense as well as a fluency in German. Nelson's mother, 
Caroline Donellan, an Irish Catholic, passed on to her son her own deep 
love of the Faith. Nelson was an active and intelligent child, and from 
his early years possessed a spirit of initiative and adventure. The small,
wiry boy, quick in mind and movement, could not resist a prank.
     
NIGHT-TIME PRANK ON BATAVIA STREET
     Young Baker's greatest coup as a youngster had all the elements of 
the Watergate break-in, except for the fact that it was successful. It all
began when his father rented the rooms above the grocery he owned on 
Batavia Street to the local Republican organization. The Republicans,
establishing campaign headquarters there, proudly flew the party flag in
front of the store. Not far down the street, Democrats set up their 
headquarters and likewise raised their party flag. The political rivalry
between Buffalo's Republicans and Democrats which often sparked arguments
and fisticuffs fascinated Nelson.
     One night he awakened his brother Ransom. The Baker family lived
behind the store, below the Republican headquarters. "Ransom, get up,"
he ordered, "get dressed. But don't make any noise." After Nelson led his
half-asleep brother outside, the two boys eased their way along the wall
of the store to Batavia Street (now called Broadway) where the Republican
flag was flying. The night was dark, the moon buried in heavy clouds. 
From time to time, however, moonlight shafted through the clouds and 
illuminated the strange sight of the two boys slowly lowering the flag 
from the top of its pole. The flag lowered, Nelson and Ransom folded it. 
Nelson then told his brother to put the banner under his arm. "Now, 
Ransom," the older boy ordered, "follow me!" The two pranksters, clinging
to the shadows of stores along the way, moved silently down Batavia 
Street. When they arrived at the Democratic headquarters, they lowered 
its flag and folded it. Nelson then attached the Republican flag to the 
rope and silently raised it. That task completed, the two youths slipped
back to Baker's store and there raised 
the Democratic flag in front of Republican headquarters. Mission 
accomplished, they tiptoed back to bed and giggled themselves to sleep.
     As headquarter staffers arrived at their respective battle posts the 
next morning and saw the flags snapping in the fresh Buffalo breeze, they 
were aghast. Two men ran down to Baker's store from the Democratic 
headquarters and met a Republican force sallying forth to do battle. 
Curses flew and fists clenched. A small riot was about to occur when 
Mr. Baker, who did not want his place broken up, came running out of his 
store. "Stop it," he commanded, "you'll all get arrested and the news-
papers will make you look like fools. Some smart joker is cracking his 
ribs at your expense."
     No one knows if Papa Baker knew who the smart jokers were, for 
somehow Ransom and Nelson, unnoticed in the crowd, kept straight faces. 
When the Republicans and Democrats reclaimed and rehoisted their 
respective flags, peace returned, at least temporarily, to Batavia Street. 
The two culprits were never discovered.
     
NELSON COMES MARCHING HOME
     When the 74th Regiment had completed its mission on the Pennsylvania 
front, it entrained for the North to assist in quelling the bloody draft 
riots rocking New York City. After 	successfully completing that grim 
mission, the militia unit returned July 21 to Buffalo where its troops 
were mustered out of service.
     Shortly after Nelson's return, Joseph Meyer, a close friend, 
suggested that the two establish a business partnership. Nelson, 
responsive but not enthusiastic, explained to the surprised Meyer that 
he was considering becoming a priest. The desire, he admitted, had not 
taken firm resolution in his mind. Nelson finally accepted Meyer's 
proposal and the two began what eventually became a very successful feed 
and grain enterprise.
     Young Nelson was originally attracted to the priesthood through his 
work with the St. Vincent de Paul Society in Buffalo. One of his favorite 
Vincentian duties involved assisting Father Hines, director of St. 
Joseph's Boys Home in West Seneca. The Diocese of Buffalo had established
and maintained the home to accommodate orphans and young boys who had 
fallen afoul of the law. Father Hines admired Baker very much and 
suggested to him one day that he take concrete steps to study for the 
priesthood. "But how will I know God is calling me there?" he asked 
Father Hines. "I can't answer that question, Nelson; I can advise you of
one sign, at least, that God is calling you. Apply to the bishop. If he 
is willing to accept you as a candidate, you can be fairly sure that at 
least one component of yourcalling to the priesthood will be accurate."
     Nelson was twenty-six years of age. He had to reach some decision 
regarding his life. Accepting Father Hines' advice, he notified Meyer 
that he would spend one more year in business and would then enter the 
seminary. To prepare for this step, he began night studies. The long 
yearof study and the business activity took its toll, however, and by 
the spring of 1869 his health began to fail. To rest his body and clear
his mind, he took a steamer trip along the shores of the Great Lakes. 
It was during that voyage in the summer of 1869 that he reached a firm 
decision to study for the priesthood. He told his mother about it on his
return to Buffalo. She was delighted. "I always prayed that one of my 
sons would become a priest," she exclaimed. His father was not so sure.
"Nelson, you have a good business; you have money in the bank. You 
should be thinking about getting married and setting up your own home."  
     Mr. Baker's words were ironic and prophetic: ironic in that 
Nelson never did marry; prophetic in that he did eventually establish 
his home. And what a home it was!
     Joseph Meyer took the decision hard,  "Nelson, we built a good 
business together and I will be lost without you." "No, Joe," Nelson 
replied, "my brother Ransom can take my place as your partner."  "Nobody 
can ever take your place as my partner,"  the disappointed Meyer 
responded.
     
THE SEMINARY
     On September 2, 1869, Nelson entered Our Lady of the Angels 
Seminary at Suspension Bridge, Niagara Falls. Although older than most
students, he participated in every aspect of the seminary life - in 
theatrical productions, athletics, debates. He possessed a fine singing
voice and a flair for poetry. From the very outset of his seminary 
career, he labored to develop his spiritual life. He practiced 
discipline, mortification, fasting and prayer. He denied himself little
pleasures of the table, like pie, custard and puddings.
     Outwardly, Nelson was warm and witty; few people realized the 
depth of his asceticism.
     
ILLNESS
     Two years after entering the seminary, Nelson suffered a severe 
attack of erysipelas, a particularly painful disease. During the illness 
he manifested signs of genuine holiness. "For several weeks we have had 
two boys at the point of death," a fellow seminarian wrote home. "One 
has been half devoured with erysipelas; but he seems to be out of danger
now. He is one of the two I mentioned... as being real saints; and he is
lookedupon as such by the whole house."
     Nelson was to feel the effects of erysipelas for several months.
It wasn't until Easter, 1872, that he was able to be about and to feel 
himself.
     
ROMAN PILGRIMAGE
     In 1874 the first national American pilgrimage to Rome was organized
under the leadership of Bishop Joseph Dwenger, C.PP.S., of Fort Wayne, 
Indiana. Nelson read about the proposed tour in the newspapers and was 
given permission to make the trip as a representative of the seminary.
For him, the journey would be a pilgrimage of thanksgiving for his 
vocation and for the recovery of his health. He also regarded the 
pilgrimage as a means of demonstrating his loyalty to Pope Pius IX who 
had become the first "Prisoner of the Vatican" following the seizure of 
the Papal States by armed forces of the Kingdom of Italy.
     In mid-May, one hundred and eight pilgrims from various parts of
the United States gathered in New York City to prepare to board the 
French steamship Pereire. At ceremonies in St. Patrick's Cathedral, 
Archbishop John McCloskey offered Mass for the pilgrims and blessed a 
special banner they would carry to Rome. Following the Mass, the 
pilgrims boarded the Pereire and departed on the Atlantic leg of their 
journey. On shipboard the Bishop said Mass each day and led the 
wayfarers in special novenas, the Rosary, meditation and night prayers.
It was Bishop Dwenger who first told Nelson about the Shrine of Our Lady
of Victory in Paris. "My brother was suffering from an illness that 
seemed incurable," he told the seminarian. "I prayed to the Blessed 
Mother under the title of Our Lady of Victory, and I feel my brother 
was cured through her intercession."
     The pilgrims disembarked at Le Havre, France, in late May and 
proceeded to Paris. Cardinal-Archbishop Guibert, greeted them and 
celebrated Mass for them in his private chapel. During the group's stay
in Paris, Bishop Dwenger celebrated Mass at the Shrine of Our Lady of
Victory. Nelson, of course, assisted. No one knows what went on in the
heart of the seminarian during that Mass, but a lifelong devotion to the
Blessed Mother under her title, Our Lady of Victory, was begun. The
relationship was to influence his whole life. 
     The pilgrims left Paris for Lourdes and then went on to Rome.
     Pius IX's health had been failing for some time. He was living,
Vatican observers judged, on raw courage. The Pope nevertheless granted
the Americans a special audience and celebrated Mass for them. For 
Nelson it was an immerse privilege to meet the holy Father and to 
receive Communion from his hands. After several days in the Eternal 
City, Nelson began the journey home. On his way he passed through Paris
and once again visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Victory. While there he
promised Mary he would take advantage of every opportunity to further 
devotion to her under that special title.
     
THE PRIEST
     Nelson Baker was ordained to the priesthood at the age of thirty-
four by Bishop Stephen Ryan, C.M. of Buffalo on the feast of St. Joseph 
in 1876. His mother and father attended the ordination and his first 
Mass; both were very proud of him.
     Soon after these celebrations, Bishop Ryan called Father Baker to
the Chancery and posted him as assistant to Father Hines, the pastor of
St. Patrick's Parish at Limestone, West Seneca. As pastor of St. 
Patrick's, Father Hines was responsible for St. Joseph's Orphanage and 
St. John's Protectory. "You have a good business background," the Bishop
told Nelson." I'm sure you'll be very helpful to Father Hines."  It was
Father Hines, the reader will remember, who had encouraged Nelson a 
decade earlier to study for the priesthood.
     Father Hines was delighted with his new assistant; he desperately 
needed support. St. John's and St. Joseph's were staggering under 
tremendous debt with a combined annual deficit of twenty-seven thousand
dollars, a large sum in those years. "We don't have two hundred dollars
in cash in the bank," Father Hines glumly advised his new assistant.
     The situation was so bad that even Nelson's business sense availed 
little. The Limestone institutions sank deeper and deeper into debt.
After five years of struggle, Father Baker announced that the homes were
running a fifty-six-thousand dollar annual deficit and that he had had 
enough. He sought a transfer. "St. Joseph's and St. John's are doomed,"
he advised Bishop Ryan, "and I cannot continue."  The Bishop agreed to 
his request for a change and sent him to St. Mary's Parish in Corning,
where he soon won a fine reputation as an effective parish priest. But 
the Lord had not destined him for that apostolate.
     Exactly one year after arriving in Corning, he was told by Bishop
Ryan: " I want you to go back to Limestone Hill and take Father Hines'
place. He needs work that is less strenuous."  "I don't feel up to the
job, Bishop," Nelson replied; "I really don't want to do it."  "Yes, 
Father Baker, let's both sleep on it," the Bishop responded. "We'll 
both offer Mass tomorrow morning for God's guidance on the matter."
     The following morning, Bishop Ryan summoned him to his office. 
"How do you feel about limestone Hill now?" he asked. "I feel no 
different than I did yesterday," said the Bishop. And then came the 
thrust: "Nelson, go out to Limestone Hill and do that best you can. 
I will pray that God will be with you."
     It was in complete obedience to his Bishop's will  and with no 
personal preference that Father Baker began the work that was to do so 
much good for God and souls.
     
PASTOR IN DEBT
     The situation at Limestone Hill had worsened during Father
Baker's year in Corning. Only hours after his arrival, a flock of angry
creditors swooped down on the new director of the debt-ridden 
institutions. "We want our money," they demanded, "now."
     One of the businessmen recalled his previous dealings with Nelson
Baker. "I used to do business with you, Father, when you were in 
partnership with Joe Meyer. Your word is good enough for me. You were 
an honest man then and I have every reason to believe you are honest 
now." The half-dozen other claimants did not share these sentiments; 
they insisted that Father Baker pay the bills immediately.
     "All right gentlemen; bring your accounts to me in the morning and
I will pay them in full. But I would advise you not to come here seeking
any more business from these institutions."  The following morning 
Father Baker met with the creditors after emptying his personal savings
account to pay many of the bills. And so Nelson Baker, at the beginning
of his career at Limestone Hill, added to his way of life the practice 
of complete poverty.
     
OUR LADY HELPS
     Now that he was without personal money, Father Baker had to turn 
elsewhere for the funding of St. Joseph's and St. John's. He prayed to 
Our Lady of Victory for help, fully confident that she would assist him.
     One night as he knelt in prayer at St. Patrick's an idea hit him.
"Why not form an Association of Our Lady of Victory?" he asked himself. 
He decided to appeal in Our Lady's name and under that special title for
money to run the orphanage and protectorate. He put his idea to work by
writing to postmasters all over the United States. He requested from 
them the names of a few Catholic women in their cities or towns who 
might assist his work for dependent and helpless boys. Within a short 
time many postmasters replied. Armed with this information, Father Baker
then wrote these Catholic ladies. "Can you join the Association of Our 
Lady of Victory?" he inquired. "The cost is only twenty-five cents a 
year." He also asked the women to encourage their friends to join with
them in supporting this work. "The money will be used for poor children,"
he promised. In his early days, Father Baker began a newsletter called 
"The Appeal for Homeless and Destitute Children."  The publication kept
his ever-increasing number of benefactors informed of the good their 
oftentimes humble offerings were making possible.
     Father Baker's success rested on the fact that he offered a 
Christian response to a then serious problem in the United States, the 
needs of orphans and delinquent children. Life expectancy was much
shorter in those days and public welfare health service was not highly
developed in the cities. Many a home was left without one or even both
parents. Often the children were victimized. Many were sent to 
institutions which, at least in the case of Catholic children, were 
harmful to their faith. Sometimes the little ones were virtually 
kidnapped and sent to work on farms. Father Baker wrote in his 
newsletter: "There are societies that have been engaged for years in
entrapping little Irish children and giving them into homes of non-
Catholic farmers where they are lost forever to the Faith."  Some 
children, escaping both fates, lived in the streets where they were 
exploited and abused.
     As soon as Father Baker acquired enough funds through his mailings,
he constructed an addition to St. John's Protectory. It was his first
building project.
     Within the new addition he built a beautiful chapel in which he
placed a statue of Our Lady of Victory, imported from France. The chapel
and an enlarged protectory were dedicated on June 26, 1889.
     
ENERGY CRISES
     Every day Father Baker used to walk slowly back and forth across an
empty lot close to St. John's Protectory, reading his Breviary. 
Eventually he wore a path through the lot. People called it Father 
Baker's "Prayer Path."
     No one knew it, but he was combining prayer and exploration. He had 
been reading in the newspapers of recent discoveries of natural gas
deposits in nearby Canada and suspected that similar underground pockets
were beneath the buildings of the protectory. It did not sway him one bit
that no one else in the area believed it. The only way he could settle
the matter was to drill. He had, of course, no money for that expensive
process. As he patrolled his prayer path daily, he was beseeching Our 
Lady of Victory for help.
     Father Baker decided to visit the Bishop who, he heard, had 
recently received a generous gift of five thousand dollars. The Bishop
gladly granted him an interview. After light, informal conversational 
sparring, Nelson threw his hook. "I'm here for money," he said. "Money 
for what?" the Bishop countered. "Money to drill a gas well."
     The Bishop had heard many odd things about Father Baker and up 
until this point never doubted his sanity. "You are serious?" he asked.
"Bishop, I firmly believe Our Lady of Victory has given me a sign that
there is natural gas under our institutions at Limestone Hill."
     He remarked that he had heard about the most generous five thousand
dollar gift the Bishop had just received. "I think the money is destined
for our gas well," he suggested. "I'll give you five hundred dollars," 
the Bishop said. "Five hundred dollars is not enough to drill. I'll need
at least two thousand."  All the Bishop could see was two thousand 
dollars disappearing down a hole in Limestone. He wondered what his 
consultors would think of that. Setting his fears aside, however, he 
yielded and gave Father Baker the amount he had asked for.
     Shortly afterwards, a drilling crew arrived from the Pennsylvania 
gas fields. After Father Baker explained why he had sent for the men, 
they suspected that hard work and worry had frazzled his brain. "Where is
this supposed gas field?" the crew foreman asked. "I'll show you this 
afternoon at four o'clock," Father Baker responded.
     At exactly 4 p.m. the doors of St. Patrick's flew open and a 
religious procession emerged. Scores of altar boys clad in cassocks and 
surplices, the Sisters of St. Joseph, the Brothers of the Holy Infancy,
all in full habit, walked solemnly in procession behind the cross. At 
the end of the group, leading the Rosary, was Father Baker. The 
procession moved slowly along the prayer path; finishing the Rosary, the
assembly sang joyous hymns in honor of Our Lady. Reaching the end of the
path, the procession halted and Father Baker sprinkled the ground with 
holy water. Then, taking a small statue of Our Lady of Victory from his
pocket, he buried it about a foot into the ground. The drilling crew 
observed all this with a sense of wonderment. After covering the statue,
Father Baker turned and walked over to the foreman. "You see where I put
that statue?" he asked. "Yes, Father," the foreman replied. "Well, that 
is where you put down your drill, as close to that statue as you can." 
And, he added, "Don't touch the statue with the drill."
     Having delivered all his orders, Father Baker re-formed the 
procession and the group of altar boys, nuns and brothers returned to 
the church along the prayer path, singing hymns and reciting the Rosary.
     
PILLAR OF FIRE
     The Limestone drilling went on for months. Just as the Bishop 
feared, his two thousand dollars disappeared down the hole. Unperturbed,
Father Baker asked him for a few thousand dollars more. The Bishop gave
it to him. At this point, everyone's actions seemed incomprehensible.
     Days passed into weeks and months as the drilling continued. Seven 
hundred, eight hundred, nine hundred feet. Nothing. People began to refer
to the bizarre scene at the end of the prayer path as "Father Baker's 
Folly."  During the month of August a novena was made in honor of the 
Assumption of Our Lady. For nine days before the feast prayers were 
hurled heavenward to Our Lady of Victory. On the 15th of August all 
Father Baker's friends held their breath. This was, they felt, their 
last chance. But the feast came and went. Nothing. After the feast 
Father Baker started another novena. Again the faithful prayed, and 
again nothing happened. For several more days the drill bit even deeper 
into the earth.
     On the evening of August 21, 1891, as Father Baker was celebrating
Benediction in St. Patrick's Church, a young man came running into the 
sanctuary. "Father," he announced softly, "we think we've struck gas. 
They want you at the well."  Father nodded and continued his prayers. 
He added a few prayers of thanksgiving before he went to the drilling 
site. Gas had been struck at one thousand, one hundred and thirty-seven
feet.
     As Father Baker arrived, gas was shooting up out of the well. 
Everyone was so excited that they had forgotten to extinguish the flames
of a forge near the well head which the crew used to sharpen drills. Gas
met flame. A violent explosion knocked everyone down. Flames shot eighty
feet into the air and blazed angrily across the eight-foot mouth of the 
well. A pillar of fire, visible all over Buffalo, burned for hours until
the drillers, shooting a heavy stream of water across the hole, quenched
the deadly combustion. Then they covered the hole with heavy timber. The
explosion injured five people, seriously but not fatally.
     Father Baker called the gas deposit the "Victoria Well," in honor of
Our Lady of Victory. He was happy to advise the Bishop that his five
thousand dollars had not been spent in vain. The well provided gas for
several years for the institutions at Our Lady of Victory. Father Baker
shared his good fortune with houses in the immediate vicinity, offering
them the gas at extremely low cost. When the Victoria Well was exhausted,
he drilled again and tapped another deposit. To this day gas from the 
wells continues to provide cooking fuel for the several institutions that
comprise Our Lady of Victory.
     
THE TURN OF THE CENTURY
     In 1901 Father Baker, at the age of 60, celebrated his silver jubilee
as a priest. One might think his great work at St. Joseph's and St. John's
Protectory should have earned him a quiet, uneventful passage to his older
age. This was not to be.
     In the fruitful years in which he had served St. John's and St. 
Joseph's, the population of both homes increased by several hundred. To 
assist young men who had finished their trade schooling at St. Joseph's 
and St. John's, Father Baker established the Working Boys Home of the 
Sacred Heart in Buffalo. Here he housed eighty young men who were employed
in Buffalo's industries. He replaced the old St. John's Protectory with a
brand new building, and in 1897 added a wing to that new structure. The 
protectory became a five-story building which provided housing and 
schooling for three hundred and eighty-five boys. The building had a 
total of one hundred and ninety rooms for living quarters and thirty 
rooms for the trade schools. Thus, as he celebrated his silver jubilee,
Father Baker was caring for at least fifteen hundred boys who had come to
him from almost every state in the Union, Canada, and even from overseas 
- Ireland, England and France. The boys arrived oftentimes with simply a
tag attached to their clothing saying, "To Father Baker, Victoria, West
Seneca, New York." Some little ones were only six years old. None of them
ever got lost.
     The home was often so over-crowded that its corridors had to serve as
emergency dormitories. At such times it was not unusual for Father Baker
to turn over his own rooms to people in need of housing. His abstemious
eating habits were matched by his little need for sleep.
     His prodigious activity continued. He added new trade schools, built
an orphan home for abandoned and neglected babies, and established a large
hospital and nursing home. His favorites continued to be the orphan boys.
He understood them well and treated them with respect and kindness. No 
charity engineer was he. He knew each of his flock by name; his care and
concern extended to the smallest detail. At Christmastime, for instance,he
would have all the desks removed from the classrooms and would celebrate
a special party in each one of them. The Sisters of St. Joseph who worked
so hard beside him in this apostolate would help him select presents for
each boy. The gifts were not large and certainly not expensive, but 
everyone was remembered individually.
     During the summer months Father Baker set up camp for the boys in 
pleasant surroundings. The youngsters lived in tents and enjoyed outdoor 
life. Close to his homes he established farms with cows and chickens, 
geese and ducks. The young men carefully tended their gardens and provided
vegetables for the tables at Our Lady of Victory homes.
     The Sisters of St. Joseph and the Brothers of the Holy Infancy 
offered the youngsters an excellent education. Many of Father Baker's 
boys became doctors, lawyers, priests, congressmen, corporate officers, 
politicians and governors. In later years they looked back with pride 
and affection on their years at Our Lady of Victory. Father Baker quietly
paved the way for many of them through college and professional schools.
     Father Baker retained his zest for living and quiet spirit of joy 
all through the years. He delighted in taking the boys out on picnics or
on swims in the summer months. He would often take bands of his orphans 
for long walks through the countryside around Buffalo, stopping at farm 
houses to buy apples and honey and whatever other treats were available 
for his young charges. He knew boys for what they were. When windows in 
the institution would be broken by a flying baseball, Father Baker would 
accept this philosophically. "Where there are boys and windows," he would
say, "you have two items of expense you can't get away from - bread and 
glass."
     
THE POSTMAN RINGS TWICE
     Postal clerks who handled the large volume of cash passing through 
the mails to Our Lady of Victory would yield from time to time to 
temptation and steal the donations. During the midst of the Great 
Depression Father Baker heard of one young clerk who got caught tampering
with the mails. Post Office authorities fired him. Father Baker sent for 
him. The clerk was amazed when Father Baker, aware that the man had a 
family, offered him a job in one of the Victory institutions.
     In 1906, five years after his silver jubilee, Father Baker announced
plans to build a home for infants. Once more he was responding to a very
real need. Over the years, people very often left abandoned infants on 
the doorsteps of Our Lady of Victory. This new facility would cost more
than one hundred thousand dollars. He raised a great part of this money
through one simple fund-raising idea which was another stroke of his 
genius. "Why not ask people,"  he thought, "to donate a crib for the 
unwanted children."  He couched his appeal tenderly. "Some of our 
friends express their wish," he wrote, "to furnish a little crib, 
mattress, pillow and bedding, by contributing the sum of twenty-five 
dollars. They will be remembered in the Masses offered at the home as 
well as in the pious prayers of the Sisters and children, besides having
their names engraven upon a brass tablet placed upon the wall which will
keep them in constant remembrance, and Almighty God will not fail to
abundantly bless them for he has promised that 'whatsoever you do for 
the least of these, my little ones, you do it for me.'"
     The Infants' Home, completed in 1908, was immediately filled. The 
new institution offered both infants and unwed expectant mothers a place
of refuge. The home provided excellent pre-natal care as well as adoption
services. Each evening before he retired to his rooms, Father Baker would
visit the Infants' Home and give everyone his blessing.
     One of the features of the home was a small bassinet, complete with 
pillow and blankets, that stood in the hallway just inside the unlocked 
outside door. Anyone could quietly open the door to the home in the 
middle of the night and leave a baby in the bassinet. There were no 
questions asked, no forms to be filled out, no one to probe into the 
infant's background. For a number of years the bassinet remained, 
quietly receiving abandoned infants.
     By 1914, Father Baker had to enlarge the Infants' Home. Once more 
he wrote: "We had to build more because the Infants' Home is filled to
utmost capacity and, unless we add more rooms, we must stop taking babies
and small children. And this we do not wish to do."  The new Infants' 
Home and Maternity Hospital was to cost nearly two hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars.
     He had no sooner finished the Infants' Home when, in 1916, a 
disastrous fire destroyed St. Joseph's Home. Unflappable Father Baker 
began rebuilding immediately. He was convinced that he was only an 
instrument of Our Lady of Victory. He had full trust that Mary would 
provide the huge amount of money needed to continue what he considered 
was her work.
     In 1920, Father Baker converted the Maternity Hospital into a 
general hospital. The Sisters of St. Joseph staffed what he called Our 
Lady of Victory Hospital.
     
THE DREAM
     By 1921 Father Baker felt he could honor the Blessed Mother in a 
fitting manner. He began to organize the building of a great basilica in
honor of Mary under the title, Our Lady of Victory. "We haven't got a 
nickel to start," he announced, "and we won't have a nickel left to pay 
on it when it is finished."
     Thousands of people throughout the United States sent in 
contributions. Again his promotional genius hit upon an idea that 
immediately appealed. "Send ten dollars for a block of white marble for 
the basilica," he urged his readers. The basilica required four years to
build. At Christmastime, 1925, Father Baker celebrated the first Mass 
there. In May, 1926, the shrine was dedicated. L'Osservatore Romano 
described the Basilica of Our Lady of Victory in Lackawanna as "one of 
the most superb shrines the Catholic Church possesses in the United 
States."
     Father Baker was now in his late eighties. As the Great Depression
struck America, he was like a man renewed with youth. He fed the hungry,
clothed the poor, gave shelter to the homeless. He not only did what he
could to relieve suffering but also continued to train young men in his
schools where they learned tailoring, barbering, carpenter work, glazing,
laundering, plumbing, electrical work, shoemaking, photography, sign-
painting, painting and printing. He turned his attention particularly to
Buffalo's black population which had suffered so much in the Depression.
He worked with such energy and zeal among them that many, moved by his 
faith, embraced the Catholic religion.
     By 1936, when Father Nelson Baker had turned ninety-five, all the 
hard work and sleepless hours caught up with him. He fell seriously ill.
Bishop William Turner of Buffalo judged the old priest's death was so 
near that he sat down and wrote a funeral oration. Life, however, being
what it is, and death being what it is, the Bishop never delivered the 
eulogy. His Excellency died on July 10, 1936, a little more than two 
weeks before Father Baker.
     Near the end of the month, Father Baker began to visibly fail. In 
the early morning hours of July 29, he lapsed into a coma. Sister Death
claimed him at 9:20 a.m. Newspapers estimated that between three hundred
thousand and five hundred thousand people attended his wake and funeral. 


Shortly after Father Baker's death, the Buffalo Times wrote:
     "To have known Father Baker was to marvel at his energy and at the 
works that flowed from it. . . . To the hungry during his ministry he 
fed 50 million meals. During the depression at one time he was serving 
more than a million meals a year. He gave away a million loaves of bread.
He clothed the naked to the number of a half million. He gave medical 
care to 250,000 and supplied medicines to 200,000 more. Three hundred 
thousand men, women, and children received some sort of education or 
training at his hands. A hundred thousand boys were trained for trades. 
Six hundred unmarried mothers in their distress knocked at his door and 
did not knock in vain. More than 6,000 destitute and abandoned babies 
were placed in foster homes. . . . .Men will give thanks that he lived 
and bless his memory."


                       FATHER BAKER - SERVANT OF GOD