Henry E. Reist
Engine Department

Henry E. Reist, "The Popcorn Man," a lifelong farmer in Mount Joy, PA, and an engine room volunteer since 2001 on the Liberty ship SS JOHN W. BROWN, died November 24, 2008, after suffering for several years from a degenerative brain disease. He was 80.

Henry's interest in Liberty ships was born when he was a teenaged cattleman on another rolling Liberty ship after World War II. His curiosity was revived 55 years later by the BROWN.

His survivors include Hazel, his wife of 57 years; three sons: William, a Church of God pastor; David, a third generation seedsman, and Timothy, a tool and die maker; 13 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. A fourth son, Sam, died of kidney cancer.

Shipmates will remember the joyful picnic hosted by Henry and Hazel on their farm.

A memorial service for Henry Reist was scheduled for November 29, 2008, at the Church of God in Mount Joy. The Reists were long active in the Church, similar to the Mennonites. Henry was a two-time board chairman of the church's retirement home in Carlisle, PA.

His church has written about Henry in the home's Senior Life News:

"In a parable, Jesus spoke about the need for humans to serve as fertile grounds if seeds of faith and love are to bear fruit. Henry Reist is well versed on what it takes to produce a crop -- both the edible type and a spiritual harvest."

The family owns The Reist Popcorn Company in Mount Joy. Henry managed the firm for years and then turned it over to his son David, now the president. The firm was founded in 1925 by Henry's father, and supplies popcorn to the snack food industry. The corn for the popcorn is grown under contract by farmers in Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Maryland. The Reist firm cleans and processes it and sells it in bulk to retailers who pop and package it.

Henry was born on August 30, 1928, on the farm, which has been in the family since 1828 and in recent years has been rented to neighbors who grow corn, barley and soybeans. He came to the BROWN in 2001 after being a cattleman doing his Christian duty on a Liberty ship to Europe 57 years earlier. Here is his story told in an interview in 2003.

"I was born and raised a Mennonite in Mount Joy. I've lived there on a farm all my life. We have 115 acres. We're family oriented and so blessed.

"I've been farming all my life. My father's family came here in the 1700s from Switzerland. My dad, Alvin J. Reist, started a family seed business in 1925 and ran it with my mother, Mary Eberly. I took over the business. We were always familiar with horses and cattle.

"In late 1946, we heard that they were taking animals, mostly horses, but some cattle and other animals, to countries hardest hit by the war. They needed people to take care of the horses on the transport ships. Cattlemen, they were called. I was 18. Two friends and I from Mount Joy got the papers we needed in Baltimore and went to Newport News, VA. The ships were loading horses there. We joined a fourth fellow from Mount Joy. So we were the Mount Joy horse team.

"We signed on to a Liberty ship, the SS DUDLEY H. THOMAS."

[Some Liberties were named for American seamen killed in the war. Thomas (1904-1942) was a merchant seaman who died when the SS AZALEA CITY was torpedoed by U-432, skippered by Heinz Otto Schultze, 125 miles off Ocean City, MD, in 1942 while en route from Bahia Blanca to Philadelphia. Schultze was himself killed later in the war. Source: U-Boats Destroyed, Paul J. Kemp, Naval Institute Press.]

"They put 803 horses aboard, everywhere on the ship. I wanted to see the whole ship but we couldn't go to the engine room or the bridge. We were 28 cattlemen, including two night watchmen, two foremen, two veterinarians and one supervisor. We fed and watered and cared for the horses. We tried to get them up if they fell. Horses have to stand. We lost 20 horses en route. They couldn't take the strain of being at sea with the ship pitching and rolling.

"Our first stop was Algiers. Unscheduled. We had storms coming over and had a slow passage. Sometimes we made only 100 miles in 24 hours. We went about four knots. They needed food for the men and hay for the animals. We got that in Algiers. We saw the war damage there. Then we sailed on to our destination, Pireaus, Greece. The draft horses were gifts of the Brethren, out of New Windsor, MD. We were a small part of a larger humanitarian effort that went on for a while. This developed into what is now known as the Heifer Project out of Little Rock, Arkansas.

"We had stronger storms coming back home empty. I slept aft and the propeller was out of the water half the time. Noisy. They tried to control it with the butterfly valve but we got the full effect of the vibrations. The ship was a piece of cork. The cattlemen had nothing to do. I don't know the word "bored." So I served food in the mess. The captain liked me and gave me a recommendation as a seaman if I wanted to work for a shipping company.

"I viewed the time as a good experience and adventure. I saw the ravages of war. I tasted the sea life. I was on an important kind of ship, a Liberty ship. Back then we heard little news of the outside world on a ship like that even after the war was over. I got a lot out of the trip but the two months at sea didn't make me a seaman. I was a farmer.

"We reached New York City on December 31, 1946, on a cold, cold, cold day and I went back to the farm, the cattle and the chickens. The folks were happy to see me. I was back ashore but I was very happy at having done a humanitarian deed.

"Years passed. In 2000, the cattlemen on the THOMAS and other ships had a reunion in Toledo. They wanted to visit the BROWN in drydock [which was] there to get new rivets on its 2000 Great Lakes trip. Hazel and I went. I had never heard of the BROWN being in Baltimore since 1988. There were 35 of us and our spouses from all over, all professions. I was the only one still alive from the Mount Joy Four. I had kept in touch with one man from Abilene, Kansas.

"The first crewman I met on the Brown was Barry Malpass, a colorful picture. He was in shorts, blotches of paint all over. He welcomed us, very friendly fellow. I had to see one thing right away -- the engine room that was off-limits to us in 1946. I helped one fellow, a doctor, down the steep ladders. I was fascinated. I wanted to come back.

"The ship's chaplain, Rev. Ra Reno, had a service in the chapel that Sunday in Toledo. Carlos Ralon came from the engine room to play the organ. We cattlemen arrived in coats and ties. The BROWN crew came in their work clothes. All of this was very meaningful for me. I got some literature.

"One Saturday the next year I told Hazel I was going down to see the BROWN in Baltimore again. It's about 75 miles. When I got to Baltimore, no one I asked knew where the ship was. Then someone at Fort McHenry pointed to the BROWN across the harbor. I met John Jerbi who suggested I sign in. “What do you want to do?” he asked. I said, "engine room." I've been working here ever since. There's so much talent in the engine room. I'm uplifted by the camaraderie."