Within days of his arrival, the new pastor had begun a census of the families who would share with him the pioneer experience of moving St. Matthew's from a dream to a reality. Reading the letter he sent to them from the perspective of 1983, one gathers a feeling of gentle persuasion, of quiet leadership.

What it says, in essence, is this: "I know this may be troubling to you. I understand that you are being asked to part with the long-standing relationships you had in St. Anne's or in Holy Name. I know that there is no tangible Parish of St. Matthew today. But, let us grasp this opportunity. Let us have faith, optimism, and imagination. Let us go forward with this singular expression of our Christian witness. Let us be apostles together." Fr. McGarty recalls that the first of his new parishioners with whom he met was Lois Abraham and her husband, Louis, who, although not a catholic, was just as supportive as Lois.

The first true parish meetings were held in the Stettin School , not a part of the Wausau Area School District at that time but a rural school, and Newman High School which was itself, a new arrival to the Wausau educational community.

What St. Matthew's needed at the start was a place to celebrate the Mass. One possibility was the Youth Building in Marathon Park . However, there was no way it could be available every Sunday of the year. It was decided to accept the generous offer of Mr. and Mrs. Ed. Bembinster to meet for Mass at their place of business, the Wausau Auto Auction.

There are not many among us who recall the place. The Auto Auction was located to the southwest of where 28th passes under Highway 29. Today the exit ramps from 29 pass through the site and enclose an expanse of grass and a planting of white spruce and Norway pine.

It was typical of family-owned auto businesses even today, a boxlike structure, perhaps sixty feet by thirty feet, redolent with the smells of exhaust, oil, and grease. Although it may have seemed like an unlikely church, there was a certain symbolic appropriateness, the molding of the ancient values of our faith with the realities of our twentieth Century mobility as embodied in the automobile. However it may seem to us now, it was available every Sunday. And as Fr. McGarty recalls, "It was our church for two years. We must have consumed a lot of BTUs keeping the place warm during those winters, and the Bembinsters never accepted a dime to help defray the heating costs."

Marie Dix recalls, "One particularly cold Sunday when the thermometer dipped below zero and Eddie Bembinster was out of town on business. Fr. McGarty, attempting to get more heat out of the system of valves, gauges and pipes that only a mechanical genius such as Eddie could devise, tried to get John Schoofs on a tall ladder to experiment by turning on some valves in an attempt to coax more steam into the heating system. John very gingerly agreed to climb the ladder and make a try at the valves. About halfway up the ladder, he became nervous, looked back down at Fr. McGarty and a group of men below, and in desperation exclaimed above the sound of hissing pipes, "but Father, I've got a wife and three kids!" It created a tremendous laugh among the onlookers.

There were about 180 families in the parish at that time, mostly young. They recall how the Auction was important to their sense of community. Every Saturday afternoon, at the close of business, parishioners would gather to give it a good cleaning in preparation for two Masses which would be celebrated the next day at eight o'clock and ten. Mrs. Bembinster recalls that there were three crews, so the same people did not have responsibility for Sunday preparations week after week.

The very first purchase made by St. Matthew's was two hundred folding chairs. During the week, these were stored in an old shed out in back of the Auto Auction building and in Fr. McGarty's camping trailer. That trailer, incidentally, also served as a place where the pastor kept his vestments - sort of a sacristy on wheels.