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T’S only an overnight ride. It 
isn’t necessary to put much in 
the bag. A clean pair or two of 

socks. Two shirts. A razor and a 
tube of shaving cream. A comb 
anda brush. A nail file. A picture 
of the woman who owns your life. 
A bathrobe. And, oh yes, a couple 
of green ties to go with the socks 
and the shirt. 

Then maybe a slim book or two. 

And the wooden statue of St. 
Therese, of course. Why are there 

no wooden statues of Blessed 
A bunch of handkerchiefs. 

They'll fit into one of those empty 
spaces, and you can put the picture 
between their protecting folds. 

Is there anything else you might 
need? Letter paper and an en- 
velope or two or three. A small 
scissors for the trimming of your 
mustache—there may not be a 
good barbershop in the town. A 
change of underwear. 

No matter how much you put 
into the bag, however, it seems 
there is always something you for- 

Standing there, at the last min- 
ute, wondering if you have re- 
membered everything you get a 
sort of silly idea. Suppose you were 
packing your bag to go to the next 
world, the life after death—what 
would you put into it? What 
would you need most? 

RECORD of daily Mass and 
Communion, of course. A list 
of prayers you’ve said—yet 
what a pitiful list it seems. Some 
of the prayers are illegible, blurred, 
crossed out, splotched with an inky 

(Continued on page 8) 


A| N\ 


2: Nat 2 ° . 
Vol. 4, No. 6, Nov., 1944 Without Interracial Justice ih Social Justice Will Fail 

New York, N. Y., 5 Cents 

Bl. Martin de Porres 


F his book on the Holy Ghost, 
says that there is going on in 

the world a revival in interest in 
the lives of the saints, but that the 
modern reader is seeking from 
these works a way of life, rather 
than an exposition of the marvel- 
ous. The saints alone can show us 


how to live. They can give us a 
philosophy of hope. 

In his work of spreading devo- 
tion to Bl. Martin de Porres, the 
Dominican, Father Norbert 
Georges, never fails to stress the 
importance of reading the life of 
the blessed, because in this way 
we learn how to come closer to 
God. Eddie Doherty, thinking in 


headlines, puts the philosophy of 
devotion to Bl. Martin this way: “It 
puts God behind the eight ball.” 

Expanding that headline, we 
have the sound theological prin- 
ciple that this devotion begets faith 
and confidence, and miraculous ef- 
fects find their cause in faith. 
“Great is thy faith,” says Our 
Saviour in pleased approval as He 
works a miracle, and that refrain is 
so familiar in the accounts of the 
gospel that we are forced to con- 
clude that not holiness of life but 
simple faith is the touchstone to the 
miraculous. The saints show us the 
way to the kind of faith that moves 
mountains. Bl. Martin had the 
faith of a child in a loving Father 
who refuses nothing. 

ARTIN had faith in abund- 
M ance, and modesty, humility, 

and charity, too. Born De- 
cember 9, 1579, in Lima, his child- 
hood was spent in dire poverty; yet, 
early in life, he gave evidence of 
his future sanctity. His father was 
a Spanish conqueror, Don Juan de 
Porres, his mother a Negro, and 
their union, a free love affair, was 
unblessed by the church. The 
father left the family during the 
early years of Martin to shift for 
itself. The boy worked as an ap- 
prentice to a surgeon and at fifteen 
received the habit of a Dominican 
Tertiary. His were the most menial 
tasks in the monastery. 

It soon became apparent that the 
young Negro was one of God’s fa- 
vorites. His miracles would fill 
many books: Father Louis de Gua- 
dalupe cured on his deathbed; 
Father Peter Montesdosca avoids 
a leg amputation; a wild bull 
threatening crowds is pacified; a 
novice, Francis Varesco, is instant- 
ly cured; the locked door of the cell 

(Continued on page 8) 

Vol. 4 GSO 120 November, 1944 No. 6 NE morning, an orderly, whom I had helped to 
nurse through a bout of typhoid fever, came 

HARLEM FRIENDSHIP HOUSE NEWS into my room with my cape over his arm. “Nurse,” 

7 BS he said, “here is your cape, here is the window; see 

. sp aniccnmediigemal Bey ete Se that copse at the edge of the village; I have hidden 
eee BPD. TRUCE. cscgecvcciccscccess aa stews Editor there a horse for you. Run and get it! The Hospital 
eaten sibis DOMRaTT Council is almost on my heels, coming to arrest you 

HARLEM FRIENDSHIP HOUSE NEWS is owned, operated and pub- 

lished monthly September through June and bi-monthly, July-Augus 

by Friendship House at 34 West 135th Street, New York 30, N. Y. 

Entered as second class matter December 13, 1943, at the Post Office 

at New York, N. Y., under the Act of March 3, 1879. Subscription 
Price 50c Year. Sinezie copies 5c. 

God Wrote in the Sand of Time 

ES, today I know what it was all about... .His- 

tory, men will call it a Revolution, and that 

it was, too...a terrible, bloody, tragic revolution in 

distant Russia, when men went mad, and shaking 

their clenched fist against heaven proclaimed that 
there was no God. 

But to me, today, it is all so clear. ...Christ stooped 
to my utter smallness and unworthiness, and wrote 
for me, on the sands of time, the ABC’s of spiritual 
life, knowing full well that I never could go beyond 
them. ..and that the E’s and D’s were not for the like 
of me. 

What if the letters were written amidst the blood 
and thunder of guns, of nations gone mad? Friends, 
do not pity me...for God gave me, sinner that I am, 
His greatest gift—pain, suffering, tears, blood and 
sacrifice. ..the Cross. 

It was all so long ago, yet it is all so vivid before 
me, just as if it had happened yesterday. I was so 
young then, and full of patriotic zeal. I got myself 
enlisted as a Red Cross Nurse. Nothing glamorous 
in that, scrubbing floors, doing all sorts of odd, 
menial jobs...but there was a shortage of nurses in 
Russia in the First World War. And that is how I 
found myself in the Front Lines....To youth, life 
and war is all an adventure, and two years passed 
as a day. 

Then came 1917, and the month of October. It was 
in our Nurse’s dining-room that I first heard of Com- 
munists. Our Chief Surgeon came in one night, 
tears streaming down his cheeks, in his hands a tele- 
gram. “Holy Russia has ceased to exist,” said he, “it 
is now in the hands of the Communists who have 
proclaimed a government of Soviets (Councils) of 
Peasants and Workers, and an atheistic government 
it is....God have mercy on us all....” 

Two days later we knew what that meant. Order- 
lies, dishwashers, menials of the hospital, formed 
themselves into “Councils” and ruled in Terror. 
Every night we could hear shots, and we knew that 
they were shooting either the doctors or just the Offi- 
cers. Often these would knock at the window of our 
rooms, and implore us, Nurses, to give them false 
passes, for we still had a supply of Red Cross letter- 
heads, and with these we would manufacture a pass, 
saying that “Private (the officers were disguised as 
such) John Doe was being sent to such a village 
on such and such an errand.” Armed with these 
passes they could, maybe, pass by the Communist 
sentinels and get to the village that usually had a 
railroad station, and escape via it. 

for those passes you gave the escaped officers. ...” 
I did as I was told, thanking him, and off I was te 
another hospital forty miles away. 

There other friends gave me a peasant dress, and 
thus disguised I reached the Railroad Station, thirty- 
five miles away. And for two weeks traveled to Pet- 
rograd, a distance I would have made in ordinary 
times in thirty-six hours. ...But refugees were clut- 
tering up the world then, as they did this war too, 
and progress was slow. I finally came home.... 
Tired, weary, dirty, but above all hungry...too hun- 
gry to listen to what my people were telling me of 
the horrors they had suffered from the heads of the 
New Government. 

All I could think,of was food... .Food. 

Making out a cheque, I dashed to the bank to get 
money to get that Food....The teller was new... .I 
did not know him. He took my cheque, look at it, 
and then laughed as if all the devils were in his soul. 
“Who the h—— do you think you are?” he shouted. 
“Don’t you know, you bloated, bloody capitalists, 
that all your money, your bonds, stocks, real estate, 
your furs, jewels, have been socialized, nationalized, 
taken away? Do’ you know that I can take the very 
clothes off your back and shoot what is inside? 
Get out of here before I change my mind and have 
you arrested!” 

Bewildered, frightened, I got out...still hungry. 
At home my eyes fell on a thousand-dollar sterling 
silver tea set. I grabbed that, and heavy as it was, 
made my way to the street, where I had seen people 
of “my class” exchange valuables for food. ...So did 
I five minutes later....A thousand dollars’ worth of 
silver for one herring and two potatoes.... 

LOVE St. Thomas of Aquinas. I wouldn’t hurt 
him for the world, and therefore I would never 
ask Catholics in America to cease to buy and sell, 
save and invest, insure themselves, and acquire 
homes....No! If I did, that would disrupt the Social 
Order. All these things are good and wholesome in 
themselves. ...But what I do say to my fellow-Cath- 
olics in America, is that at no time should they make 
a God of Security and worldly goods...because if 
they do...for the salvation of their precious soul, 
God may allow them to be taken away as mine 

Let us worship and love God first! And then the 
rest will be added to us. 

LOWLY as the days went, so did all valuables in 
the house, and at the same rate. Then came 

a day when there was nothing to exchange. That 
was also the day when I started on my pilgrimage 
of garbage cans...for hunger is a hard task-master 
....From dawn to dark, I wandered, looking into the 
garbage cans of the Communists, for they ate better 
than the rest of Russia on whom the shadow of abso- 
lute starvation was beginning to fall, and capitalists 
as well as the aristocracy were barred from the pre- 
cious food rationing cards, anyway.... 

(Continued on page 3) 

November, 1944 

Staff Reporter | 

eC. Be 

ADONNA _ FLAT’S _ supper 
table often sees uniforms 
around it and quite frequently the 
people in these uniforms have done 
a good day’s work for Friendship 
House, particularly the sailors. Al 
was one of these, a six-foot colored 
seaman who had been a junior 
counsellor before the war. One 
precious afternoon of his leave had 
been devoted to mopping the li- 
brary and washing its windows. 
These old boys of Friendship House 
carry its ideas to places far from 
New York. 

Al was stationed in Mississippi 
when he heard that a friend of his 
was in the hospital. On his way 
to the ward he was hailed by a 
white fellow who had been his pal 
at boot camp. The white fellow 
was able to get around, so they 
decided to go out. The only places 
they could go were to the movies 
or to get a beer in the canteen. Al 
had seen the current movie and 
they had a lot of experiences to 
talk over since they last met, so 
they went to the canteen. 

The white boy was telling Al of 
a race riot he had seen at one of 
his stations when an S. P. came 
over and said, “Go back to the col- 
ored tables.” 

“Now see here,” said the white 
boy, “Aren’t you here to keep the 

“Yes,” said the S. P. 

“Well, then, why try to start 
something when we’re sitting here 
minding our own business?” 

But Al said, “Never mind. Come 
on back here.” 

So they went to the rear. Al sat 
with his back to the colored table 
and his friend had his back to the 
adjoining white table and they con- 
tinued their talk. 

That night Al thought it over. 
They had been on government 
property, where there should have 
been no restrictions. So next morn- 
ing he went to see the commanding 
officer. The attendant was unwill- 
ing to let him in. 

“If you don’t let me by, I’ll bust 
my way in!” 

“You're just crazy enough to.” 

So he entered the C.O.’s office. 

“Sit down, Patterson,” said the 
officer. But Al merely stood at 

“You know, sir, I’m very at- 
tached to this battalion, so attached 
that I’d go to the bottom with it.” 

“Yes, Patterson, your record is 

“Well, sir, I saw something last 
night that I feel you should know.” 

“Go ahead, Patterson.” 

O Al told of the incident and 
iy the colored boys who pushed 
away their half-full glasses of beer 
and left, muttering, “I wonder if 
the C.O. knows about this?” 

“Thank you, Patterson, I'll see 
about it.” 

So Al waited about three days to 
give him time and then went over 
to the canteen again with several 
other northern colored boys. They 
sat in different places in the hall 
and all went well. Then some 
southern colored boys came in. 
They said to Al, “What do you 
want to sit with the whites for? I 
hate the sight of them. Our tables 
are cooler anyway.” 

(Al calls these “colored rebels” 
who hate a man because his skin is 
white to distinguish them from the 
“white rebels” who hate a man be- 
cause his skin is dark.) 

“Now, boys, you remember when 
we came into town before the can- 
teen was built. We wanted a glass 
of beer. They made us walk two 
miles out of town and after the 
pavement stopped we found we 
had to drink in tumble-down 
hovels, the like of which we'd 
never seen before. That’s what 
segregation means. How do you 
like it? Stick with me and let’s 
do.something about it when we get 
a chance.” 

Some of the colored boys stayed, 
but others still went down to the 
rear tables. Soon Al saw a group 
of white boys he knew enter with 
one whose harmonica and funny 

(Continued on page 8) 


Sands of Time 

(Continued from page 2) 

Several times a day, if I was 
lucky, I would come home with 
some potato peelings or a couple of 
dirty cabbage leaves; and then 
there was rejoicing, for one could 
boil these and stem the painful 
pangs of hunger for an hour or two 
....We ate dogs, cats, mice, rats 
...but so did many others. And 
soon there weren’t any more to be 

I suppose we would have eventu- 
ally simply died from hunger, if 
the Communists had not decided to 
hasten the process by a purge. The 
first one to go in my family was 
my brother. He had recently mar- 
ried, and had a baby boy... .They 
took him from home, wife and 
child, at midnight, of one clear, 
cold frosty night....They shot him 
at 2 A. M. of the same morning 
....When I went to get his body 
in the Gestapo Building, the Red 
Soldiers politely showed me to a 
huge courtyard, where literally 
hundreds of bodies were stacked 
up like cords of wood are stacked 
in Maine...and, smilingly, they 
said, “These are all your brothers 
and sisters. Find your very own 
amongst them if you can....” 

I could not.... 

Next, my father died, as a result 
of Communistic Persecution. All 
in all, from hunger like my aunt, 
or from purges, twenty members of 
my family were “eliminated”... . 
The net was closing around us. My 
mother, myself, two little brothers, 
we decided to flee. ... 

We had the Maginot line com- 
plex then, too, long before there 
was a Maginot Line. We thought 
there was safety in distance.... 
America had, until very recently, 
the same Maginot line complex; 
only long after there was no Mag- 
inot Line. ..the Ocean to them was 
such a safety line....They forgot 
that ideas know no physical ob- 
stacles, that they cross oceans and 
continents....A lot of them have 
come here already, and they are 
terrible, frightening, bad ideas; and 
they will not be killed by bullets, 
nor will they die in concentration 
camps....The only way to kill an 
idea is by a better idea... .Fellow 
Catholics of America, you who 
worry about Fifth Columns and the 
like, have you ever stopped to 

(Continued on page 7) 


Around the House 



HE kitchen faucet is down to a trickle 
And everybody’s thirsty! 
There’s no hot water this three months 
And twenty people for dinner! 
O, the kitchen plaster fell 
Thank God no one was hurt! 
O, the toilet’s on the bum again 
Line forms on the right! 
For the hundredth time, 
Who’ll call the landlord? 
For the 1000th time— 
Who'll call his agent? 
O. He’s never home 
God help the landlord 
God help his agent 
For tomorrow’s the first of the month! 
O God, do we have to pay that rent again? 
That rent we beg and scrape so hard to get? 
i For what? 
; Leaking roofs every time 
i it rains. ..or snows? 
Ceilings so thin when the 
kids upstairs let the water run 
over it floods our floor below? 
Books ruined.... 
Desks flooded... . 
Papers, letters, property destroyed.... 

And the landlord sits in his 
brand new flat on the other side 
of town and muses on his good investments. a house on the South Side 
It’s a cinch.... 
Niggers live there; so you 
don’t have to repair—easy money! 
Just smile and say each month...yes, yes, we’ll see 
about it, collect your rent and 
So long...till next month 
Easy money! 

And so what? 
So who’s gonna do anything about it? 
The ones who say— 
Oh, these people are shiftless.... 

there goes the plaster on you!) 
So who’s gonna do anything about it? 
The landlord? 
He‘s dead! 
Yes, he died last week! 
Gosh, we ought to pray for him 
to pray for his soul 
Someone said.... 
Yes, we ought to remember him in 
our Masses.... 
He made his pile 
from the bad fortune of the poor 
Christ said, “Love your enemies— 
Do good to them that hate you. Pray 
for them that revile or mistreat you... .” 
Think of it! 

Look how ,.they treat property!...(Look out, Bill, 

What a terrible thing it is for 
a man to fall into the hands 
of the living God. 
Think_of a man facing his Maker 
to give an account of his 
as each of us’ll have to do! 
“What doth it profit a man 

to gain the whole world—if 
he suffer 

the loss of his own soul?” 

Think of the justice of God 

who, after death, no longer 

shows mercy! 
Think what the landlord is fac- 
Think of the sins that cry to heaven 
for vengeance: 
To grind the faces of the poor by 

—paying inhuman, insuffi- 
cient wages 

—ignoring just demands 

—making (and signing) re- 
strictive covenants— 

—mortgaging bodies and 
souls for life by preying 
on natural cravings for 

—enclosing some members of 
Christ’s Mystical Body in 

—making one class pay 
through the nose for the 
privilege of living in the 
broken-down cast-offs of 
another class; 

Oh, yes... 
The landlord knows... 

I am my brother’s keeper 
Because my brother is Christ 
Christ is my brother— 
Do I? 

Chicago Briefs 
OE ROSMARIN, of Notre Dame, 
and Bob Holzauer, coop-man 
extraordinary, painted and mended 
and cleaned the Casita—and then 
the rains came—and our nice, new 
floor got a cosmic ablution.... 

Our gay and cheerful sem, 
Adolph Schalk (O’Schalknessy, to 
you), captivated all hearts.... 

Jimmy Jones dropped in to say 
hello en route west...Bravo! for 
all the CA he’s doing to make peo- 
ple understand that Christ is in all 

Jody Kohler, new staff member 
from Minnesota, is studying social 
psychiatry at Loyola.... 

Cliff Thomas, pioneer volunteer, 
has originated a course for older 
boys and girls, “Practical Moral 
Problems”... . 

On Having Reached ® 
of Two 

Feast of Blessed Martin 
November 5, 1944 

From Harlem FH 

Anno Domi 

“Keep the Negroes in thétr 
(Tears are streaming do 

“They'll take jobs that wk mus 
keep” — 

(Thorns are sharp—theirdyp 


“Those radicals don’t understand! 
(Blood drips from each holy hand. 

“Want to live with blacks?” An 
eat?” » « 

(Flesh is torn from holy feet.) 

“Want them in our churche, too? 
(“For they know not whé@t the 

“No inferior race must rise!” 
(“The Redeemer gasps and dies. 
—Lucine Pawlowski. 

."o habitual practice fi ur 
bloody martyrdom, a 
cording to St. Benedict’s Rule cor 
sists in obedience and person: 
poverty, produces that heroic di: 
position in souls without which s 
cial services of a higher quality ar 
Dom Albert Hammen 

t understand!” 
ch holy hand.) 

blacks?” And 
acks « n 
oly feet.) 
hurcheg, too?” 
ot wh@t they 

+ 2 
ist rise! 
sps and dies.) 
- Pawlowski. 

tice pf un- 
om, ch ac- 
ict’s Rule con- 
and personal 
iat heroic dis- 
hout which so- 
ner quality are 

men ian 

Staff Has 2nd 
Orientation Week 

.. HILDLERLEY, near Wheeling, 

Ill., was the scene of the Sec- 
ond Friendship House orientation 
week from September 26 to 30. The 
fresh, clean tang of the autumn air 
was quite a contrast to the hot, 
sultry weather we experienced 

during the first orientation week 
held in July down on noisy 43rd 
street for the visiting volunteers. 

With the gracious assistance of 
Miss Johanna Doniat, who permit- 
ted us to use the Calvert Club resi- 
dences, and Mary Ellen Downs, 
who drove us out with all our lug- 
gage and groceries, the nine staff 
members closed Friendship House 
on Tuesday evening for four quiet 
days in the country. That first 
evening we gathered around a 
roaring fire in the fireplace of St. 
Joan’s with the Baroness and Ed- 
die Doherty to discuss Friendship 
House policies and techniques—a 
very interesting and informal dis- 
cussion through which we learned 
to know each other much better be- 
fore the evening closed with Com- 

On Wednesday morning after a 
brisk hike to Mass we picked deli- 
cious red apples and ripe pears 
from the trees in the orchard. Then 
the Baroness, the foundress and 
general director of Friendship 
House, spoke to us on the virtue of 
humility and discussed with us its 
importance in connection with our 

After a somewhat, devious route, 
Father Cantwell came out on 
Thursday to say our Dialogue Mass 
and to discuss with us the subjects 
of Poverty and Obedience as they 
apply to our life at Friendship 
House. On Friday Monsignor Hil- 
lenbrand offered Mass for us in our 
Chapel-in-the-Orchard, and then 
spoke to us on the Gift of Oneself 
and the Mass. 

In between lectures and discus- 
sions we read, studied, sang, played 
games, wrote letters, mended, and 
just relaxed completely in prepa- 
ration for the opening of our regu- 
lar fall schedule at Friendship 
House. The group formulated res- 
olutions and unanimously decided 
that this second week of orienta- 
tion was a grand success. 

—Josephine Kohler. 



OMEWHAT in the nature of an 
~ experiment, we dug up the 
old bushel basket of toys that 
was gathering dust in the store- 
room, washed and painted them up 
and put them out on the little red 
and blue shelves in the “toy cor- 
ner” for the little kids. Among the 
things that came to light were tey 
washing machines, sinks and stoves 
that really work—even a minia- 
ture sewing machine that really 
sews, or will, when we get a needle 
to fit it. 

Willie, or “Buckey,” brother of 
our notorious tomboy, Delores, can 
hardly wait till we do get a needle 
for the sewing machine. Every day 
when he comes in, it is his first 
question. In the meantime, Delores 
is (thank God) reaching the age 
when ping pong is becoming a pos- 
sibility. The result is that during 
the GAMES period, at least, our 
behavior problems are almost cut 
in half. 

Memories of the circus were once 
again revived. The occasion was 
the preparation for the laying of 
the linoleum in the Casita. The 

Cub Scouts had put on a “gigantic” . 

circus in June to raise funds to 
purchase the floor covering, but 
due to restrictions, labor shortage, 
and what not, we were unable to 
get the linoleum immediately. Very 
often a little cub would come in 
and ask, “When are we going to 
get the new linoleum?”, or Jess 
Gill would say, “Didn’t we make 
enough dough on the show?” 

AST week the Cub Scouts and 
Martinettes found the answer 
to all their questions. The 

Casita had been cleaned thorough- 
ly and Bob even painted fish on the 
bathroom walls and planted ivy 
vines in the old wash basin. Beau- 
tiful new linoleum covered the en- 
tire floor. The Casita’s dingy floor 
used to be just another bleak spot 
in the neighborhood. And now... 

But the linoleum also brought 
along its troubles. The man who 
laid the covering gave instructions 
that we should use very little water 
and we were prepared to be care- 
ful. Before we had time to do any 
cleaning, the janitor came and 
turned off the water in the build- 
ing. George and Horace were not 
upstairs when he came. A little 
while later they came home to get 
a drink of water. They proceeded 
to try one faucet after another, but 

could not get one drop. At last 
they decided to go outside in pur- 
suit of water. Then the janitor re- 
turned to turn on the water. The 
boys had forgotten to turn the 
faucets off and their mother was 
sound asleep, so several hours later 
we found our new floor under five 
inches of water. Of course, we 
have our perpetual leaks, holes, 
ete., in the Casita, but this was a 
new high. 

We couldn’t help wondering if 
the Cub Scouts had remembered 
from June the part they had 
played. At recess the question was 
thrown out, “Who knows how we 
got this wonderful new linoleum 
and who helped us get it?” One or 
two cubs were in the circle and the 
rest were assorted Martinettes. The 
guessing began and went like this: 
The Government? No. Friendship 
House? No. The Carpenter? No. 
God? Yes, but not directly. You? 
(and here is where we received a 
blistering look from Councilor, 
Marcella). Mr. Clif? No. Finally 
we got around to the correct an- 
swer, that Cub Pack No. 3590, with 
God’s help and Blessed Martin’s 
prayers, were those directly respon- 


Housing Problem No. 656 

9TTIS true that Bobby Burns, 
with poetic fortitude yearns 
for the bite of a louse. 
I got it 
He should get it. 
And Gerard Manley Hopkins, S. J. 
Sang “Glory be to dappled 
yea...Oh yea 
I’m spreckled 
Not freckled, 
heckled. ... 

Certain Saints said love little 
precocious mites full of stings; 
With the annointed 
Now I am saying, 
Using it, and praying. 
So half white, half red 
again I approach the de- 
ceitful bed 
and thus I ponder 
shall I suffer attack, turn more 
or perchance, 
with the Saints kneel through 
the night 
attain, sweet Blanche. 
—Bob Holzauer. 


nee GN NEED EN NS ER Ie ese Releasing eye nae 


November, 1944 

The Baroness Jots [lt Down 

a Holy Ghost certainly must have been close by when we decided 

to start a Friendship House Outer Circle, back last January. For, 
judging by the response to our invitation-in the October issue of F. H. 
News, it was just what our readers were waiting for. Letters of applica- 
tion are still pouring in and spilling over my desk. I am so happy, for now 
our family is really growing....Please keep it up. For there is no limit 

to our welcome. 

All you have to do is to write to me at 8 West Walton 

Place, Chicago 10, Ill., and apply for a membership. You will get our 

literature, a membership card, and 
the monthly letter that will sum- 
marize for you the conversations 
on the things of God we hold in 
Chicago. Moreover, we will be 
glad to hear from you, and to an- 
swer any questions you might have 
on the Lay Apostolate, either 
Friendship House Style or general. 
Do write...and let us together 
work at the further extension of 
Christ’s Kingdom on earth. 

* * 


VALA of the Franciscan 
Fathers, St. Joseph’s Church, 306 
Ogden Avenue, Bastrop, Louisiana, 
writes, “Bastrop is a town of 6,000, 
of which nearly half is colored. I 
am in Bastrop to lay the founda- 
tions. for a Catholic Community. 
At present there are no Catholics 
here. The solitary one has left 
town. I am trying to get a church 
building, but above all a school.” 

What a magnificent faith—what 
a grand courage—to go into a town 
where there are no Catholics—face 
all the religious and racial preju- 
dices of such a place—and give 
one’s life to conquering them for 
the gentle Christ. Money is but a 
medium of exchange. Why not ex- 
change some of your money for 
souls? Why not answer thus 
Christ’s tragic whisper from the 
Cross, “Sitio,..I° Thirst..” For 
souls. He did...does and always 
will. Why not quench His thirst 

T was swell to visit New York’s 
Friendship House. Grand to 
see old friends, be greeted on fa- 
miliar and beloved streets. Steep 
myself into the memories of old 
days, that time has mellowed and 
glorified. It seems almost incred- 
ible that October 15, 1944, marked 
our fifteenth anniversary. It takes 
me back to Toronto, Canada, and 
an eager group of people, young 
and old, who sat up several times 
a week, and just talked about God 
and the things of God, and would 
not go home until the wee small 
hours of the morning. Strange 


what “talking about God” does.... 

At first it is outward...then, 
somehow it turns right around and 
becomes. inward. Maybe that is 
what the Scriptures call “search- 
ing of hearts.” Yes, that is just it. 
One begins to search one’s heart 
...and then...before you can say 
“knife,” you find yourself “want- 
ing,” and you begin spring cleaning 
your soul...and that leads you to 
your neighbor. ..and loving him... 
because you now really, truly want 
to love God...and there is no other 
way to prove to God that you love 
Him except through loving your 
neighbor for His sake. 

Once you start on the path of 
love, there is no telling where you 
will end. What a glorious, joyous 

adventurous thing conversations 
about God are. Why not start 

For G. W. Carver 

He took the warm, brown earth 
into his hands, 

The warm brown earth, which 
matched his own dark skin. 

He closed his fist and felt the heat 

The heat a Southern sun had put 

He took the pure bright colors of 
the earth 

And to the world he made a gift of 

He took a plant men said had little 

And found a use for fruit and leaves 
and stem. 

But though he did these things and 
many more, 

He did not take the praise, instead 

That it had been the hand of God 
that tore 

The lock which keeps the Book of 
Knowledge closed. 

Good fertile fields he made from 
useless sod— 

This man with willing hands and 
faith in God. 



24, 1912, AND MARCH 3, 1933 

Of Harlem Friendship House News, published 

monthly Sept.-June, bi-monthly July-Aug., at 

Station L, New York, New York, for October 

1, 1944. 

State of New York, County of New York, ss: 
Before me, a notary in and for the State and 

county aforesaid, personally appeared Nancy 

Grenell who, having been duly sworn according 

to law, deposes and says that she is the Assist- 

ant Editor of the Harlem Friendship House 

News, and that the following is, to the best of 

her knowledge and belief, a true statement of 

the ownership, management (and if a daily 
paper, the circulation), ete., of the aforesaid 
publication for the date shown in the above 

caption, required by the Act of August 24, 1912, 

as amended by the Act of March 3, 1933, em- 

bodied in section 537, Postal Laws and Regula- 
tions, printed on the reverse of this form, to 

1. That the names and addresses of the pub- 
lisher, editor, managing editor, and business 
managers are: 

Publisher, Friendship House, 34 W. 135th St., 
New York 30, N. Y. 

Editor, Catherine de 
Pl.. Chicago 10, Ill. 

Ass’t Editor, Nancy Grenell, 48 W. 138th St., 
New York 30, N. Y. 

Business Managers—None. 

2. That the owner is (If owned by a cor- 
poration, its name and address must be stated 
and also immediately thereunder the names and 
addresses of stockholders owning or holding one 
percent or mere of total amount of stock. If 
not owned by a corporation, the names and 
addresses of the individual owners must be 
given. If owned by a firm, company. or other 
unincorporated concern, its name and address, 
as well as those of each individual member, 
must be given.) 

Hueck, & W. Walton 

Not a corporation. Owned by Catherine de 
Hueck, 8 W. Walton Pl., Chicago 10, Ill, Gen- 
eral Director of Friendship House.; Nancy Gre- 
nell, Local Director of Harlem Friendship House, 
34 W. 135th St., New York 30, N. Y. 

That the known bondholders, mortgagees, 
and other security holders owning or holding 
1 percent or more of total amount of bonds, 
mortgages, or other securities are: (If there are 
none, so state.) None. 

4. That the two paragraphs next above giv- 
ing the names of the owners, stockholders, and 
security holders, if any, cpntain not only a list 
of stockholders and security holders as they 
appear upon the books of the company but also. 
in cases where the stockholder or security holder 
appers upen the books of the company as trus- 
tee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name 
of the person or corporation for whom such 
trustee is acting, is given; also that the said 
two paragraphs contain statements embracing 
affiant’s full knowledge and belief as to the 
circumstances and conditions under which stock- 
holders and security holders who do not appear 
upon the books of the company as _ trustees, 
hold stock and securities in a canacity other 
than that of a bona fide owner: and this affiant 
has no reason to believe that any other person, 
association, or cerporation has any interest di- 
rect or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or 
other securities than as so stated by her. 

Nancy Grenell., 
Ass’t Editor 

Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th 
day of Septembeg, 1944. 


Strickland E. Cochrane 

Public, Bronx County. Bronx Co. 

. County 
(My commis- 

Clerk’s No. 51, Reg. No. 94-C-6, N. Y¥ 
Clerk’s No. 600, Reg. No. 339-C-6. 
sion expires March 30, 1946.) 

Subscribe to 


50 Cents a Year 

Get Your Friends to 


34 West 135th Street 
New York 30, New York 




ATO ae eames 




November, 1944 

(Continued from page 3) 
think that we Catholics have the 
best ideas of all capable of killing 
all the “Isms”? 

For the dynamite of Christianity 
can out-dynamite the dynamite of 
Communism and Nazism sky-high, 
if only you and I have the courage 
to light the fuse of that Christian 
dynamite...which is lighted only 
with two kinds of matches—an in- 

%  tellectual allegiancy, worship and 
service...and if we walk and talk 
with Him, as children should.... 

On the,other hand, I saw that 
night (and still see Catholics in 
America do likewise) that I had 
been taking shadows, and making, 

° grotesque figurines out of them... 
like kids in a kindergarten, little 
and like the same children, giving 
these figurines names...Behold 
there they are....Wealth, Power 
and Fame...and falling prostrate 

ae before them, I had worshipped 
them, just as Catholics in America 
are still doing.... 

For ages Christians of all nations 
have tried to do the impossible, in- 
tegrate the service of God and 
Mammon....Christ said it could 

®@ not be done, but we still try... 
wasting our holy energies. . .damn- 
ing our immortal souls...we go on 
trying....Until someone of us... 
sits by a fire, looking at the face 
of death, and seeing the face of 

e Christ....Then it seems, and only 
then (but by the grace of God) do 
we at last comprehend the words 
of A Kempis...“Vanity, all is van- 
Re nis s 

} Then, too, did I understand that 

f sometimes it was easier to die for 

‘gor with Christ than live for Him 

...and how I longed to do just that, 
Then when it seemed too late.... 
How I pray today that my be- 



8 West Walton Place 

Sands of Time 

Friendship House Lecture Bureau 

Bookings Open For: 



eo wo A est oe aenndtan @& 


loved America might learn this 
lesson, at the Tabernacles of its 
many Churches, instead of in the 
midst of the abomination of deso- 
lation of wars and revolutions... 
but it is always thus, only here and 
there to God’s Missionaries on 
earth, comes the vision of Truth, 
and life like a puzzle falling into 
place, and First Things Come First, 
and second, second...Then.... 

It seems to me that the dream of 
Friendship House was born then 
for me at that fireplace, face to 
face with death. .. .It was then that 
I saw the whole pattern of lay mis- 
sionary life....The Apostolate of 
the Laity... .It seemed too late... 
but it was not...the White Forces 
of Russia, who were then waging 
a Civil War against the Commu- 
nists, by accident, fought their bat- 
tle on our land, and were victori- 
ous in that skirmish. We were lib- 
erated from our imprisonment, and 
after a long hospitalization we 
were so weak...mother went to 
Europe with my two little broth- 
ers, and I came to America via 

To America...and...Harlem... 
and Friendship House...and the 
Lay Apostolate of Catholic Ac- 

Friends, do not pity me... .In- 
stead help me to thank God for His 
great gift to me, so weak, so un- 
worthy and so sinful....For He 
has given me His greatest gift... 
pain, tears, blood and sacrifice... it is all so clear to 
me....For reasons of His very 
own unfathomable ones... .Christ 
stooped to my littleness and un- 
worthiness, and wrote for me in 
the sand of time the ABC’s of 
spiritual life.... 




Chicago 10, Ill. 

‘child could get its directions. It is 



By Catherine de Hueck 

MAP OF LIFE, by F. J. Sheed, 
Sheed and Ward. $1.00. 

UT the “Map of Life” has been 
published years ago. Why 
review it again? A natural 

question. And yet there are books 
that MUST be reviewed again and 
again. For as time goes by their 
significance grows, their usefulness 
is increased, they answer greater 

The MAP OF LIFE is just such a 
book. Today we are all bogged 
down in a labyrinth of false prem- 
ises, we wander alone, no one hands 
us a light to see by, nor a map to 
extricate ourselves with. No one, 
that is except Mr. Frank Sheed, via 
his book. 

And his MAP is so simple—a 

so clear that a person with but a 
tiny portion of his spiritual vision 
could “read it”—for all it does is 
restate first principles first. THAT 
IS ALL. But in the chaotic think- 
ing of today, what a joy, what a 
relief, to find someone who knows 
the way and explain it tersely, 
simply, directly. 

Yes, the MAP OF LIFE bears re- 
viewing, and what is more, bears 
rereading, restudying. There comes 
with it an outline of it, for study 
clubs and discussion groups. To- 
gether the two will guide us out of 
the labyrinth, out of the darkness 
of it, into God’s light. Why not 
buy it now..invite your friends.. 
read and study it together. .thus 
lighting our lamps with its clear 
oil of knowledge, and preparing 
ourselves for the darkness that will 
inevitably come, when the horrors 
of war are over. 


T. G. Wayne... ..$1.50 
F. J. Sheed........ $1.00 
Eddie Doherty ....$1.50 
Eddie Doherty ....$2.75 

Larne ne chee RP RCE EH 

Martin de Porres 
(Continued from page 1) 

of Rodrigo Melendez is entered and 
Martin ministers to the sick man; 
boys are miraculously carried back 
to the convent; Martin is seen fly- 
ing through corridors as a ball of 
fire; all these things become so 
commonplace as to be accepted as 
the regular course of events in the 
life of this saint. 

HE wonders of his life he re- 
T peats today, and he turns from 
important concernsiof lift and 
death to relatively unimportant fa- 
vors. A house is sold; a man late 
for a train finds that the train waits 
for him; an examination that looked 
hopeless is passed; and letters are 
received from long lost friends. 
There was the member of the Serra 
Club, for example, whose brother 
had not been heard from for many 
months, but on an appeal to BI. 
Martin relief from this worry is 
wiped out on the instant. “Help 

us, Blessed Martin; help us and get , 

word from my brother.” The brief 
prayer is concluded, and opening 
the paper, my friend sees his broth- 
er’s name listed as having arrived 
safely in Australia! 

Bl. Martin is a great wonder 
worker, but the Holy Ghost makes 
use of such wonders only to bring 
us closer to God. That is Martin’s 
mission. We cannot love this 
humble saint, unless we try to em- 
ulate his charity, and charity is a 
cloak covering all:of God’s crea- 
tures. Bright jewel in the crown of 
Our Lady, pray for us. 

GHOST is not a devotion of prayers 
and novenas as people sometimes 
have for the saints, but it is such a 
connection with the Divine Spirit 
that our whole life is permeated by 
it. It gives the soul a different 
character, a certain mark, and 
makes evident to those about us 
that we are supernaturalized. 
When we permit the Holy Spirit to 
take possession of our souls, then 
every little action is changed, 
whether one is praying or cook- 
ing or merely opening and closing 
a door. S. M. S. 


Lights and Shadows 
(Continued from page 1) 

pen, and there are so many many 
blank spaces. 

A ledger of good deeds. What a 
shabby thing it is. Suppose the 
angels look embarrassed when they 
gaze upon it. And suppose the 
guardian of the gate sort of holds 
his nose when he examines it! Well, 
it’s all you have in the way of a 
record, so in it goes. For good or 

And the book of your sacrifices, 
if any—the little mortifications you 
have inflicted on yourself for the 
love of God, the slights and slurs 
you have accepted for His sake. 
Things like that. 

Then, whether you like it or not, 
you must fill up the bag with sins, 
little and big, sins of commission 
and omission. These take up so 
much room you can scarce close 
the bag. But there’s no help for it. 
You haven’t much time. The train 
that will carry you away will not 

You can’t help, though, standing 
over the bag, wondering if there 
isn’t something you’ve forgotten, 
some little but essential thing, 
some article you just can’t do with- 

Oh. An act of contrition! If you 
can find it in time everything will 
be all right. You can throw out 
the sins. The bag will close easily. 
It will be no burden to carry. And 
you can go on your way unworried. 

Return Postage Guaranteed 
34 West 135th St., New York 30, N. Y. 

Staff Reporter 
(Continued from page 3) 

songs were the life of every bar- 
racks he had been in. Al told them 
what was up and asked them to go 
back to the recalcitrant ones and 
cheer them up. Before long white 
and colored were singing together. 
The old, hard tight feeling of strain 
and hate was gone and morale 
went up 1,000 percent in the whole 

oe Al went up to the S. P. 

and asked him about how he 
should behave in the South, as he 
might get killed for doing some- 
thing he didn’t even know was con- 
sidered wrong. The S.P. loosened 
up and gave him some brotherly 
lessons in the complicated, delicate 
and dangerous etiquette of racial 
relations in the South. When he 
finished Al explained the Mystical 
Body as he had heard the Baroness 
do so many times. The S. P. said, 
“IT see the idea and I see in my 
mind that it’s right, but I still have 
the same feeling in my heart.” Al 
answered, “That is because your 
heart is dead. If you pray enough 
it will come to life again. We 
should do what we know is right 
even if we don’t feel like it.” 

To the staff of Friendship House 
this was a very fine story, not only 
because of Al’s fine voice and his 
humorous way of talking, but be- 
cause it gave another instance of 
the influence Friendship House can 
have in clearing up explosive situa- 

If Americans would utilize the 
grace of Christ and earnestly strive 
to fullfill its teaching, many of our 
greater social evils would be miti- 
gated, and the Negro would receive 
more equitable treatment. 

November, 1944 


¥ °