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 Martin? 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- get.

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)


f 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


ATHER EDWARD LEEN, in 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)

2 HARLEM FRIENDSHIP HOUSE NEWS November, 1944 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 were....

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 peace?”

“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 ease.

“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 good.”

“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 had....

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. Sure...buy 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! 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 stewardship!.... 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- ing— 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 “luxuries”

—enclosing some members of Christ’s Mystical Body in ghettoes

—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... Now...that

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

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 men....

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 Face.)

“They'll take jobs that wk mus keep”

(Thorns are sharp—theirdyp deep.)


“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 do.”)

“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 unthinkable. Dom Albert Hammen -B.

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

wd 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- pline.

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 work.

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? No. BLESSED MARTIN? No (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- sible.


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 things” yea...Oh yea I’m spreckled Not freckled, heckled. ...

Certain Saints said love little things, precocious mites full of stings; With the annointed Now I am saying, “Salve” 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 red, 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 now?

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 some?

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 expand,

The heat a Southern sun had put therein.

He took the pure bright colors of the earth

And to the world he made a gift of them.

He took a plant men said had little worth

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 disclosed

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.




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 wit:

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.

(Seal) Notary

Strickland E. Cochrane

Public, Bronx County. Bronx Co.

. County (My commis-

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

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° ty


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