Today Scott Schaeffer-Duffy confirmed that, unfortunately, it was.

I first met Michael when I lived at the Catholic Worker. One night at 2am someone was crashing around the kitchen. I went downstairs to discover a drunk man who’d wandered in (no locks on the doors) to make coffee and a sandwich. He said, “It’s OK, ask Scott.” Turns out it wasn’t OK, but Michael was about the most pleasant drunken stranger you could ask for.

I know Michael caused some people a world of trouble. I was lucky: he was always nice to me, drunk or sober. One person I talked to shared my opinion:

I never had a problem with Mike. I liked his poetry. He did steal my shoes one time. But other than that, he was a cool guy. In fairness, he did take my shoes, and I saw him wearing them, and I asked him about it, and he said, “Oh, is it OK if I take these shoes?” And I said sure. So, in hindsight, he asked permission.

Here’s something I wrote 5 years ago:

I ran into Michael Webster briefly at the Java Hut Tuesday morning, and was glad that he came by the house yesterday morning for a cup of coffee and a long chat. He wrote me a poem and said I could publish it.

Unendless Chord
Please Lord Jesus take away my fears,
that lead me into the devil’s snares.
Lead me instead towards your heavenly reward,
where the angels play the harps’ unendless chord.

I pray that Michael shuffled through the pearly gates Friday night, no matter what St. Peter said. Sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than ask permission.

Michael’s obituary in the Catholic Radical:
Michael Dennis Webster was struck by a hit-and-run driver just before midnight on June 3rd. He died later that night. He was 58 years old.

Michael was a frequent visitor to the Saints Francis & Thérèse Catholic Worker, sometimes asking for food, clothing, or a blanket, but just as often offering a poem or drawing for our newsletter. He was a drinker who slept on the street too often during his shortened life. He was a drinker and a dreamer. He is missed. We pray that he has reached a safe harbor at long last.

Ding Dong! “Good Grief!” I grumbled as I dragged myself out of bed. “Who the heck could be at our door at 2 a.m.?” I went into our chilly hall to see a young couple on our front porch.

I asked them in and quickly learned that they are musicians from Illinois who were sleeping in their van in a Walmart parking lot until it got too cold.

“Our van died in front of your house,” the husband said gesturing toward a vehicle jutting out at an angle from Mason Court into Mason Street. “We know the Saint Louis Catholic Worker,” he concluded, as if that pretty much told all we needed to know.

True enough. Forget the fact that we were biblically obligated to welcome them as we would Christ Himself, how could we be jerks to someone who might tarnish our reputation in the CW family? So I roused Dave, who helped move the van, while I made up two beds and then settled our latest guests in for the night.

By dinner time the next day, this couple, who previously represented a late- night aggravation, were transformed into a fascinating pair who have recorded some pretty impressive music. So it goes. Contrary to the adage about familiarity breeding contempt, I find that I usually like people once I get to know them. Personal details elevate our guests above the stereotypes tacked on by social workers or late night first impressions.

When details emerge of how someone came to seek shelter from us, we become intimately aware of lives in a downward spiral and, worse still, lives which never really had any security to begin with. The transformation, we witness in them as they become more comfortable here, is one of my favorite things about the Catholic Worker. They seem more at home. We are able to joke together and reduce the indignities of their situation. These strangers become “our people” as the Southerners used to say when Claire and I were Catholic Workers in Washington, DC.

Hospitality often reminds me of resurrection. When a person is down and alone, they feel pretty morbid. Their former friends and family might even treat them as if they were dead. Watching a guest regain confidence is like springtime, a new beginning after a hard winter. The late-night couple shared their music, other guests have shared their writing, and many have shared their art. These aren’t bums. They are individuals with something unique to contribute.

Of course, resurrections are very much like spring in that they are seasons. Only The Resurrection is eternal. Some of our guests arrive as the leaves are turning brown. Some are stuck in a bitter cold winter, mocking the idea of spring rebirth.

The people of Egypt, Tunisia, Libya, Bahrain, and anywhere else where dictatorships are being torn down are also experiencing a kind of spring. Unfortunately, the Chinese student uprising, crushed in Tianamen Square, never got the chance to blossom into democratic summer. Unlike calendar seasons, life’s seasons aren’t always timely or consecutive. But our actions can help bring spring on and lengthen summertime. Our faith can also dispel the despair which sees spring as impossible.

In a way, the Catholic Worker plants seeds for a new spring. Our hospitality and peacework are as hopeful as farming. Your prayers and support are essential for that miracle. May Christ’s Resurrection on Easter make it easier for you to believe in resurrections too.

My plans for the three days following Christmas were pretty simple. With Claire, Scott, and the family away in New Hampshire, and Dave in the upper Midwest, vacationing with friends and relatives, I was going to stay at Mason Street to assure that the house ran like the proverbial well-oiled machine.

The first day, Sunday, ran so smoothly that I began to believe that I could actually pull this off. Our three guests, Rao, Fouad, and “Samantha,” sat around the table, ate Christmas leftovers, and talked like old friends. We watched TV, read, and relaxed, and all of us were in bed by ten.

Monday was a different story—a completely different story. The first snowstorm of the season had blown in overnight, leaving a foot of swirling, drifting snow in its wake. Feeling tired after repeated attempts to remove what the plows then replaced, I ordered a couple of pizzas for supper and waited for them to be delivered.

Around ten o’clock, just as I was preparing to call it a day, Rao ran downstairs and informed me that Samantha was having a “medical crisis.” I arrived in her room to find her visibly shaken and in tears. She told me that she felt pressure in chest, was having difficulty breathing, and couldn’t stop shaking. She asked to go to the hospital. After calling 911 and filling them in, I went outside to await the first responders. Within two minutes, a fire truck and an ambulance, sirens and strobe lights splitting the night, arrived to take over. In another ten minutes, they had taken Samantha to the hospital. At two o’clock that morning, I was awakened by the sound of the front door opening. Samantha was back, saying amid mighty yawns that she felt better and would be ready to go after a good night’s sleep. Recuperation is quick in these parts!

On Tuesday evening, while our friend David Maher served supper, Samantha left the table amidst more tears. As I followed her to her room, I heard her on her cell phone. “The cops are coming,” she said. I could only stammer an uncertain, “What?” I discovered that Samantha had “borrowed” one of our kitchen knives that morning before setting off to visit a friend. While there, she had threatened to hurt herself. Her friend had rightly called the police, who appeared at the house to transport Samantha to the Emergency Mental Health unit of a local hospital.

“Well,” said a visibly relieved Rao, “that’ll be it for the night.” But that was not to be. Several hours later, Samantha reappeared, bearing instructions to visit her psychiatrist in the morning for a reevaluation of her meds!

Each of us has plans. Rao, a gregarious, extremely friendly visitor from India, works daily to learn all he can about computers and finance so he can “be a success.” Fouad, an Iraqi student, here with the help of the Iraqi Student Project, studies at Clark University and hopes to return to his country to aid in its rebuilding. And Samantha? She’s a single mom with more than her share of problems, who hopes eventually to be reunited with her child. Here at 52 Mason Street, our plans are to continue providing housing, food, and support to those who seem to find constant obstacles blocking their paths.

We know your struggles have mirrored the economy’s, and that, like us, you’re having difficulties making ends meet. This makes us all the more grateful for your help in defraying winter’s inevitable costs. We encourage you to write us and continue sharing your thoughts on our work and this newsletter. As you read this, it’ll be almost time for the baseball season to begin. Spring must be just around the corner!

Dear Catholic Workers and friends,

The Saints Francis & Therese Catholic Worker community was founded in 1986. We did not want to be tax exempt and we did not want to receive any interest, so we opened an non-interest bearing checking account under the name “SS. Francis & Therese Catholic Worker.” Our bank called the account a club account and took my name and two other members of our community as signatories. For the past 15 years, my wife Claire and I have filed a tax return listing our personal income (from free-lance writing and public speaking) and have attached a letter on house stationary telling the IRS that our personal income was deposited in our house account and that we live and work in the Saints Francis & Therese Catholic Worker along with our four children, we do not receive salaries, but do have room and board which come out of private donations to our community. We also reported to the IRS how much was income was donated to our community and deposited in that account and how many people were sheltered each year with those donations. The IRS never audited us or even asked us any questions.

Unfortunately, the manager of our bank called today and told me that our checking account was going to be closed in two weeks because it is no longer legal to have an account under a group name unless that account is a business account with a tax number different from my social security number. I called the IRS to ask them about this and a very nice woman listened to me explaining the Catholic Worker philosophy and our desire not to be tax exempt status or to receive interest. She suggested that we file to become a non-profit organization without tax exempt status, and I quoted Peter Maurin that the Catholic Worker is an organism not an organization. She dutifully referred to our community for the rest of the conversation as an organism. She told me that there was a form of nonprofit status that was not tax exempt, but admitted that it required considerably more documentation than we currently keep. She suggested that I talk to an accountant or tax attorney. I know neither.

I spoke to Chris Allen-Doucot at the Hartford Catholic Worker, and his community is in the middle of a similar quandary. Lawyers have told Chris that the Catholic Worker doesn’t fit any of the government’s designations.

What are other communities doing? Does anyone have any helpful suggestions? In two weeks checks we receive in our community’s name will have no place to go. If we change our account to a personal account, we can only accept checks in our own names and all the income will be seen as personal income by the IRS. Our house received about $50,000 in donations last year. The IRS would want taxes on that income. Many donors would be reluctant to give to a personal name instead of a community name.

We want to be creative and faithful to the alternative economics of the Catholic Worker. Do we have to give up banking altogether and take our bills door to door to get strangers to pay them, while we fill a begging bowl to feed our guests? Do we need to ask donors to give only cash or actual food and cleaning products?

The IRS lady appreciated it when I told her that our community shelters people without taking a dime from the government and without asking for a tax exemption from our local taxes. She agreed that it was strange to penalize us. She also suggested that the new banking laws which have restricted a bank’s ability to reap huge profits on credit cards and other loans have prompted them to try to force customers into business accounts which charge for every transaction, including every check deposited. I would hate to see donor’s money diverted into the clutches of greedy banks.

Some Answers

Thank you to the many Catholic Workers in many communities who have already responded to my email. I am impressed with the speed and thoughtfulness of all the replies. They might be helpful to post on this site for new communities to see.

What I have learned since yesterday is good and bad news. The bad news is that credit unions, although better in many ways than regular banks, are still required to get an EIN (Employee Identification Number) for an account that is not in an individual’s name. The good news is that Claire and I can go to our city hall and get a “business certificate” for $25 to designate both of us as “doing business as Saints Francis and Therese Catholic Worker.” We then take this certificate to the Worcester Credit Union and they will create a business account with an EIN. (They will require us to deposit $25 in a savings account which earns 2% interest because all customers are members. The nice woman I spoke to at the Credit Union said that we could not return the interest to the bank at the end of each year, but did allow that we might bake the employees a cake or some bread equal to the small value of the interest.) This would not make us a non profit, either taxpaying or tax exempt. It was suggested to me that Claire and my personal income be kept in a different account, but we want to “hold all things in common” and not separate what happens to come to us in our name from any other gifts. We aren’t sure what this means for income tax purposes. We know that our expenses equal or exceed our donations which would go into this account, so it would not make a profit. We also learned that any personal donation under $10,000 is not taxable and since most of our donations are under $150, we aren’t worried. We like the designation “doing business as” because it doesn’t say we are a business, which we aren’t, but it also doesn’t say what we are. I feel like the Catholic Worker should be a square peg in a round hole which encourages individuals to personally reach out to others without go-betweens or government benefits or scrutiny.

A multi-faceted solution is for us to:

1. to live more simply, thereby reducing our costs;
2. to encourage supporters to give material support, like food, laundry soap, postage stamps, and so on;
3. to expand our cottage industry for which donors give cash;
4. to consider asking some regular donors to make their checks out to a
   utility bill instead of to our house;
5. to produce more food from our garden (Peter Maurin loves this one); 6) to stay away from banks as much as possible.

The only problem we have from time to time is that the IRS and colleges, to which our children go, cannot believe that American families can live on less than $50,000 a year. They think we are starving someone to death or going around in loin clothes. (As a prudish Irish Catholic, I take exception to the latter suggestion.)

Many people suggested we talk to an accountant, some suggested that we steer clear of accountants, lawyers, and the IRS. Some told us terrific stories of how they have created unique arrangements and even gotten their cities and courts to create special categories to fit us into.

One thing is clear, I told the IRS and the bank and I will tell all or our readers, not a penny of money that comes to us is being misused (unless you count an occasional trip to the movies as extravagant). None of my concern has anything to do with hiding income for personal use. It has to do with identity, simplicity, non-bureaucracy, anarchism, personalism, and respect for the privacy of our guests.

I will continue to read the posts from other houses and want to thank everyone for your input. We’ll let people know how it turns out.

A BENEFIT CONCERT

FOR SAINTS FRANCIS & THERESE CATHOLIC WORKER HOUSE OF WORCESTER

SATURDAY, January 10, 2009, 7 TO 9:30PM

ST. ROSE OF LIMA CHURCH

RT20 NORTHBORO, MA

FEATURING MUSIC BY

KEN STANLEY & FRAN REAGAN

AND

A TALK BY MEMBERS & FRIENDS OF THE CATHOLIC WORKER COMMUNITY OF WORCESTER

CONCERNING THEIR RECENT ARREST & TRIAL

For praying for an end of the war in Iraq

ADMISSION: FREE WILL OFFERING TO CONTINUE THEIR WORK FOR PEACE, JUSTICE AND SERVICE TO THE POOR.

CONTACT KEN @ 978-355-4445 – A WATER OF LIFE PRODUCTION

Held at the SS. Francis & Therese Catholic Worker, 52 Mason St, Worcester, 7pm, October 29, 2008.

This is specifically for people who find themselves helping this segment of the population. In my experience, a lot of shelters are thrown for a loop when it comes to trans people.

One of the facilitators says, “This is not Trans 101. This is intended for people who already have a basic understanding of who trans people might be, and who are already committed to everyone’s basic right to dignity. It’s kind of nuts and bolts (what do I do about bathrooms, bedrooms, incidents w/ other residents, etc).”

Here’s a detail from the photo of an SEIU march supporting janitors at the DCU Center:

Also pictured: Laura Suroviak, Catholic Worker Scott Schaeffer-Duffy, and an unidentified man.

Wormtown Taxi points out that the newspaper coverage was light on background details. I think it’s a scandal that neither Indymedia nor the SEIU nor anyone else in the local blogosphere documented this online.

It didn’t take long to imagine the difficulties Nancy must have experienced over the years. Many men heap ridicule and direct violence on cross dressers. Women are often more accepting, but not necessarily comfortable with sharing a bedroom with them. Nancy would not go to a men’s shelter and wasn’t accepted at a woman’s shelter. Our friend, who brought Nancy to us, said there were a hundred such people in Worcester, but that most stayed with friends when they got in a jam. Nancy was new in town from San Francisco. Interestingly, she told us that she came to Worcester because it was more tolerant than San Francisco. (Imagine that.) She also told us of her early years with a dysfunctional family followed by multiple placements in foster care. When I wondered how we would handle her stay–I put her temporarily in the empty men’s room on arrival–Claire didn’t hesitate to say that it’s a hallmark of the Catholic Worker to shelter those who have nowhere else to turn. Of course she was right.

Nancy stayed several days until New Horizons, a part of AIDS Project Worcester, found her a safe haven. Their coordinator sent us a letter saying, “Whether or not you realize it, you have helped to save a life in our city!” Since Nancy’s departure, we’ve received numerous calls from people in jail who can only be paroled to a fixed address with a land-line telephone. Some of these inmates are convicted sex offenders. Like Nancy, most doors are closed to them. The same can be said for immigrants without documentation. Entire classes of needful people are being squeezed into the margins of our society where their suffering will not be apparent enough for most of us to notice.

Excerpted from The Catholic Radical, August/September 2008.

The article is mostly about the Saints Francis & Thérèse Catholic Worker. Nice quote from co-founder Scott Schaeffer-Duffy:

“People think of anarchy as irresponsibility–but it’s not. It’s about individual responsibility.”

The article also touches on the Mustard Seed Catholic Worker soup kitchen, helmed by Donna Domiziano:

Following Catholic Worker doctrine, the Mustard Seed doesn’t apply for grants or seek state or federal funds.

“Day-by-day donations, that’s how we do it,” Domiziano says. “We live the gospel and it works.”

The only factual error I find was that he misspelled Ken Hannaford-Ricardi’s name. The funny thing is, the T&G misspelled his name last week in an article about the “rosary arrest.” I can’t tell you how much I will enjoy teasing Ken about this :)

“Please send $1 in a secured envelope OR check or money order payable to:
The Catholic Worker Farm
c/o Jeannie Kirkhope
885 Orchard Run Rd.
Spencer, WV 25276″

Pie and Coffee article on Jean’s Catholic Worker farm

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