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.

There’s a 12-hour prayer vigil for Main South at King & Main in Worcester tonight, organized by The Woo.

I stopped by tonight and joined about 15 others in a little silent prayer, a little spoken prayer, a lot of conversation, and the occasional psalm. As a Catholic, when I think “12-hour prayer vigil” I think of rosaries, litanies, and the Divine Office. This group is coming from a different place, and it’s interesting watching them figure out how they want to use this time. I’ll be back for more in the morning.

I haven’t been around Worcester much this year, but people who have tell me the sign has been replaced once, and vandalized “six or seven times”, in recent months.

Here are three versions of the old IWW parody “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum.” The first is by the presumptive author, Harry “Big Rock Candy Mountain” McClintock, recorded in the late 1920s.

The other two are sung by Chris DuPuis and Mike Benedetti, backed by Stale Urine, and recorded in the late-2000s.

Related: There’s a great special about “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” lyricist Yip Harburg here.

Happy New Year!

Update: Here’s a quote from Bruce Sterling’s “year in review” discussion that seems relevant.

I’m a bohemian type, so I could scarcely be bothered to do anything “financially sound” in my entire adult life. Last year was the first year when I’ve felt genuinely sorry for responsible, well-to-do people. Suddenly they’ve got the precariousness of creatives, of the underclass, without that gleeful experience of decades spent living-it-up.

[...]

I even fret about the bankers. Seventeen percent of the US works in financial services. That’s a lot. I’ve got friends and relatives who work in those industries. I frankly enjoy tossing myself into turbulent parts of life, because I’m a dilettante who bores easily, but jeez, bankers are supposed to be the ultimate humorless brown-shoe crowd. They’re not supposed to wake up on a sleeping roll and scrounge breakfast.

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11f. FROM THE COMMITTEE ON PUBLIC HEALTH AND HUMAN SERVICES – Request City Manager update the City Council concerning the current incidence of panhandling in the City and efforts to address same.

You may recall the City’s previous push to curtail panhandling was an ugly failure.

Mark Daye made these signs, with slogans like “Homeless Sleeping–QUIET,” for his design school thesis.

Spacing Wire has lots more pix, and The Star has an article. (I lifted this photo from The Star.)

Puts me in mind of Worcester’s ill-fated anti-panhandling campaign. The response to that mostly involved modifying existing signage, rather than creating new signs.

I don’t hang out at the Mustard Seed, but it’s my impression that closing the Seed is not news; it’s something she does several times a year. I talked to a couple Mustard Seed habitues today, and confirmed this.

“She closes all the time. Why are you asking me about this?”

It’s on the front page of today’s paper.

“You’re [kidding] me!”

So why does this make the paper? The article describes a note left on the door:

I would advise you to open up the doors for the hungry people who come there soon. Thank You.
[...]
If you don’t, I’m going to the newspapers and see what else can be done about this.

Hmm.

Obscenities have been omitted from this article in respect for the fine work done six days a week at the Mustard Seed.

Tent city at St. Jude Catholic Church in Redmond, Washington:

St. Jude Catholic Church welcomed Tent City 4 to its Redmond location on February 10th. The city of Redmond, where a one bedroom apartment generally rents for $911 to $1188 a month, issued a permit, but then rescinded it, threatening to fine St. Jude up to $500.00 a day for occupying the space. The stay could end up costing the church more than $37,000, which it says it will pay with donations, not parish funds.

In March, I visited tent city and interviewed pastor David Rogerson and three residents of tent city.

Indymedia photo

Spanish archbishop shuts down parish with unorthodox priests:

The archbishop of Madrid has shut down a parish where priests said Mass in street clothes and handed out cookies as the holy communion, his office said Monday.

The parish of San Carlos Borromeo, in the working-class Vallecas district of Spain’s capital, was popular among poor people, former prisoners, recovering drug addicts and immigrants.

Parish of San Carlos Borromeo photo

Liturgical abuse bugs me, but there’s always so much going on in a situation like this, you never know the real story.

Update (by Mike B): This slideshow by the Tribune gives a nice overview of the “scrapping” trade. The accompanying article gets into some of the details.

New York Times:

Particularly among the homeless, the quiet college town of South Bend cemented its reputation for tolerance and hospitality a long time ago. For years, it has been the place to go from around the region for emergency shelter, free meals, and even shots of hope, some said, from myriad charities and service groups.