On this International Workers Day (May 1), here are some quotes by Dorothy Day. Today marks the 91st anniversary of the publication of the first issue of The Catholic Worker in 1933. Dorothy, her brother John, her daughter Tamar, and a few others distributed the first run of 2,500 papers in Union Square for a penny a copy and by the end of the year, circulation had grown to 100,000.
From this little paper sprouted houses of hospitality, soup kitchens, co-ops, and farms which have offered spiritual and corporal works of mercy.
Here is an excerpt from her editorial in that first issue of The Catholic Worker.
For those who are sitting on benches in the warm spring sunlight.
For those who are huddling in shelters trying to escape the rain.
For those who are walking the streets in the all but futile search for work.
For those who think that there is no hope for the future, no recognition of their plight, THE CATHOLIC WORKER is being edited. It is printed to call their attention to the fact that the Catholic Church has a social program.
It’s time there was a Catholic paper printed for the unemployed. The fundamental aim of most radical sheets is the conversion of its readers to radicalism and atheism.
Is it not possible to be radical without being atheistic?
Is it not possible to protest, to expose, to complain, to point out abuses and demand reforms without desiring the overthrow of religion?
In an attempt to popularize and make known the encyclicals of the popes and the program offered by the Church for the constructing of a social order, this news sheet was started.
…The price of the paper is one cent a copy, in order to place it within the reach of all. And for the unemployed it is distributed free to those who wish to read it. Next month someone may donate us an office, who knows? It is cheering to remember that Jesus Christ wandered this earth with no place to lay His head. The foxes have holes and the birds of the air their nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head. And when we consider our fly-by-night existence, our uncertainty, we remember (with pride at sharing the honor) that the disciples supped by the seashore and wandered through cornfields picking the ears from the stalks to make their frugal meals.