Angels
House
© 2007 by Tony Hearn
Chapter Eight
In late May 1983 the announcement was made that The
Open Door would close on the final day of that month. We had used up the good
will that existed for using Saint David's Church. Members wanted to continue to
help the homeless, but not on the church property. Concerns were raised about
homeless men speaking with the small children who attended the day care program
in the building, and the time for Vacation Church School was coming in June.
The notice was starkly candid: "God bless you, but please leave!"
I was tiring of the staff meetings at Saint David's.
I was, after all, a Roman Catholic. I was not an Episcopalian though I had been
earlier in my life. In fact, I had been a professed member of the Order of the
Holy Cross, an Anglican monastic community founded by the Rev. James Otis
Sargent Huntington. But I had converted to the Catholic Church in 1962 after
being in the order for four and a half years, a very valuable time of spiritual
formation. There existed a certain tension between Episcopalians and Roman
Catholics, though great efforts were consistently made to accommodate this. But
could we really be trusted? There was always a healthy doubt. I attended Holy
Mass at Saint Nicholas' Chapel in the chancery of the Diocese of Austin. The
celebrant at this Mass was a former Episcopal priest, Father Joseph Frazer, a
Ph.D. in psychology and a former rector of the Episcopal parish in Bryan,
Texas. He, like me, had converted to Catholicism; he and his wife and their two
daughters. Pope John Paul II had created a provision whereby Episcopal priests
could be accepted into the Roman priesthood even if they were then married. If
and when their wives died, they had to embrace celibacy. Father Frazer was a
wonderful person. He and I became friends.
He called his "floating" parish Saint Margaret of Scotland. He
also became the headmaster of the parish school at the Catholic Cathedral of
Saint Mary's a couple of block north of Saint David's. He later became the
chaplain at Saint Michael's Academy in
southwest Austin. We had many refreshing and involved discussions involving
finer points of Catholic theology. I think the Rev. Jim Bethell became nervous
about my continued employment as director of homeless services at Saint
David's. I made the impending separation easy for him. I resigned, effective
the end of May.
Leaving behind a certain monthly paycheck caused me
trepidation. I had experienced monetary difficulty after leaving employment at
the daily newspaper in San Antonio. I did have obligations to my children. My
wife and I had separated in 1980 when I lived in Wimberley. I then left my
teaching post at Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos and took the
job as a copyeditor at the San Antonio daily newspaper. My wife filed for a
divorce in 1981. It was granted months later. Money had become dear to me, to make
child support payments for my three children. That's why I was reluctant to
give the older man the $20 bill in my wallet in front of the Casino Club.
So on June 1, 1983, I took a deep breath as I sailed
out into the sea of unemployment in a very frail bark. I had hope, though; holy
hope. Actually, I had little choice. I had saved up about $2,500, enough to
meet my obligations for a month and little more. I went to the shoe store. It
was time to retired my loyal tennis shoes. Frankly, they also had taken on an
odor of holiness and the heels were worn down dreadfully, causing my knees pain
as I was walking on the sides of the shoes. I bought a cheap new pair. I
decommissioned the pair that had served me, and the Lord, so well. I asked God
to bless the new shoes, my two new guardian footwear. The blessing took, for
when I put them on my feet, I could feel the energy soar up my shins. We, the
angels and I, set out to find Angels House all over again. "Please, Lord,
a proper place! We have no time to lose!"
I went to eat a breakfast taco at Las Manitas early
in the morning on June 2. I was looking for Cynthia Perez or her sister, Libby.
The girls were now my friends.
"Do you know of a neat place on the East Side I
can rent for a soup kitchen?" I asked them like I did in the previous
summer.
"Not really, but there is a rundown,
dilapidated taco hut on East 1st Street right across the Interstate!"
Cynthia mentioned. "But it is a ruin!"
I went to see the taco place! As I walked in front
of the building abutting the sidewalk, I saw a holy card with the Blessed
Virgin's picture propped behind a small sliding glass window in the middle of
the front wall. I stopped! I looked at
the image of the Virgen de Guadalupe. Then I heard her voice with my
interior ear. "Be it with me according to your will!" I froze! I swallowed! I had found the new
Angels House. Now, how could I find the owner? I began searching again, for
there was no sign for rent, lease, or sale.
I put new mileage on the tennis shoes. I had to find
the person who would grant me permission to use the building. "Where,
Lord, is the owner?" I spoke to the tennis shoes, "Go forth, my dear
sweet, loyal, faithful angels. Find the owner of the taco hut!"
I was looking in the window of the side door of the
taco hut the next day. No kidding! A car pulled to the curb and parked in front
of the hut. A very heavy, older Hispanic lady got out of the car and headed
toward me. She had a key in her hand.
"Can I help you?" the lady asked me. I
tried to appear nonchalant.
"Oh, I was just thinking I could use a building
like this!"
"As you can see, this place is falling
down!" she said.
"Yes, but I could use a building that's falling
down!"
The lady put down a box of dishes she was carrying
toward the door.
"Can I help you?" I asked her.
"I'm putting this in the restaurant!" she
said. She called the place a restaurant. She used the key and opened the door.
I took the box from her and asked if I could place it inside for her. I wanted
to gain access to the building, to size it up. She let me carry the box inside.
She brushed a large cobweb off her shoulder that had stuck to her dress as she
walked into the room. She turned toward me, "It's very dirty in
here," she said. I had to agree. She opened a small refrigerator. This
stuff is all junk now. I could see inside the frig. A dead mouse hung from a
shelf. "Awful," I muttered to the Lord.
"I'll give you $500 a month, as is," I
said to the woman. She looked at me as though I was a crazy person.
"As is!" she repeated to me. "Well, I
don't know! I'll have to ask my husband!"
"Please do!" I said. "I need the
place as soon as possible. I plan to turn it into a soup kitchen, much like it
was used before to feed people, but for free."
"Really?" she said.
"I spoke with the Virgen de Guadalupe on
the card in the window there!" I pointed to the little sliding glass
window and the propped up holy card.
"Oh, you know the blessed virgin?" she
asked.
"I'm Catholic," I said.
"Let me talk to my husband. We can probably work
something out!"
"Bless you and him!" I said. "Can I
have your phone number so I can learn your answer? I really believe I am
supposed to rent this place!"
"We'll see. I also have to speak to the Blessed
Mother!" she said.
We both brushed aside more cobwebs and left the
building. She drove off, and I walked back across the Interstate, heading for
Las Manitas, my tennis shoes doing double time.
Wearing the second pair of
special tennis shoes. They kept
my feet stepping lively when
new energy was required to set up
the new Angels House at 908
East 1st Street (now East Cesar Chavez).