Father Patrick R. Dunigan

              Figure


Father Patrick R. Dunigan




FATHER PATRICK R. DUNIGAN



W
E ARE glad to present the Reverend Father Patrick R. Dunigan, Pastor of the Church of the Immaculate Conception of Lapeer, Michigan, for lectures on Lyceum courses and at the Chautauquas.




On the following pages we give some information about the man and what he has done by using parts of articles copied from magazines and newspapers.  These inform you of his standing and of his right to a place on your lecture program.  He will speak on the decline of religious bigotry—a subject of great interest to Chautauquans—for the Chautauqua movement itself has had great influence in bringing about a better feeling among the various religious denominations.  From the Chautauqua platform in one season the messages of Protestant, Catholic and Jew have been given.




The following editorial, which appeared recently in the Cincinnati 
Times-Star
, will be of interest:




A PRIEST WHO IS MAYOR



An instance of this kind is so rare that it is well worth looking into.




We find Father Patrick Dunigan, a Catholic priest elected Mayor of Lapeer, Mich., a good sized city, by an overwhelming vote of Protestant people.  Father Dunigan is the only Catholic priest who is mayor of any town in America, and perhaps in the world.  he is executive of a town whose Catholic population is only three per cent. of the city's four thousand inhabitants.  Lapeer people say he was elected solely because of his personality and character, and as a tribute to his labors as a citizen for the common good of the community.




Religious differences sometimes cause a great deal of bitterness among mankind.  Small differences arise and sometimes the prejudice created lasts a lifetime.




The world is coming to a point where all religions are coming to look at the better side of the others, rather than at a few things which might be picked out as distasteful.




As we look to the goal of world's peace and the universal brotherhood of man, the religious side should be the first one settled.  The religions of the world's people have been a bone of contention in past centuries, but we seem to be coming toward a better understanding.  Let us hope that the world's example is set in America, where all worship in peace and harmony.





SUBJECTS:



The
 Decline of Religious Bigotry


Sympathy


Shakespeare and O. Henry


The
 Man in the Overalls






FATHER PATRICK R. DUNIGAN



An Article Appearing in The American Magazine, Accompanied by Full Page Portrait.




I
F YOU should ever visit Lapeer, Michigan, probably the first place you would be shown would be the home of Reverend Father Dunigan, located on a hill overlooking the city and nestling beside the church.  This for two reasons, first because the occupant is one of the most hospitable men that ever drove the skeleton from a feast, and second, because he is Lapeer's foremost citizen; her Big Man.




Father Patrick R. Dunigan is the only Catholic priest mayor in America, perhaps in the world.  He is the executive of a city that is overwhelmingly Protestant, whose Catholic population is but three per cent. of the town's four thousand inhabitants.  He was elected over the most efficient official the city had ever had in its history.  Of the 721 votes cast at the election, only 31 were Catholic.  His election was due solely to the personality and character of the man; to his labors as a citizen for the common good of the community.




Father Dunigan stands six feet tall, weighs around two hundred pounds, and has the appearance and activity of an athlete.  He has clear, blue, Irish eyes; a broad, generous kindly mouth; and a substantial jaw.  He reads, exercises, and thinks much.  He is an ardent lover of the out-of-doors.  The walls of his study reflect his attitude, and big, virile canvases, Remingtons and seascapes that show stress and action, adorn the room.  He spends much of his time on the open road, walking, riding and motoring.  His parish embraces a country about forty miles square, and among the towns in it are Davison, Imlay City, Metamora, Oxford, Otter Lake, Columbiaville, Hadley, Elba, Attica and Lapeer.  He alternates between his churches in these places, attending as many on a Sunday as the weather and the roads will permit.  Through mud and snow and rain he shuttles back and forth across his kingdom, visiting the sick and burying the dead.  There are marriages and christenings; disputes to settle, advice to give—admonitions, and praise, sometimes.




The position of Father Dunigan occupies in the regard of the people of Lapeer is best illustrated in the reply of a local character to a stranger who inquired who the mayor of the city was.  
Why,
 he responded gravely to the inquiry, 
he's the best guy in the world.
  His popularity is substantial, and is not confined to any class of men.  During the campaign for the mayoralty, Father Dunigan took no interest in the fight.  He was vitally interested in the good roads movement, whose fate was to be decided in the same election as his own, and spent the entire time of the campaign among the farmers, working in behalf of the good roads proposition.




His people have given him the title 
Believer in Men,
 and it is an apt one.  He is often heard to say, 
Treat the other fellow as if he had a soul; he has, you know.
  He is as often seen in a quiet business suit as in a Roman collar.  
The collar sometimes scares 'em off,
 he explains.  You are as apt to see him in a foundry as in his home; in the railroads yards as on the street; in the factory or in the country roads as in his church; meeting men, talking to them and understanding them; encouraging, advising and helping them in their ambitions or troubles.  The winter last year was a very severe one in this locality.  Yet Father Dunigan was on the lonely frozen roads, visiting the sick, assisting the needy, for twenty-six of the thirty-one long nights during the month of January.  He takes no thought of his own personal comfort; his concern is only for his people, and every soul that resides within the boundaries of his parish is one of his people.  Protestant or Catholic, Christian or atheist, all are human, and this man loves humanity in the true sense of the word.




He approaches the problems of life from an original angle.  He believes that all men are good, though a few may be mistaken.  He does not regard humanity as a mass, but as a struggling, sinning collection of aspiring, weak human beings.  He tackles each of life's puzzles individually and straightforwardly.  I met him one night after he had driven sixteen miles in a roaring blizzard.  He had stopped in the lobby of a local hotel to warm himself when a man under the influence of liquor began to curse heavily, in an effort to shock the Father, I thought.  Finally he walked up to the inebriate and, looking him straight in the eye, remarked calmly, 
My friend, you are a piker at profanity.  I have heard you repeat several times.
  The fellow's jaw dropped, and his face flushed a deep red.  
I beg your pardon, Father,
 he said, 
I am a piker.
  I asked Father Dunigan why he did not reprimand him for drinking, and he answered, 
He would not realize what I said to him to-night.  To-morrow he won't need any advice.




Father Dunigan is the founder of the present Commercial Club of the city; is chairman of its executive committee, and perhaps its most active worker.  No man in the history of Lapeer has been more interested in its advancement, commercially, socially and religiously, or has expended more time, labor, energy and money to accomplish this endeavor, than he.  His unflagging interest in his town and his people has endeared him to all.  He is the first citizen of his city.




He is the type of man you meet but seldom in a lifetime, and the meeting leaves you with a cherished memory, with a better, cleaner view toward life and the world, and with a vivid conception of the worth of fighting a clean battle and of doing your best.  A talk with Father Dunigan reminds you that romance and chivalry are not dead, that to have faith in yourself you must first have faith in your fellow men.  He believes in the right; he lives cleanly and courageously; he has the right perspective.  Daily he is performing a great work, that of reconstructing the shattered ideals of men, destroyed by circumstance or misfortune.  His people have given him the title, 
Believer in Men.
  It is an apt one.—
ARTHUR H. KUDNER.







FATHER PATRICK R. DUNIGAN


Part of an Article that Appeared Recently in the Detroit News Tribune




F
ATHER DUNIGAN likes to talk to folks.  He is a famous 
visitor.




He sits contentedly, when time permits, by the side of life's road and without pose or pretense is a friend to those that pass.




Today, it may be one of the great ones of the earth who tarries to expound his own philosophy—and tells his troubles.




Tomorrow it may be the fellow who is digging in the sewer.




And the latter talks things out as fully and as freely as that other who is climbing the crest.




Father Dunigan likes them both and sympathizes with them both and helps them both.




But he doesn't confine good works to talking.




If there is a person taken sick in Lapeer who thinks he is alone and friendless and penniless, he soon discovers his mistake.




For Father Dunigan is pretty sure to show up about the second day—as soon as the doctors, who are in league with him, report.




He sits down by the bed and begins 
visiting.




The sick person is not asked whether he is Catholic or Protestant.  He may not believe in God; it's possible that he is an anarchist.




And quite often he drinks too much for his own good.




Which doesn't make any difference.




After a good, comfortable talk. Father Dunigan goes away.  Then there comes coal for the stove or quilts for the bed, or groceries for the empty larder; whatever is needed the worst.




Lapeer stores have running accounts with Father Dunigan that very few people know about.




Because he doesn't tell those things.  But his friends do.




He likes to study 
the animal in the raw
—mankind as it really is.  Mankind, smug, prosperous, with a white collar on and a pew in church, isn't in the raw.  But mankind sinning, fighting, playing, working, is.




That's why Mayor Dunigan is chaplain of the Second infantry, Michigan national guard.  He is studying the young chaps, getting a grip on the young fellows growing up, learning about his temptations and his aspirations.




So, when the young fellow—not Protestant or Catholic, or Jew or Gentile, but just the boy—gets into trouble, Father Dunigan knows how to set about it to get him out.




That's why he doesn't wear a Roman collar all the time.




It scares 'em off,
 he says simply.




That's why he likes to work with his hands at anything that needs to be done.  He worked three weeks in a garage last winter overhauling his machine.  He worked side by side with men, just ordinary men, who do that sort of thing for a living.  And they learned he was a man, too, as well as a priest.




Furthermore, he showed he was a good, thorough workman who joyed in doing for himself with his hands.  So election day the garage gang, nine strong, marched down to the polls and voted for the priest, who also was a man and a pretty good machinist.  Father Dunigan's fine tact undoubtedly helped make him mayor.




The average Catholic feels uncomfortable at a public function when prayer is offered.  Usually it is offered by a Protestant minister.  The Catholic doesn't feel like bowing his head, too.  It seems like a sort of surrender of principles.




So he usually stands defiantly erect, with a sort of religious chip on his shoulder, and keeps his eyes on the ceiling until the prayer is over.  Not so, Father Dunigan.  He bows his head reverently during the invocation.  And then, calm and unashamed, in sight of all men, he makes the sign of the cross.




That sets everybody right.  His attitude says:  
We worship the same God, why can't we pray to Him together?  A prayer, no matter who makes it, should be respected.  I respect your prayer.  And know you respect mine, which always ends with the sign of the cross.
  That's all there is to it.  It is unerringly the right thing to do, and they like him for doing it.




He is mayor of Lapeer because he is a big man and has a sense of humor.  His dry Irish wit sparkles delightfully.  He likes a good—clean—story, and can tell one well.  Because he is a big man, other big men are attracted to him.  And his hospitality is perfection.




In Father Dunigan's home one doesn't know he is being entertained.  The host isn't making any effort; and his guests don't have to make any effort.  One knows that he may eat and drink of the best, enjoy the conversation, and be glad he is there.




Governors, United States senators, congressmen, state officials, newspaper men, priests and ministers—the haughty and the humble, the rich and the poor—all these have crossed the threshold of the Lapeer rectory and have been proud of the opportunity to make one of the circle within.  No personage can get into Lapeer and out again without calling on Father Dunigan.  The tide always carries him to that friendly door.




Those are some of the things which have made a priest the mayor of Lapeer.  Now let us see what the priest intends to do.




At the first council meeting he pleaded for harmony.  He said in substance to the aldermen:  
We're all friends together, chosen to run the city for a year.  We all want to do the best we can for our home town.  We're all honest.  So we'll get along.
  And, of course they will.  Father Dunigan has a way of getting along with people.




The first problem which faces the council is that of the saloon.  Lapeer county is wet again, after having been dry two years.  Formerly Lapeer city had nine saloons.




Said Father Dunigan:  
That's too many.  The competition is too great.  The saloon men may have to violate the law to make a living.




I suggest that we have three saloons only—one bar in each hotel.




The council thought it over and remarked that five was about the right number, the three hotels and two others.




That's a reduction of nearly half,
 said the mayor; 
I agree.
  And so Lapeer will have five saloons instead of nine.




He likes to camp and to hunt and to fish.  He likes the wild places.  Some day, he says with sparkling eyes, he is going to make the 
big trip
—a 5,000-mile canoe journey down the Yukon.




Above and beyond all, he is a priest of the Holy Roman Catholic church, unassuming, devout, sincere, clean.






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