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The life, times, causes and friends of Rose.

Activist still chasing peace and justice

OAKLAND, Calif. - Rose Marciano was earning $8 a week, "bored silly, living in a terrible town," when she decided to risk $5 to buy a share in a proposed Catholic cooperative bookstore. She traveled into Boston to an apartment-house address - the proposed Pius XI Cooperative - clutching her $5.

She went in and looked up to the top of the stairs. "I saw a lovely young man, and I was done for, and so was he," she said recently.

It was 1939. Dan Lucey, the young man, was a mailman and a Catholic into co-ops, into changing the church art - bringing into churches beautiful contemporary art and, in Rose's words, "getting rid of the junk."

In 1941 they wed and moved West. In 1983 Dan died.

But in the intervening years, Dan and Rose Lucey built up a family of nine and a topnotch Catholic and ecumenical network through their San Ysidro bookstores in Canoga Park, San Fernando Valley, Torrance, Los Angeles and Oakland. They also networked through the Christian Family Movement, antiwar protests, human rights and civil rights marches, nonviolence education, intergenerational and interracial work and the national peace academy.

Her kitchen is festooned with mementos from around the world. To look over Rose Lucey's shoulder into her address book is to hook into the Lucey network.

"Terry Mead is an icon of the peace movement. She's 88 years old, still out demonstrating against anything to do with war and injustice. Dan and I met her, oh, it was during the Vietnain War," said Lucey, barely pausing for breath. "Dan and I were protesting each morning down at the Oakland naval base. On a feast day, Good Friday, we planned a march to the induction center.

"There we were when this trim, well-dressed woman ... just joined in the march. Terry Mead. Young people, the police, the authorities - they just can't believe this woman. They all look up to her.

"... You must know Pia Moriarty, teaches at Stanford. I just can't say enough about her. She is a protege of Dom Helder Camara, and she's invited into parishes and dioceses to work with them on understanding how nonviolent social change can come about."

Worth a story in their own right, said Lucey, are Paula and Quentin "Bud" Ogren lawyers. Bud worked all his life for a major law firm, retired and taught law at Loyola Marymount. Paula started law school at 60 and, once that was done, carried her shingle with her into public issues and poverty-group legal services. Bud was early into the battle against discrimination in housing. Jointly they taught law to prisoners. These days Bud is busy teaching singing and giving the residents at a senior citizensmen's home "all kinds of legal advice."

Pause a little though, and meet Rose, too. She serves on boards galore, including NCR's and Jubilee West's, an advocacy group; a member of numerous organizations; and a "matchmaker" of sorts: She and Dan always put issues and people together. Take the Peace Academy.

The Luceys were driving from the West Coast to Notre Dame for a meeting, their station wagon full of children. Their one goal en route: Colorado Springs.

They knew that the Air Force Academy had a magnificent chapel, and they wanted to see it. But it was the marching cadets who impressed Peter, then 12. "Boy," he said, "this is where I'd like to go."

As they drove on toward Notre Dame, Dan and Rose anguisbed over Peter's remark. "What a terrible thing," said Rose, "five military academies costing millions and billions of dollars, and no place in this country for young people to go and study how to build a world of peace.'

By the time they hit Notre Dame they had developed the National Peace Academy concept - a federally funfed academy for peace studies. At Notre Dame they urged 200 couples to return bome and lobby their representatives to push for a peace academy.

In the Reagan era, by attaching the proposal to a military appropriations bill, the idea was approved by Congress and the U.S. Institute of Peace came into being - its purposes foiled because Reagan appointed the board. The institute hasn't even begun to approach its potential, said Lucey, but the first step has been taken: It exists. "People are being taught conflict resolution in schools, and there are peace studies programs at colleges," she said. "The new generations have to take on the institute and shape it. It's there, and Pit's theirs."

In her 70s, Rose Lucey shows little sign of flagging, though she laments her memory isn't as good as it used to be. Get her started on her network, however, and one discovers that her memory isn't as bad as she thinks.

Dan and Rose's children are a network in themselves. Mary Elizabeth Fernandez was in the very first Peace Corps contingent. She was a near doctorate in anthropology, specializing, in women and agriculture, and does some work in Peru for the United Nations. Several years ago, her husband, Gus, with their daughter, was driving his truck to Peru to join Mary. Fernandez was stopped and asked to show his papers. When he produced his American passport he was assassinated on the spot.

Martha - who ran some of the Lucey bookstores - is married to Glenn Weathers; they have four daughters and live in North Carolina. Ann, married to James Ludwig, was assistant director of personnel management in the federal government and now has her own consulting firm. Christopher was in the Peace Corps in India, met anthropologist Vera and followed her back to Czechoslovakia, where they wed. They have two teenagers and live on 75 acres in Oregon.

Monica lives and works in Winston-Salem, N.C. John, whose skills ran from clown to travel agency work, died of AIDS in 1985 (Rose remains active in AIDS ministry). Peter, and his wife, Janet Gray Lucey, live in Los Angeles, have two children, and Peter runs his own computer company. Crista, married to Paul Arrighi, is a CPA in San Francisco. Meira, whom the Luceys adopted during the Korean War, is divorced, has a daughter and lives and works in KNConcord, MO9Calil'.

Dan Lucey, in time, became a postmaster. It was full-time job. So was the family, and so was his Catholic and ecumenicai networking. They were tireless, just like the people in Rose's address book. After Dan retired for a National Peace Academy

Weekends and evenings, they battled f or everything on their list.

Lucey's network

* The only Catholic Worker house just for homeless teens; Larry, and Veronica Purcell, The Catholic Worker House, 545 Cassia St., Redwood City, CA 94062. (415) 366-5374.

* Paula and Quentin "Bud" Ogren, 237 Del Mar Court, San Luis Obispo, CA 93401.

* Pia Moriarty, 431 Kipling, Palo Alto, CA 94301,

* Octavia Harris, 2669 67th Ave., Oakland, CA 94605.

* Sisters of Saint Joseph Pat Sears and Joana Bramble, c/o Jubilee West, 1485 Eighth St., Oakland, CA 94607. (510) 839-6776.

* Dominican Sister Patricia Bruno runs the educational component of the Northern California Community Loan Fund, the only one in the state making loans to both low-income housing development and community economic development programs.

Ten Catholic religious orders are among the investors (two have been borrowers - the Sisters of Mercy and the Sisters of Notre Dame - for a joint low-income housing development). Bruno's work typically expands into seminars and workshops on housing, socially responsible investment and community economic development (415) 285-3909.
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Title Annotation:Rose Marciano Lucey; includes related article; Networking
Author:Jones, Arthur
Publication:National Catholic Reporter
Article Type:Interview
Date:May 7, 1993
Words:1245
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