“True Story” highlighted the activities of a Catholic working-class family of five, headed by a fictionalized couple, Dorothy and Bill Day. Bill appeared only occasionally, since he was traveling from city to city to search for employment, and when he found work, could only return on weekends. The resilient Days sometimes sat down to a plain dinner of “boiled carrots, hot biscuits, honey, and tea.” The three children, Bill Jr., Jerry, and Teresa, absorbed their mother’s enthusiasm for the simple life. They learned by example “to economize—to recognize the value of money” and developed their “creative instinct” and “initiative” by making their own toys. When the eldest, Bill Jr., collected loads of driftwood, he proudly announced that using the wood for heating would “save on coal bills.” As cash-strapped Staten Island readers worried about how to pay the bills (this was the second year of the Depression), Day enthused about the bounty of the bay, beach, woods, and gardens. Such abundance, free for the taking, could feed poor islanders. Staten Island’s seasonal manna consisted of plentiful seafood and wild greens, such as dockweed, dandelion, and chicory. Even a child could gather lobster, blue shell crab, eels, and shrimp at low tide. Inexpensive activities such as bird watching and fishing enabled families to appreciate nature while releasing them from the grip of the acquisitive culture of nearby Manhattan. On one nature walk, the Days returned with “club moss to grow in the house,” gorgeous daylilies for transplanting, specimens for the children’s collections, and a perch for dinner. Indoors, a comforting cup of hot tea and “the latest books from the library” provided Mrs. Day with a few moments of relaxation. “Those who want the least” could become “the happiest in this world,” Day concluded.

The Day family’s simple-living ethic contained the seed of a radical critique of contemporary society. Its adoption would permit ordinary folks to undermine the profit-seeking capitalist economy by cutting needless consumption (and debt) and by promoting self-reliance. Even modest household changes could amount to a first step toward a nonviolent revolution. Much later, Day would endorse the “little way” of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, which emphasizes the spiritual importance of even our smallest activities. But Day was already concerned with the larger social implications of seemingly trivial routines when she wrote the “True Story” columns. Her abiding concern for social justice shone through the comforting domestic vignettes. In her first column, Day skewered Manhattan landlords for gouging poor tenants by dividing up apartments and raising rents. In later installments, she aimed her criticism at the capitalist system itself and the consumer habits that enabled it.

To illustrate her critique of bourgeois society, Day wrote about Lefty, who later appeared in her autobiographies as either Lefty or Smiddy. In one “True Story” column, she described him as “an admirable character” who “lives from day to day and insists on his freedom of body and soul.” Lefty believed that money was the root of evil and a source of oppression. By sheltering himself in a tiny beach shack, adopting a diet rich in seafood, and occasionally selling his catch for petty cash, he satisfied all his needs. Free from middle-class expectations, he “firmly” announced, “I am happy as I am.” His creative spirit enabled him to transform the seafood varieties scorned by others into delicious dinners. When Day called skate “repulsive looking,” he shared with her his recipe for it, which she printed for her readers. Despite his limited means, he could always offer the welcome hospitality of a big cup of coffee accompanied by “a thick slice of buttered toast.” Dorothy shared with Lefty a lengthy passage from The Varieties of Religious Experience in which William James celebrates “the strenuous life.” James thought one should choose poverty over acquisitiveness as the courageous path toward self-liberation: an “unbribed soul” was essential for “the spiritual reform which our time stands most in need of.” Day reports that Lefty heartily agreed. She touted Lefty’s simple living as a survival strategy and a path toward lofty spiritual heights. And still ignorant of modern Catholic social teaching, Day relied on James’s theories and Lefty’s lived example to confirm her long-held belief in the core teaching of the Gospel: a profound and inclusive love of neighbor.

Surrounded by poverty in Chicago and New York as a child and young adult, Day had already grasped the radical implications of Jesus’ teaching. The individualistic pursuit of gain, blessed by some prosperous Christians as a sign of God’s favor, misrepresented Jesus’ message by neglecting the needs of others. Her stories implied that by adopting a simple life, Staten Islanders could not only survive the economic downturn, but could do so without sacrificing authentic Christian values.