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6 • CHAPTER 1 January
PONDERING THE PADDLE
It is probably safe to say that any time a school is charged with the education and residential care of close to 600 boys between 14 and 18 years of age, it will be necessary to use various modalities to keep order. At Campion in the 1960's, in addition to "jug" and later, demerits, there existed the paddle, which functioned as the correction of last resort (short of being sent home) for persistently misguided or willful individuals.
It is important to stress that the paddle was a correction of last resort. When I was a student, one had to acquire 15 demerits or jugs to be considered a candidate for its use, and along the way, Jesuit prefects and lay staff were only too willing to counsel the rare (yeah, right) student about deviations in behavior and to suggest ways to improve one's deportment. The paddle was predominantly a Lucey Hall phenomenon. Junior division students (i.e., freshmen) followed such a strict schedule and were so closely monitored that, in my opinion, one had to go out of one's way to get into trouble. If the paddle was used among frosh, it must have been done discretely in the bowels of Marquette or Campion Halls (I suspect that it was hardly used at all). As for seniors, they were so far out the door and their regulations so less restrictive that the paddle was probably not an option to effect behavioral change. I do not recall any senior (1969 - 1970) at risk for its use. Nonetheless, the paddle was there and figured prominently in the Campion experience, as depicted in "The Campion Game", the front cover of the Campionette of February 22, 1969 . One couldn't avoid knowing of its existence; a waiver allowing its use was sent home during the summer months for parental signature (ironically, along with the application for "smoking pers", permits carried by sophomores allowing them to smoke and to be produced upon request by the faculty; juniors and seniors could smoke ad nauseam without permission).
Coinciding with its grading periods and release of report cards, Campion produced "testimonials of conduct". I can recall the jug/demerit list (demerits replaced jugs in September 1967), usually written on bright yellow paper, being placed weekly – sometimes twice weekly, on the bulletin boards of Loyola, Lucey and Xavier Halls. Students even received demerits for not reading the bulletin boards or for not being aware of posted information. I can't recall the myriad of transgressions that occurred, but as examples of punishment, I remember that small infractions such as talking after lights out, not being at one's desk at the start of strict study, not making one's bed, failure to send one's laundry out (this probably should have been punished more severely, in my opinion) resulted in one demerit. I vaguely recall that larger infractions were, in fact, rare: off campus daytime without permission 3 - 5 demerits, lying (e.g., caught in a lie) 3 demerits, off campus nighttime without permission (ah, that late night hamburger at Ma's!) 8 - 10 demerits, possessing an Allan wrench to fully open the bedroom windows in Lucey Hall 5 demerits (students used to set sodas and food on the outside window sill in order to keep them cold). The largest sanction reported on a demerit list that I recall was given to a student who lowered himself out of a fourth floor Lucey Hall window by way of a large rope and who tapped on the windows of the rooms below, terrifying the occupants - 10 demerits. You can't make this stuff up.
As an aside, one thing that simply was not tolerated at all at Campion during this time was stealing, an infraction that as I recall, superceded almost everything else. If caught stealing, one was almost certainly in for some heavy sanctions as well as being at risk for suspension or dismissal. As a result, there was very, very little reported theft. Besides, administrative action via Campion's informal organizational structure would have been very likely - i.e., the offender would probably get the cr-- beaten out of him by other students.
I had the pleasure of inspecting the paddle only once, in the office of James V. O'Connor, S.J., Dean of Lucey Hall (affectionately known as JVOC, pronounced 'jay vock"). Fr. O'Connor, as I reflect back, truly had an enormous job at Campion among his other duties: management of a dormitory holding close to 300 adolescent boys. He really was a nice guy, very approachable and supportive of the academic and athletic dreams of all of us. For me personally, he always wanted me to box - I suspect that he secretly wanted to establish a boxing team at Campion. At the same time, he could be the embodiment of "tough love". Do the deal with JVOC, and he was your best friend and supporter; cross JVOC, and you were toast. The paddle was dark brown and somewhat small, I'd estimate between 18 and 20 inches in length and 1/2 inch in thickness. I did not get to know the paddle or its users more intimately.
For those students unfortunate enough to find themselves with 15 or more demerits on the day ending the discipline marking period (usually twice a year), the following scenario ensued. Around 6 pm, a notice was posted on the bulletin boards of Lucey Hall (again, usually on bright yellow paper) that contained the names of offenders and that began with the header:
"Will the following students please report to the Dean's Office upon being buzzed 15 minutes after lights out. Please wear one pair of pajamas."
The number of names on the list, I'd estimate, would be between 8 and 12. For Lucey Hall residents, the students were taken to the laundry room in the basement where they received their punishment, reportedly 15 applications of the paddle. During my sophomore year, I roomed in Lucey 413, in the bed by the door and two doors away from the stairwell leading to the laundry room. I'm going to leave it at that. The next morning, on the way to the lavatory and up and down the corridor, one could hear students quietly singing "Purple Haze" (Jimi Hendrix's recently released song) to themselves on more than one occasion.
I really can't say if the paddle worked to improve student behavior at Campion. I guess it indirectly helped, in that knowledge of its existence served to motivate students' cooperation with the rules. However, most demerits or jugs were given for benign infractions that, if one was not aware, could slowly and insidiously add up over time. The worst sequence of events was that of the otherwise good Campion student that didn't pay attention to his demerit history and (surprise, surprise) at the end of the discipline marking period, found himself with 15 or more demerits for string of minor, even miniscule, offenses. Such was the case of a classmate of mine who will remain nameless out of respect for privacy and, only when it was too late, discovered his name recorded among those of other students who were requested to report to the Dean's Office.
A contributing factor was a persistent misunderstanding between the floor prefects and my friend as to what constituted a "made bed". As a result, he repeatedly received demerits for an unmade bed, sometimes as regularly as two or three weeks in a row and as frequently as two per week, in addition to the inevitable accrual of demerits that occurred as part of daily Campion life. This put him over the top with 15 demerits at the end of the marking period. As always, the names of students receiving demerits were posted, so it was pretty safe to say they he was not scrutinizing the weekly list. And as for the bed (and I'm no Martha Stewart), the thing was made; all that was needed was to simply align the bedspread edges along the floor and to remove some wrinkles. I truly felt sorry for him.
During room rec (8:30 to 9:00 pm) that night, this individual was visited by numerous colleagues who offered messages of shock and surprise at his predicament, condolences, and advice on how to cope. One scholastic simply stuck his head in the door and quietly smiled. Subsequently, some strategic process must have been going on because between free time (9:00 to 10:30 pm), he was closeted with at least one or two scholastics. The bottom line result was that, incredibly, he was excused from punishment. One could only think he had just received a Papal Bull from Rome. Subsequently, it was learned that the total number of demerits that he had received during the marking period was readjusted to 14 because one demerit was obtained outside of the dates of the period in question. God only knows how this episode subsequently played with the fellows who had to make the walk down to the laundry room that night.
One thing was certain. For the rest of his time in Lucey Hall, this Campion student's bed was pristine.
Keith Leighty ’70 informs us that in 66-67, a number of freshman were paddled en masse by Fr. Aspenleiter for "bowling" on the first floor of Marquette Hall, using their plastic drinking glasses as pins and a tennis ball. Created a huge noise. I don't recall this – it occurred on the first floor, I roomed on the second.
Pat Finneran ’53 is a published author. In his most recent book, The First
Kingdom File, Pat features Father Aspenleiter in a prominent role. This is quite an interesting read- -
-Muslims are attempting to rule the world.
I got mine at AMAZON.COM. I
think you will enjoy it….A
FRANCIS J. ASPENLEITER, S.J.
Homily at Mass of Christian Burial by Robert Brodzeller, S.J.
Gesu Church, Milwaukee, WI, March 1, 1988
The first reading from Wisdom states that "the souls of the just are in the hands of God, and no torment shall touch them. They are in peace." This passage has been used for centuries by the church in the Mass for Martyrs. When we think of martyrs, we might be tempted to think only of those of bygone times or modern martyrs like Martin Luther King, or Gandhi. But the blood of many martyrs is often spilled out in the gradual lifelong outpouring of service to others. Martyr means witness and there are many ways of witnessing to Christ.
The 42 years of his priesthood were spent in two places. For 22 years he taught at Campion High School, moderated the freshman dorm and program, and found time to write a history text book, Western Civilization.
"A” was a keen observer of students. In a short time he could pick out the lonely, the troublemakers, the leaders. He was a clear and demanding teacher. He loved sports, coaching freshman baseball and football, pacing back and forth on the field with his red baseball hat and ever-present cigarette.
"A" was a man of great generosity, a dynamo of energy who could work 16 hours a day whether it was teaching, coaching, or going to the rooms of the sick. For the last 18 years, Fr. "A" was chaplain of St. Francis Hospital in Jersey City where he was loved by patients, their families, and staff. Living in the hospital, he was called upon day and night to counsel, console and administer the sacraments to the many poor of Jersey City. Patients saw him as a loving and compassionate priest, a man of simple piety, someone ready to help them without worrying about the cost to himself. His bedside manner was reassuring, his prayers comforting, and his smile infectious.
Carl Bachle, ’48 reminisce:
If you think of Wor1d War II as ‘'The War'’, then you remember Burma-Shave, Jack Armstrong, Lend-Lease, the Green Hornet, and Packards. And you remember Pearl Harbor, and exactly where you were. You were here before nylons, radar, penicillin, Frank Sinatra, Mairzy Doats, White Christmas, and zoot suits. You also remember Bataan, and how you celebrated VE-Day and VJ-Day. You remember when drugs weren't problems, they were sold in drug stores. When grass was just for mowing, when coke was just a soft drink. When people got married, and then lived together. You were here before television, jet planes, the United Nations, vitamin pills, the Iron Curtain, and the Cold War. Before the G.I. Bill, the New Look, and pizza parlors. Even before Sputnik.
You remember when cigarettes were stylish, when closets were for clothes, not for coming out of. When nobody had ever heard of Viet Nam, or even Korea. When the Japanese were still Japs. You saw the arrival of home freezers, polio shots, power steering, DDT, ballpoint pens, dishwashers, electric blankets, freeways, the minimum wage, and the Beatles. You remember when time-sharing meant togetherness, not computers. When a chip was a piece of wood, hardware was a store to buy nails, and software wasn't even a word. When words were spoken or written, not processed. You even remember inkwells and spats and Sen-Sen.
You remember when Alaska and Hawaii were territories, not States. And you welcomed antibiotics, latex paint, FM radios, hula hoops, Dr. Spock, tailfins, microwaves, and VCR's.
But you have survived it all - Congratulations!
Recently I received a warning about the use of the above "POLITICALLY INCORRECT" term. Please note: we all need to be more sensitive in our choice of words. I have been informed that the Islamic terrorists who hate our guts, our religion, our freedom and our way of life in general and want to kill all of us for the greater glory of Allah - do not like to be called "Towel Heads" This is because the item they wear on their heads is not a towel but actually a small, folded sheet. Therefore, from this point forward you should only refer to them as "Little Sheet Heads."
______ Brendan Miles '56
CLASS REUNION - 1966
Aaron - - -After last year's fine reunion we had some real catastrophes in our lives. Luckily no one was killed but it could have happened. We lived across the lake from the reunion at the Altamonte Springs Hilton in Spring Valley and the night of June 15th, we had a fire that started over our bedroom. It was in the attic. Fortunately, I am a roamer and was up about 3am and saw the flames, and woke Marie. A neighbor was walking his dog and called the
Fire Department. Six trucks responded. It was on several Orlando television stations in the morning. I was interviewed in my pajamas, as the only clothes we saved were on our back.
I sold the house to the restoration company and closed on July 9th and never looked back. At our age to rebuild and take a year out of our lives was not worth it. We have a condo in Ormond Beach we own with our daughter and moved there while deciding what to do. As you are well aware and probably more so, we had three hurricanes. Never hit Ormond in 50 years but made up for it in 2004. All our walls had to be replaced and carpeting, etc. All ruined with water and mold. We went to New Jersey for two weeks to our daughter and son-in-law’s where we celebrated (just living) our 50th wedding anniversary.
Came back to Ormond Beach and stayed through the restoring of the walls, plastering, dry walls, etc. Finally had the carpeting laid the week before Thanksgiving.
Kept looking for a new home. Arguments about should we stay in a condo or buy a house. We bought a house on Highway 46 north of Heathrow, a development called Lake Forest, and moved in in late February and still trying to get settled. It’s a four bedroom house, with one for an office but about 1000 square feet smaller than Spring Valley where we lived for 17 years. (total of 35 years in Florida since 1970.) As in all our lives someone else has it worse, but you have to live through yours. All this is to tell you we won't be at the Sarasota reunion but look forward to 2006 if we are still alive and kicking. Hope you all have great time.
Bill and Marie Fitzgerald ‘45
844 Wetstone Place
Sanford, Fl. 32771-7144
This from Don Lochner ‘39:
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7, 1939
7:00 A.M. — GRADUATION MASS
The Reverend J. C. Friedl, S.J., ’16................................................................. Celebrant
7:45 A. M.-BREAKAST FOR GRADUATES...................................................... College Inn
Induction of 1939 Graduates into the Campion Club
9:15 A. M. - COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES
"Prince and Jester"....................................................................... 0. Taylor
CAMPION CONCERT BAND
"Czardas"................................................................................ F. Haesche
Mr. John C. Meganck
KILMER’S IDEAL IN CATHOLIC YOUTH.............................................................................. Clarence M. Wagener
KILMER: THE EXECUTOR OF IDEALS........................................................................................... Palmer L. Conran
AWARDING OF DIPLOMAS AND MEDALS
Campion Selection.................................................................................................................. arr. by John C. Meganck
CAMPION CONCERT BAND
FINAL PROCESSION OF GRADUATES
Sing the song of Campion High School
Every loyal son!
Her fair motherhood acknowledge
Bless the name of Campion.
Who can forget her
Hills and woods and rivers dear?
What friends are better
Than the friends she gave us here?
Who can forget her (etc.)
The Knights of Campion — four hundred strong,
And all are hearty lads and glad to sing our song.
A Knight is a champion in every way;
Like the men in days of old they’re knights today.
Let’s cheer for Campion — cheer loud and strong;
Tell all her loyal sons to pass it along.
So on down the ages fight for her fame;
Fight and bring more glory to her wondrous name.
Another Train Ride Story- - - author unknown
With a lurch the Zephyr got underway. Craning my neck at the window for a last look at the only world I knew, I wondered where I was headed. After all, I had only seen the place once, about three years ago, and in the middle of vacation at that.
“How in God’s name am I going to remember all those faces and names?” I thought “I guess there’s no going back now, unless I get off in some tank town along the way.
This was the first train other than a commuter or an L I had ever been on, so I scrutinized my round trip ticket with a degree of efficiency that J. Edgar Hoover could well have envied. $14.75 seemed like a lot of money.
“Tickets, please. Have your tickets ready.” (click, click, tear) “here’s your return stub, son.”
“LAGRANGE ROAD NEXT, LAGRANGE!”
“Say, do you play poker?”
“What school did you go to?”
“…..you wouldn’t believe this nun we had. My God….”
“I wonder what it’s going to be like.”
“How big are the rooms?”
“AURORA NEXT, AURORA.”
“Jesus, look at that all that space with no buildings on it!”
“Hi! My name’s Mzglp Grdmfh.”
“Oh, yeah, hi!”
“How long do we have to wait in this goofy station, anyhow?”
“Do you think we’ll like it?”
“I wonder what the upper classmen are like.”
“How’s the food?”
“Anyone else from your school here?”
“Say, can I see that comic book when you’re through with it?”
“Oh, oh — Say, Dan, what’s the zip code at home?”
“NEXT STOP, SAVANNA!”
“God, how much longer is this going to take?”
“ Did you hear the one about…..?”
“Say, what book are you reading?”
“EAST DUBUQUE NEXT, EAST DUBUQUE!”
“Say, that’s the last stop before Prairie du Chien, isn’t it?”
“How far are we now?”
“Goddam, look at the river!”
The next sixty minutes was one of the longest hours I’ve ever known. Butterflies multiplied in my stomach almost at the speed of light. Everybody else was starting to tense up too. Four fifths of the way through the first door I had ever really opened myself, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d regret my decision. The door marked EXIT looked a million years away. “Well, I’m not the only one who’s worried — look at him!”
“PRAIRIE DU CHIEN CAMPION CROSSING NEXT STOP!”
“Hello there I’m Father Aspenleiter, and this is Mister Vacek. Don’t worry about your suitcase, the football team will get it The dining hall is over there, straight across campus. After you eat we’ll give you your room.”
Dad’s (Dress) Code
Since I was old enough to toddle, my Dad has been my hero. Tall, strong, good-looking enough for my teenage girlfriends to have crushes on, he’s been the leader, the guide, and the final authority in our family. Not that he’s perfect. For a long time, he embarrassed us kids on a regular basis.
If we took a date down to the basement rec-room and there was a period of prolonged silence, Dad would come to the top of the stairs, flip the light on and off and yell, “I don’t hear any ping-pong balls!”
Every time we took a shower, he’d bang on the door and shout, “There’s nothing you can’t get done in there in three minutes!” (There were five of us kids – the water bill was staggering.) His favorite phrase was “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”
My Dad has never spelled my name correctly; in the recovery room after my sister’s knee operation, he took hold of the WRONG ankle and gave it a “comforting” wiggle; he has consistently called one of my brothers-in-law Brad – his name is Greg. My Dad is a lawyer, which has been exceedingly cool, but he fancies himself also as a big, he-man lumberjack and “worker of the land”. As a result, he has been in the emergency room more than Marcus Welby, MD.
But, my Dad is also a good writer. When he learned last year that I was going to pursue a writing career, Dad’s eyes sparkled as eagerly as my own. He gives me great ideas. One day, he wrote me the following piece. Dad’s birthday is October 29, and for his special day, I think I couldn’t give him anything better than to see his words in print. Enjoy- - -
hen my wife and I go out in the evening, to a party, a movie, or dinner, I enjoy the company of a short vodka martini while I get ready. My wife thinks my sartorial acumen is dysfunctional, and has placed a sign in my dressing area, “Don’t Drink and Dress”. I pay little attention. Having reached almost fourscore in age, I consider most rules outmoded and certainly subject to interpretation. Further, I have my own dress code, which developed in the forties.
Proper dress for a man consists of a blue blazer, oxford-cloth button-down, silk rep tie and gray slacks with loafers. One wears this in Fall, Winter and Spring. In the Summer, a slight change is permitted: a seersucker jacket may be worn in very high temperatures. My generation mutually accepts such a view. We men who went through the Depression while very young, and then World War II, came home, got a job, got married, had kids – and we all dress up to go out on weekends. Most of us didn’t have much money at the start. But, for a date with girlfriend or wife, for a movie on Saturday night – cost: 85 cents each – we dressed up.
Some of us have done well. Some haven’t. Either way, if we get together for a reunion, or to reminisce about how much better things used to be, we look like gentlemen. Our wives, now also in their seventies, and still pretty, dress with flair and style and look wonderful.
Recently, some of our friends got together to celebrate someone’s birthday. We men in our blazers were handsome. Our ladies were stunning. Sadly, we were surrounded at the restaurant by the younger, ‘casual’ generation, whose idea of true style is to wear blue jeans and leave 2 or 3 buttons loose on their shirts. What’s wrong with them all? Can’t they see that dressing down and dumbing down seem to coincide?
The men of my generation are NOT Neanderthals! We were in the service. We were every race and every religion. We still are. We apply only this yardstick to friendship: is he a hard worker, does he take care of his family, is he responsible for himself – or does he feel “victimized, polarized, and ostracized”.
The younger smart set tends to chuckle at us as a closed-minded group, and it’s true, we have closed our minds to certain things. Pornography on TV, society’s unlimited forgiveness of serious felonies, and pervasive personal irresponsibility are among them.
To return to our dress code, probably the main feature of my wardrobe is its age. One blazer I remember buying in 1970 for a wedding. It still looks good, perhaps a tad shiny. And ties that narrow haven ‘t been cut for 20 years. Vest pocket white handkerchiefs are a must, and polished leather dress shoes. Perhaps the history of our clothes helps to keep us aware and involved in the history of our country – and we are ill-disposed to relinquish the worthwhile and traditional in either venue.
P & L STATEMENT
3/14/2000 Through 6/30/2005 (Cash Basis)
Interest Inc 722.06
TOTAL INCOME 66,446.73
Mail Service 974.93
Misc. Exp 2,311.33
Office Equip. 5,913.69
Office Supplies 5,884.77
Prof. Service. 605.00
TOTAL EXPENSES 54,319.56
OVERALL TOTAL 12,127.17
Our classmate, Bob Maxwell ’47 sends us
Another nice story on Father Larry Gillick. Thanks, Robert.
my struggles that illuminates my oftentimes hindered
view of life.” Conradson said.
We received Father Larry’s e-mail
address after our directory went to
press. Here tis: LGILLICK@CREIGHTON.EDU
Hugies • Campion • Forever !!!