Memoirs

From the Scarlet Knight

As Read in the Journal of The Scarlet Knight

Following a BloodLetting after a failed joust I Pen these words for All to Read

Third Month / Third Day / Third Year of my Quest

Individual Knights and entire cohorts are often drawn together for game, sport and challenge without a training regimen provided by the Guardians. Blood spills are limited and all blood spills acceptable only under honorable conduct. Any blood spilled with honor is blood spilled well and any loss of blood with honor is but a part of the Life of a Knight of the Land.

A Traditional Game often staged by 2 cohorts of Knights, cohort against cohort, on the "Quad" for All Knights to watch. In numbers and spirit, these Cohort Games laid claim for defining the Knights strength, honor and pledge to One Another. Lucius Mater, the gatehouse immediately adjacent to the Southern Quad and housing the Sophius and the Juvenus, provided both the most cohort and most visceral Games for All to watch during any year of study and training. Blood spills were indeed few while pain was appropriately administered and appropriately received - always with honor. A Knight is a Knight and all pain is felt equally between those Knights who administer and those Knights who receive.

The Game would begin when a boar's head, properly inflated, would be put into play by an individual Knight. The goal was to maintain sole possession of the boar's head for as long as possible while the "Mauling" persisted over a defined area of engagement. One Knight against All Knights. The goal of the "Maulers" was to gain individual possession of the boar's head and become the new "Maulee". An imperiled but highly coveted coup for any Knight. Pain was a Given in Maul Ball with Victory never to be fully gained.

The Knights would often alter the Game to give rise to Teams of "Maulers" whose Intent was to maintain possession of the boar's head for the Team. Members of each Team would protect their members possessing the boar's head and "Maul" members of the opposing Team seeking to possess same. This behavior gave rise to the Cohort Games of Mauling Balls, always an epic confrontation that would inspire the Knighthood to find the Best in each Cohort and the Best in Individual Knights.

Individual Knights in Groups as small as 3 would often engage in this Game of Mauling Balls on the Quad and other fields in the Homeland during periods of absence from study and training. Even in relief from the Guardians Oversight and removed from the Cohort Games where Individuals lose their standing and all Colors are blurred, Knights would seek out competition and validation amongst each other. Knight against Knight for the benefit of strengthening the Knighthood. A cohort of 3 learns well to bleed their share for a cohort of 100.

This Game of Challenge would be laid down in the Arena of Knights or the Place of Challenge for the Game to be sanctioned. Individual Knights would coalesce into 2 Teams on the "Court", either by choice or by selection, with one Team identifying themselves by wearing their individual Colors and the other Team identified by displaying their bare torsos during the Game. This Challenge would be between both Teams and Individuals with Honors going to those who rose above their opponent.

A large cowhide-covered bladder, properly inflated with Athenian Flubber that is willing and able to bounce on the Court, would be referred to as the Leather and placed into play. Those who gained the Leather within the confines of the Court needed to place and score the Leather within a Hoop set at a height well above the outstretched arm. Two Hoops at opposite ends were allowed per Court - one Hoop used to score and one Hoop needed to defend for each Team with the two Hoops being easily identifiable by both Teams. Those endowed with the gift of "notshort" did well. Those with keen eye, quickness, speed and consciousness of thought competed well against the "notshort" buffoons. When those of the "notshort" also displayed keen eye, quickness, speed and consciousness of thought they would often rule the Court. But winning the Game of Threads and Flesh was always in jeopardy, always in flux. The Game of Threads and Flesh was always about the Team and any Individual was only some of the Team. It was the Team that held sway. It was the Team that won the Honors and Individuals culled out their fair share. But in essence, this Game of Challenge was about realizing one's own strengths, seeing and believing in the strengths of fellow Knights and understanding the strength and camaraderie of the Knighthood during Challenge. This Game of Challenge was about individual Knights learning and understanding their role in the Knighthood and it was the Knighthood that always won the True Honors in Threads and Flesh.

In the Arena of Knights, near cleansing showers and the Inner Sanctum lies the Seclusa Aquarum, a large pool of water both shallow and deep that is heated by the warmth of the Earth burning at its core. The Knights would often seek out the warm waters of the Seclusa Aquarum in order to soothe the pain absorbed from training, conflict and grief that are a Constant in the Life of a Knight. Knights being Knights who are always in training would also use this healing pool to put forth the Challenge of Marco Polo. The Collection of Scrolls in the Homeland is lacking in the identity of Marco Polo but Stories abound that Marco Polo achieved greatness in a Boy Band out of Peoria.

The Challenge of Marco Polo would be given to an Individual Knight to seek out and capture other Knights in a defined area of the Seclusa Aquarum. A defined area as calculated and espoused by the Greatest of Greek Scholars of The Old World; Sacramento, Platypus and Aerosmith.

The Individual Knight chosen for the Challenge would forfeit sight by being blindfolded while still being able to hear and touch. Upon his challenge call of "Marco", other Knights were obliged to respond "Polo". Using echo location and the errant hubris of sighted Knights, the challenged Knight would seize and guide the Captured to the surface of the pool to win the Challenge. The Captured Knight would then face the Challenge of Marco Polo. The Game of Marco Polo would continue unabated until "Final Call" of the Seclusa Aquarum or until the Breath of Life being first adminstered.

Knight Games of Challenge are not Games - they are Strategic in thought and purpose for the Knighthood and for the Land. A Knight will not seek to intentionally inflict injury upon a Fellow Knight in Games of Team or Personal Challenge. This bodes well in Battle where a Knight will always place the Life of a Fellow Knight above His own. Knights Learn Well during Games of Challenge. The Knighthood thus flourishes and The Land thrives for All.

From the Scarlet Knight

Written in the Journal of The Scarlet Knight

Where, When, and How does a Campion Knight begin to speak of the pleasure and pain found in the Women of The Land and Beyond. These women sought out by Knights and accepting of the gallantry of Knights were of the Land, the Prairie and at a sheltered distance from the Land and the Homeland of the Knights. The gallantry of Knights for the Favors of Damsels. A deal well made in any Era, in any Age, in any World.

Juliette and Guinevere were but two women of the Land and Beyond known to I and most Knights. One raven-haired and the other of alabaster skin. Human traits yet to be clearly defined by science while their strength over Knights being clearly well-defined, clearly well-accepted and clearly well-appreciated. Juliette and Guinevere were both pleasing and complete in their lives with the Knighthood. Their strength, loyalty and commitment to the Knights of the Land never failed to be honorable and rewarding.

Juliette and Guinevere were sisters not of blood but of Purpose. They loved their lives as they loved All the World around them. They were sisters of one Heart that beat strongly and passionately for all to Hear and Feel. They loved the Knights and admired the Knighthood for empowering the Land for All to draw Strength and Life from the Land and Beyond. Juliette and Guinevere were always seen in the Flowers of Spring and they were always alive in the crisp early morning dew of the Autumn "Quad".

I first met the raven-haired Juliette on a cold day of jousting during the season before the celebration of the Beginning of Someone Else. I met her eyes with mine while attending to my wounds of body and spirit delivered by an adversary. Her eyes on mine were soothing and stirring to both my body and to my spirit. I felt more Alive than ever. The fever of Joust followed by the pulse of Life only a Woman of the Land and Beyond can provide. There is no Better for a Knight. Juliette was my first Love. A love born of sacrifice, trial by fire and the calming touch of the World as taught to me by Juliette. I will never forget Juliette and I will never forget to honor Juliette within my Lifetime forever being a Campion Knight of the Land.

Juliette was Lost to me in a raid at the Eastern edge of the Land by a rogue sect, the Barbarus, of the nomadic Tribe of Terra. The Barbarus were often sought out and killed with prejudice that was sanctioned by the Elders of their Tribe. Often the Barbarus would be hunted down by their own fathers and brothers and final justice administered without pause.

One Hundred Days after the raid at the Eastern edge of the Land that took Juliette and Others, the Barbarus existed no more. The Knights of Campion provided the final sword thrusts into the last of the Barbarus and I was there. The Barbarus ended on that Last Day. Only the name Barbarus is allowed to remain on Scrolls for All to remember their depravity so that All will never allow this depravity to live again. The Knighthood has sworn to be forever Vigilant and forever on Guard against All Evil since that Day of Reckoning.

After the loss of Juliette and Others on that Day, Guinevere became ever stronger and ever more passionate about her love for All the World. Her Heart beats even more strongly now since it is beating for Two. It appears that it is the Pain of Loss that forces one to begin to understand the Meaning of Life and to savor both Life's sweetness and Life's bitterness. This is indeed unfortunate since it is just lost Time and lost Living for All who are a part of Life. I would rather die by the Sword at a young age than realize how foolishly I've lived a long Life.

I have a joust in three days. I'll be wearing Guinevere's Favor.

From Dave Zamierowski '60

My recollection is that I met her in sophomore year - early, probably in the fall - on one of the trips our high school debate team made up along the Mississippi River to La Crosse, WI. McEvoy suggests it was Aquinas High School, a co-ed Catholic school there. The school and its parents were gracious and cordial and arranged a reception for all of us debaters at one of the parent's homes that afternoon. The activity planned was making (and eating) home-made cookies (chocolate chip is my recollection).

Anyway, that's where I met Sandy. Tall, lithe, long blond hair. We just hit it off. Not to mention we were both "-ski's." What a wonderful couple of hours. I couldn't believe how all the girls laughed at my jokes. My classmates didn't. You must remember, for those of you reading this who are outsiders, that Campion was an all-boys boarding school. We never got to interact with girls. I found that I really enjoyed that afternoon. But there were several consequences from that afternoon that played monumental roles in the rest of my time at Campion- perhaps even in my life.

The first is that Sandy and I agreed to write. What a difference between today's teenagers' instant, constant communication and life in the 1950's. I never talked to Sandy on the phone. In fact, I'm not sure there was even any public access to phones at our school at all. At least I never even called home a single time in my four years there (and it wasn't much different in college). The phone in the dorm prefect's office was for emergency use only. So, the only way to communicate was to write. We exchanged weekly letters for the next 3 years.

It is interesting how you can open up and bare your soul by writing. I'm sure kids do that today texting, e-mailing and of course with face-time, etc. But back then, one had to wait for your mail to be picked up, processed through the school mail stop (do I remember that as freshmen we started by turning in our letters in unsealed envelopes? So that our "grammar and format could be checked"), then the local post office, then shipped to La Crosse and the process reversed there. Turn-around time for us to respond to each other's letters was about a week. I remember how I would wait with anticipation for her letters at mail call.

We exchanged pictures of course (boy was she cute) and I kept hers on my desk all the next 3 years. That kept the other person more real. My letters to Sandy were the real me. I could write what was really going on. I found out quite quickly that my mother, despite her immense compassion and empathy, could not deal with any negative news or doubts. In retrospect, I don't think I ever realized then how difficult it must have been for her to let me leave home at 13. I was in that small percentage of students who, on my own, actually wanted and pleaded to go to Campion. She had trouble with even just news of struggle or challenges. So, my letters home were all about accomplishments and successes and good times. Meeting Sandy of course qualified, so my mother knew about our pen-pal relationship. You will see how this becomes important.

Sandy and I became what I felt was "close" through these weekly letters. I have described this at length because of what this relationship would come to mean to me at Campion.

Sophomore year, on the handball court behind the dorm was a line drawn at tennis-net height. One could practice tennis on the handball courts essentially all winter long and anytime you wanted. You didn't need a partner or one of the two full courts behind the gym. I remember practicing my stroke to the sounds of the Everly Brothers coming from the open dorm windows. Why does "Kathy's Clown" come to mind. It was sad and sobering this past week to read that one of the brothers died. Most of us at this reunion were 79 or so - except John Leatherman - he's just 77 or something. Actually, that explains a lot. But his career in public service seems to exemplify the culture that was bred into us those years by the bluffs of the Mississippi.

I got better at tennis - I made the varsity tennis team that spring - along with John Overbeck and John Hubbard from our class. There was a Jesuit sponsor for the team, scholastic or priest - different person each year I think. But my recollection is that I got most of my coaching from the other team members. Tordella and Valuilis were the top two on the team then. As I remember, I was the only sophomore to make the traveling team and that meant I got to go down to Dubuque to battle our big rival, Loras. At that time they had two brothers on the tennis team who were nationally ranked. They made quick work of poor Tordella and Valuilis. Further down the rankings, and I lived at the bottom, things evened out. I played my opponent for hours, each of us trying to break serve and win two games in a row to take the third set. I think I finally exhausted him. I wound up to be the one who prevented a sweep that day. It helps to have the writers for the Campionette as friends. Jim Benso was on the "ette" then, eventually becoming editor of our yearbook, The Knight. I think John Overbeck was on the "ette" also then, He eventually became its editor our senior year. Anyway, my win and prevention of a sweep at Loras got a write up in the Campionette.

We went to La Crosse for a match against Aquinas later that spring and Sandy had class conflicts but was able to get away for a short time and it was just great to see each other in person. As we all (re-)discovered during the recent Covid-induced distance communicating, nothing beats face-to-face. The trip was a boost to our letter writing. My recollection was that I won my match on that trip also. Undefeated. My budding tennis career at Campion was looking in fine shape.

A number of things then happened over the ensuing summer and next fall that added flies to my ointment. Momentous decisions actually. The first thing I realized was that I really liked that girl. In fact, I liked girls in general. So there went my "vocation." I realized that summer that I was not going to be a priest - a Jesuit. I made a decision to get serious about tennis. I needed to be sure I got to go back to La Crosse the following spring. At home in Grand Rapids, I signed up for the summer "all schools" city-wide Parks Tournament. "Undefeated at Campion, that should get me somewhere in the tournament," I thought.

How naïve ("innocent" is too kind a word). I had no friends that played serious tennis at home. I just signed up for the tournament by writing in and showed up at the time and place they gave me. I found myself in one of those Loras-type matches again where we struggled for 3 hours to get two games ahead in the third set. But this guy didn't tire. He seemed to have a big fan base around the court and seemed to get stronger and finally I succumbed.

Defeated! I didn't even last one game in this tournament. It took years before I understood what happened. The games were covered by the local Grand Rapids Press and I was interviewed after the game (essentially asking me where I had come from because I wasn't "on the list"). My mother told me the next day that my match was listed in the newspaper but I didn't even want to read it. Later she told me that I was listed as an unknown coming from a boarding school in Wisconsin and was not even "seeded" and I put one of the top seeds into the longest first round matches of the tournament. I didn't know what "seeded" meant. All I knew was that I didn't even last one round in the tournament.

So instead of meeting the tennis crowd in Grand Rapids and practicing for real that summer, I just discovered the joys of "tennis dating." Stay tuned for what that means later.

I arrived back at Campion that fall to find more flies in my ointment - even if I didn't realize it at the time. I was assigned to Marquette Hall. A couple of us juniors were offered the opportunity to move to the senior residence hall and get private rooms. Not enough seniors to fill the Hall. Maybe I was deemed "mature" enough to benefit from this privilege; but it turned out to be a mistake. I really craved social contact. I considered the study hall to be a competitive sport. If I had people around me, I tried to study harder than they did. With no one around me, I got distracted, daydreamed, got lonely and I think a little depressed. My grades suffered. And then I found out that the debate team was not going to La Crosse that fall. And then I found out that the tennis match with Aquinas in La Crosse was canceled for the spring. That was it! I quit tennis on the spot when I found out that the track team had a meet with Aquinas. I would get on the traveling track team. But what to do in track?

Our freshman year I actually did well in intramural track as a shot putter. Can you believe that? The reason (same for freshman intramural football) was that I did most of my growth spurt in the 8th grade and through freshman year, then stopped growing. Stay tuned - this will have tall impacts. So, it was now junior year, every one else had grown and I was not competitive at any field event really. But I liked to run and I thought I was good at it. I signed up for the mile ' it was our equivalent of "cross country" - the coach let everybody who wanted to run participate. So early spring, I set out to make the traveling team. We had the Cavataio brothers from Chicago. These guys were in a class by themselves so I was embarrassed to run with them. Did you know that both Tony, our classmate, and Mike his younger brother won awards our junior year in the annual school speech writing contest? Remarkable guys and well liked. But I needed help and instruction, so I turned to my good friend who was our star high jumper, John Voosen. All early spring John and I trained together. I would just watch him take his jumps and then we would sit there in the grass and do stretches. He taught me all kind of stretches and I felt really loose and stretched. Occasionally we would take a lap around the 440 yard track - God, that was far.

Those were great times, just John and me sitting in the grass talking about our goals and our dreams. He wound up going to Harvard and getting a degree in architecture. It is so tragic that he died (heart attack?) so young. I got really good at stretching. I can't remember with certainty - did we go to the smoker after the showers to continue the conversation? I never understood why I needed a shower though cause I never got sweaty.

The day of the first dual track meet arrived early in the spring. A small nearby school. I think every boy in that school that wasn't in some other event was put on the mile team. I don't think those farm boys got ready for this meet by stretching. They had 10 guys running the mile. We had the Cavataio brothers and me. John Voosen had finished his event already and loaned me his track shoes. I had never put any on before. They were so light - they make you feel light and springy with the spikes under the ball of your feet - not heavy clunkers like my tennis shoes. We lined up on the starting line, gun sounded and we were off.

Tony Cavataio was off like a shot, he lapped the field and finished over a full lap ahead of the rest of us. His brother, Mike, just half a lap behind. I was in the middle and then the back of the pack. Running felt good (I should have tried it before). As we started the last lap I felt like I had more in me. I looked at the person ahead of me and just ran till I passed him. Then the next person, then the next. I was passing people on their team. By the time we reached the final 220 yd mark, where our stands were, it was clear I was putting on a kick. I remember looking up at the stands seeing people screaming for "Zam" to go, to keep going. To pass everyone. What a boost that is for everyone to be screaming support for you. I looked ahead, only 3 people in front of me. I passed two and it was just one person ahead of me. I gained. And then I passed him with just a 100 yards to go and I looked and there was no one ahead of me; no one to chase. And then I realized that I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I "died" on the track with 100 yards to go. I could barely keep walking. And surely, one by one, all the people I had passed, passed me before I made it to the finish line to collapse in the arms of Tony Baldwin and Jim Benso. I think my time was something around the 6 minute mark.

We were a close trio - literally a "trio." We called ourselves the Squires." Jim played drums and Tony played guitar and they taught me popular music. I came from a classical piano and church organist background to Professor DeRanitz and his organ instruction. But Jim and Tony, as we practiced afternoon after afternoon, taught me 10-key interval pound for left hand base and to stride left hand and to "tinkle" with the right hand to Tony's lead on the guitar and finally to improvise on chord backgrounds. We played for some of the mixers at Campion. Again, it's good to know the writers in our class. Jim Benso was editor of our yearbook so there is even a picture of our "Trio" at one of the mixers in the book. Thanks to them, I played in the dance band at Holy Cross. I even played at dances in med school with a drummer/piano duo. I owe them so much. Except that attention on playing in our trio at the dances and mixers meant, as McEvoy explained to me this last weekend, I somehow never figured out that girls from La Crosse Aquinas were showing up at these events. I never understood that I could have at least asked Sandy if she had a way to get to Campion on the Aquinas bus for these dances.

I was so naïve. Dennis Nowicki and George Verheyen at the reunion were just amazed that I never went to Ma's, the hamburger and soda shop across the tracks and the road to "The Bluffs." "Surely," they said, "you stopped at Ma's on your trips to the bluffs." I was embarrassed to tell them that I only went to the bluffs once or twice. My afternoons were so busy with extra-curriculars, I don't remember actually having the time to go anywhere.

Speaking of Dennis, what a great job our "committee" did planning and executing this reunion. It was great just talking with Dennis and Jim Popjoy and Ed Walsh (why did our class have so many successful dentists?) and of course the ring leader, Burke MacDonald. Jim Connor was there, and Frank Krauser set the dress code for the cruise with his blue blazer and his tan. Vince Chiara got accolades for his humorous missives (how we love to write and correspond). Keith Grant and Tom Dickerson were there. Keith experienced what all of fear facing now, loss of our spouse. Great to get his perspective. I remember Tom as shorter than me in A class. But now, even with his back problems and need for a walker, he is head and shoulder taller. Have I missed anyone? A shout out to Bill Thiede for arranging for Fr. James Prehn, SJ, from Loyola to be there with us Saturday afternoon and say Mass for us. And thank you to all the spouses who were able to be there.

Anyway, 60 years ago, I didn't go back to La Crosse again. Needless to say, I did not make the traveling team for track. I don't think I ever ran again at Campion. I came across this note in the back of my '59 Knight from Tom Langerfeld (was he in Marquette Hall also?):

"Dave, It's been an experience all right. I'm glad to have lived with you for a year, even if I did lend you $1.08, woke you up all the time, offered you my soap, PICKED UP ALL YOUR LETTERS FROM SANDY (caps mine), etc. It has been an experience, and worth it....Tom"

Amen.

Our senior year, Sandy wrote and told me she was going to Michigan State. Wow! That's just 60 miles or so from my home in Grand Rapids. That's almost exactly the distance from Prairie du Chien to La Crosse. She was going to the campus in Lansing, MI, early, while I was still home in Grand Rapids before I left for Holy Cross. I needed the family car. I needed a navigator. I needed emotional support and a kind of validation of my good intentions. I asked my mother to go with me. Go on, say it. But that's what I did.

Sandy wrote and gave me the location of the building we were to meet in front of at noon. Standing alone, still with long blonde hair, looking around as if waiting for someone. It must be her. I walked up and said, "Sandy?" She turned and looked down at me and said, "David?" She might as well have said "Why haven't you grown?" 6 ft. 2 in. at least. Still gorgeous. Still nice. I invited her out for lunch with my mother and me and we had a nice conversation catching up. And then we said good-bye, never to write again.

There is a sequel to this saga. There were two tennis courts behind the dorm, Reed Hall, at Johns Hopkins Med in Baltimore. It was the start of my senior year and a lot of new people had just arrived and filled up the dorm and the court was crowded that afternoon. Two new young ladies were trying to get on the court so we did the gentlemanly thing and asked if they wanted to play doubles so we could all take the next available court. During the game, one of them kept trying to whack the ball down my throat, really trying to beat me. Didn't she know I was undefeated at Campion? But I found this challenging. And I found her fascinating. Three weeks later I asked her to marry me. Last March we celebrated our 53rd anniversary. See how that's all connected? Campion is where it all started.

Love all you guys.

Dave Zamierowski
Class of '60

From the Desk Of John Duskey '63

There are two books I'd like to bring to your attention in this article. One was published in 2000, and another was released just this year.

Out in the Blue was compiled by Campion Alumnus Tim Barger from letters between his parents during the years 1937-1940. It tells the story of the development of the Arabian-American Oil business, of how Saudi Arabia became a world power in the oil business. Tim's major source for all this was compiled from the letters Tim found between his parents during the crucial years of discovery. It is an excellent way to study history at a personal level.

Students of early American History will probably recall the published letters between John Adams and his wife.

Tim Barger lists his father, George, as the author, but the book wouldn't exist without the research Tim put into it.

Middle East Books has this to say: Compiled by Tim Barger, this collection of letters between his father and his mother provide a glimpse of Arabia before there was oil. The elder Barger worked as a junior geologist for Standard Oil in Arabia, and retired 32 years later as President and CEO of Aramco. These letters paint a fascinating portrait of life in mid-century Arabia; from desert nomads to King Abdul Aziz bin Saud; and of a way of life now almost completely obliterated.

Obviously Tim and his brother Mike '64 didn't happen along until years later. And Tim's work in compiling the story came years afterward.

Mike was active in Choir, Band, Sodality, Masquers, Campionette, and was one of the scholastic leaders of the class of 1964.

Chicago Hotels and Parents Clubs meetings

One of the most important markers for Campion's success was the regular meetings of Mother's Clubs and Father's Clubs. Regular meetings were held at places like Marshall Fields, the Drake Hotel, the Blackstone Hotel, and the Shoreland Hotel. Meetings were usually attended by one or two Jesuit priests, and sometimes also a Jesuit scholastic.

Those were some great days in the history of Chicago hotels, as also they were for Campion. As those days progressed, it was obvious that one of Chicago's great hotels was on the decline---The Edgewater Beach Hotel, whose haydays were mostly in the 1930s and 1940s.

Remembering Edgewater Beach Hotel is a book by John Holden and Kathryn Gemperle, just released in August 2021. For those who have an interest in Chicago Hotels in that era, it will be of great interest.

Mrs. Gemperle is the sister of this writer, and has visited Campion many times in the 1960s, She is the founder of the Edgewater Historical Society.