We stopped behind the big Kroger store on East Main Street where my brother-in-law was head of the meat department to pick up some discarded wooden orange crates. Then we parted, I hauling my crate home to my house and Bob hauling his home in the opposite direction. We would use the wood in the crates to build trailers for our bicycles so we could tow stuff out a country road to swim and frolic in a bubbling brook some place. It was Bob's idea. I knew Bob Maxwell '47 from when I was in the first grade at St. Catherine Academy and he was in the second grade. Bob was always the best-natured boy in school, admired by his fellow students and loved by his teachers. St. Catherine was a three-story fire-trap grade/high school run by the Sisters of Charity, years later shut down by the Lexington Fire Department. Bob and I became fast friends just about the time he was graduating from the eighth grade; we spent much of our time on our bicycles roaming the country roads around Lexington. Soon Bob was getting ready to leave for Campion High School in 1943. I followed him to Campion the year after.

Robert Stevens Maxwell '47 was born in Lexington, Kentucky, October 21, 1929, and died in Cincinnati, Ohio, December 29, 2016, after 87 years of rather zestful living. He had one brother, Jack, and one sister, Nancy. Bob's father was a general pathologist.

Bob was a handsome blond young man who wore glasses. He was a First Class Boy Scout in Troop 7, leader of the Bat Patrol, and enlisted me there. He loved the out-of-doors and always excelled in scholastics. He spent much time in his father's basement woodworking shop.

After graduating from Campion, Bob went on to college then entered the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers (who like to be known as the Marines of the Catholic Church). He was ordained a priest in 1956 and for the first several years did fundraising for the Maryknoll Community in Texas, Colorado and New Mexico. Later he served in Guatemala for five years.

There he met Mary (Liz) Bruening, a Maryknoll nun. Both left religious life independently and met again in the United States. In 1971 they married. As a couple, they came to California to work with Cesar Chavez. Bob was put in charge of the print shop, printing flyers and signs for all the boycotts that were happening at the time and shipping them across the country. He earned a master's degree in social work and was a licensed clinical social worker. In his 50s he worked full-time as a woodworker. He joyfully designed and constructed fine church and home furniture, prayer benches and pine coffins.

Few people remember Bob's musical solo on the Ed Sullivan Show where he played "Red River Valley" on the accordion. Years later he played the harmonica at Masses in the Vatican at Pope John XXIII's tomb, at Jesus' birthplace in Bethlehem and on the Via Crucis (Way of the Cross) in Jerusalem.

Liz and Bob became active with the Western Wildlife Corridor, a non-profit group devoted to the preservation of the scenic beauty and natural resources of the Ohio River Valley. They served as leaders in a couples' spirituality movement and began a daily practice of Centering Prayer and were active in forming Centering Prayer groups who met weekly for about 30 years. Several of those groups were at the Sisters of Charity Motherhouse.

Bob firmly believed that God led him to spend his final years happily at Bayley, the Sisters of Charity retirement village in Cincinnati in 2002. "Bob Maxwell was a 'gentleman saint,'" wrote Sister Grace Ann Gratsch. "He and his dearest wife, Lizzie, as he called her, introduced Centering Prayer to our campus more than 10 years ago. It continues today leading many to a deep relationship with God. He guided this practice and witnessed to its fruitfulness. His awareness of a presence beyond us showed us the mind of Christ. He was thoughtful, kind, and delightful company as he led the group in prayer with the grace of a gentleman. We shall not see the likes of him soon again. Thank you, God, for showing us how very good, loving, and attractive you are in Bob Maxwell."

Another nun, Sister Delia Sizler, said, "There are so many good things I remember about Bob. I remember when the leg broke off the couch in my counseling room. I told Bob and he said he'd come and take a look at it. Though it was tricky to fix, Bob managed to use his carpentry skills and the couch lasted the rest of my time in that office. Both Bob and Liz have helped support my various ministries. We were active together in Western Wildlife Corridor. Bob just had the best attitude about life and now he is home in eternity. As Liz said, 'He just melted into God.' I'll miss him."

According to Liz, "At the nursing home, each woman was 'Sister' to Bob. He went around helping, providing spiritual 'nosegays,' comforting those who could not get up, helping to the bathroom, joking, blessing everyone, and speaking Spanish to a Japanese woman. In his fantasy, he helped people get off the roof, gave rides home or to the hospital, got names and addresses, found shelter for the homeless, etc. etc."

Bob slipped into dementia in his final years, but never lost his wit nor his imagination nor his unlimited kindness. Liz continued to visit and minister to him and manage his affairs. I published a book some years ago of tales about my youth in several of which Bob appeared. I sent Liz a copy and from time to time she read to Bob. It made him smile.

So perhaps Bob rides his bike in Paradise now on some sylvan country road, stopping to build a church pew now and then and practice his accordion, polishing up his "Red River Valley," and waits for his beloved Lizzie to come and join him.

Henry had an interesting life, being born as a Protestant in the Sandy Row area of Belfast, a place always considered to be the heartland of Northern Ireland Protestantism; the family stated they are amazed that he converted to become a Jesuit.

Henry immigrated to Canada and apparently converted while staying in a Catholic-owned boarding house shortly after arrival in America. When the war [WWI] started he joined the Canadian Forestry Corps and served at Smiths Lawn at Windsor Castle (home of the British Royalty), helping supply the war effort in France.

Henry survived the war and joined the Jesuits around 1930. He started working at Campion around 1938. He took a hiatus from Campion in 1962 and returned in 1964 until 1973. He died in the 1970s [June 4, 1973].

Grounds-keeper seems like a small job, but in reality, there is more to it than just picking flowers for the altars. Fall, winter, and spring Brother Eakin was busy at the important task of keeping our campus one of the most beautiful in the country, His job ranged from driving a snow plow in the winter to handling a rake with dexterity in the spring. Whether riding a bike to inspect his workmen or driving the red truck with a group of student-helpers, this Irish brother is always smiling.

Alumni remember him, as a soft-spoken and gentle man. It seemed that Brother Eakin's presence gave a kind of spiritual strength to the rest of the Jesuit Community. It would be just like him to pray continually for all Campion Alumni. He was apparently known for his wit.

At various times, he also served as sacristan. This job involved taking care of the 3 altars in the student chapel and the 13 altars in the faculty chapel, plus preparing the vestments for all the priests (as many as 25 to 30 of them). In those days, each of the priests said a mass every day. There were a lot of cruets to fill and linens to wash.

A 1918 photo of Smith's Lawn, Canadian Forestry Corps. Despite all the army huts, the estate is a beautiful area and that's maybe where he obtained his love of landscaping work.

[NOTE:] Research by alumnus John Duskey and grand-nephew, Terry Eakin.

From Bill Leary '67...

I've read with interest the essays and comments on Campion's closing.

I came to Campion in 1963 when the enrollment was at one of its highest levels. My two brothers attended right behind me. By the time my class arrived, Vatican II had begun, the civil-rights movement had matured into a national crisis, and Vietnam was considered a domino in the spread of communism. But I knew more about baseball batting averages than any of that.

Following lunch in late November of that first year, we were told through classroom loudspeakers in Kostka Hall that the President of the United States had been shot. At freshman study hall that night or the next, we were told that there would be no classes on the day of the President's funeral. There were a number of cheers for the break from classes.

Several weeks later, in early 1964, the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show and Cassius Clay became the Heavyweight Champion of the World. Clay then renounced his "slave name" and announced his conversion to the Nation of Islam.

Over the next years I remember a number of us attending a Simon & Garfunkel concert. It might have been in Dubuque. Their songs were about introspection and war, and I remember a number of nuns in attendance. Many began to talk about the music of Bob Dylan. It took me a few more years to catch on. On campus there were "hootenannies," with more songs about war, freedom, and love for one another. A friend, I believe it was Skip Bacon from the class behind mine, invited us to his home to meet and hear from Dan Berrigan, the Jesuit poet and activist. A few of us attended an interracial workshop in Chicago. During two years of springtime flooding we helped to sandbag the river and move people from their homes. They were very poor. Years later their homes were demolished and their precinct is now part of a large park by the river.

Toward the second half of our junior year, a number of students met with Fr. Roger Lucey to discuss his concerns regarding waning student support for the school and its positive traditions. The students willingly agreed to be secret advocates for the school.

Senior year was a year of change within Campion, and some now feel it was the unintended beginning of its end. I never felt it at the time, and I don't wonder now what would have happened had nothing changed. One of my best and lasting memories of Campion was attending voluntary Mass that year in the basement chapel of Xavier Hall before dinner. That was the closest I ever felt to anyone at Campion during those years. It felt like a true community.

Perhaps all of us now appreciate the sacrifice of the Jesuit priests and novices who put up with the chaos of adolescent behavior to provide us with a tremendous education. It could not have been easy for them, particularly as they were also dealing with the changes that were going around and in them as well.

I have had occasional contacts with our Campion mentors. For several years I have attended retreats at the Demontreville Retreat House. Doug Leonhardt, Tom Schloemer, and Larry Gillick have been among the retreat masters. The Jesuits' commitment to high-school education has not waned. There is a Cristo Rey Jesuit High School in my area, one of over thirty in the United States that provide a college-preparatory education to underprivileged young men and women. I have to believe that in those schools Campion is alive and well. AMDG.

A couple of years ago my two brothers and I met in Prairie du Chien to see what remains of the former campus. One of my brothers was confused as he drove through town and was stopped by a police officer for driving the wrong way. We told him why we were in town. He had gone to Prairie High. He let my brother go without a ticket.

Hoffman Hall, now a community center, was the site of a flea market and we wandered through as we chatted. Toward the end a lady approached us and asked us if we worked for the state prison system because they didn't usually see people dressed as we were. She was very nice, and very proud of the building and that we came. She told us to come back any time. Later that weekend, my youngest brother expressed regret that he had left his junior year and had not graduated from Campion. We talked about his regret confirming that he was as much a part of Campion as we, his brothers, were.

In the end, I have thought of Campion in a more fundamental way. As my start at Campion was approaching, I had hoped that my parents would change their mind and tell me that I should stay home. I couldn't have requested that on my own. My parents were good and education-minded people of whom I was very proud. They were making a wonderful life for their own family. Sending a child to Campion was both a gift and a matter of pride. I was compliant, while also fearful of being away from them. After I left home, it took me a month before I initiated a conversation with anyone.

At graduation, I knew that I would never see again most of those whom I had met during those four years after my timid start. (I also suspected, confirmed repeatedly over the years that followed, that I had not yet become the man that the billboard by the railroad tracks had offered.) As we graduates walked across campus that morning, I committed to never forgetting how I felt at that moment at the very end - that my time at Campion was a wonderful experience that I would have declined had I could. Still, I have no regrets, and am grateful for all those I met.

Bill Leary
Class of 1967

Telegraph Herald speaks of Dr. Michael Garrity '49...

The young lady in Lynxville was expecting a child for the first time and didn't want to take any chances during the blizzard.

"She called me and said, 'I think I'm in labor,'" said Dr. Mike Garrity, recalling the mid-1960s incident. "There was just a horrendous snowstorm, so Ray Childs, our sheriff at the time, followed behind the ambulance on a snowmobile just in case."

After a 13-mile trip, they found the snow too deep to reach the house a few hundred feet up a hill. So Garrity climbed aboard the snowmobile with Childs to get there. The woman eventually rode the ambulance back to Prairie du Chien, where she later met her husband who had been out at the time.

"She sat in the hospital for two days and went home," without yet giving birth, Garrity laughed.

Still, Garrity would go on to bring 1,695 babies into the world during a 40-year career. He continues to stay active in area health care and was honored earlier this month on his 85th birthday with a mayoral proclamation.

Daughter Annie Garrity suggested the proclamation.

"I felt like Prairie du Chien means so much to my dad, that it would be a good way to honor the relationships between his patients and him, and him and his patients," she said.

Mayor Dave Hemmer was glad to dec lare Feb. 11 Dr. Michael S. Garrity Day.

"He delivered three of my kids," Hemmer said. "H's been very helpful with various things and fundraisers in Prairie du Chien and he's just an all-around great guy."

Garrity almost spent his life burying people.

Raised in Prairie du Chien, he went to the old ROTC Campion High School. He attended Marquette University as a freshman and then dropped out.

"I spent a year in a funeral home," he said. "Then the Korean War happened."

He and some buddies entered the U.S. Air Force.

Two weeks into basic training, he was pulled out and sent for training as a flight surgeon's assistant. Two flight surgeons then convinced him that doctoring was h is call. He graduated from medical school in 1959 and started working in Prairie du Chien a year later. "A family doctor, Dr. Tom Farrell, needed help for a year when he faced back surgery," Garrity said. "I fell into family practice and loved it."

He remembers his first delivery, a boy, in August 1960.

"His mom was so happy that she was my first delivery. She took photos at the hospital every year after that," Garrity said. "The first ones were with me holding him, and I believe the last one was in the parking lot, when he was about 6-foot or 6-1."

His wife of 57 years, Mary Ann, a former school counselor and now writer, recalled those beginnings.

"During the early years, it was hard," she said. "We had four little kids to raise. But so many househol ds were like that."

Garrity was team doctor at Campion for 15 yearsandatPrairieduChienHighSchoolfor27. His last delivery was in the 1990s. Since his retirement, hehaskeptbusyathomeandabroad.

From 2000 to 2004, he took part in the La Crosse International Health Partnership, serving in Ukraine during nine trips. Several Ukrainians also came to the United States.

"We went in with the idea, if you help us, we'll help you," Garrity said.

Since 2002, he has traveled to the St. Clare Health Mission in La Crosse to care for patients who have chronic conditions. Originally making the trip every Wednesday, he now goes every other Wednesday and sees five to eight regular patients.

In 2015, Garrity was given a World Services Legacy Award.

"I've loved the continuity of the relationships," said Garrity, who has delivered the grandchildren of people he once delivered. "That's always a thrill. You do know the family. It was a big deal."

Added Annie, "As my parents have aged, the community has done so much for them. That's just the way it is in Prairie du Chien, neighbors helping neighbors."

DAVE KETTERING · Telegraph Herald Dr. Michael Garrity served the Prairie du Chien, Wis., area for more than 40 years and in retirement continues to travel 120 miles per week to serve patients who lack reliable and basic health care access.

[EDITOR: Reprinted with permission from the Telegraph Herald. Originally appeared in Dubuque Telegraph Herald - February 27, 2017]

Dr. Michael Garrity '49 reflects on his career...

John Duskey '63 reports...

The retired Jesuits have been living at the Camillus residence in Wauwatosa for several years. There are about fifty Jesuits there, a fairly large community. Every year there are a few that die and a few more are sent there. The Jesuits recognized long ago that health care is not one of the ministries they should be involved in. That is why the Jesuits entered into a cooperative arrangement with the Camillus Fathers. So far, it has worked out very well.

It is an interesting and somewhat curious place to visit. Once you find the correct entrance to the building, you can easily enter and find the elevator. When you get to the upper levels, a first time visitor will need some help to know which direction to go and which hallway to follow. There is a community chapel and a dining room within the Jesuits' part of the building, as well as other service and administrative space. Each Jesuit has a suitable room. Some of the doorways and hallways are not exactly what the Jesuits need in their residence. The basic design is, in various places, not in compliance with disability standards.

A larger chapel is located in another part of the Camillus complex, where larger events such as funeral Masses take place.

There is continuing demand for space as well as for other improvements. Given the cost of modifications it was determined that the best way to solve the problems would be to construct a new building, a Jesuit residence, on the grounds of the Camillus complex.

The order of St. Camillus was founded in the 16th century to meet the health care needs of the time. Their habit includes a large red cross, symbolic of their commitment to medical care. This red cross eventually became a symbol for medical care in general. The organization we know as the Red Cross shows us how this symbol has evolved. Today the order of St. Camillus has missions on nearly every continent around the world.

One explanation for this need for additional space is that the three Midwest provinces of the Jesuit order are in the process of merging. On June 5, 2017, the effort to combine the Chicago, Detroit, and Wisconsin provinces into one Midwest Province will be complete. This new 12-state Province will encompass Ohio to the Dakotas and from Minnesota to Kentucky. These province reorganizations are taking place not only in the U.S., but in Jesuit communities all over the globe.

The new Provincial will be Fr. Brian Paulson, who was a member of Campion's class of 1977, and needed to transfer to another school half-way through his high school career [due to school closing 1975]. The new Province office will be headquartered in Chicago. Fr. Brian Paulson's brother Martin was a graduate of the class of 1975, and his father Peter graduated from Campion in 1953.

Ghost of Joe Campion...

Vintage Class Ring from 1923.

Jeff Paunicka '72 tells us his 10 cents...

I ran into this note that was from PdC in 1862 and I had to have it for my personal collection. Check out what a dime issued by Bank of Praire du Chien looked like back in 1862. Later that year, President Lincoln passed a law stating that all money used as legal tender had to be federally issued; so the life cycle of this note was very short.

Best regards,
Jeff Paunicka '72

John Pazdan '70 reflects...

I worked with CB [Chuck Berry] in February 1992 at the Cubby Bear in Chicago, a large 1000 seat club across from Wrigley Field. I was producing a singer/songwriter/pianist at the time, who got the gig to back up CB, and we used the drummer and guitar player from the demos we were doing for Capital Records. We had two sold-out shows that night. We did a sound check (why? you'll see); no CB of course. All of us had played at the Cubby Bear numerous times, so we didn't need one anyway.

Showtime was 8:00 PM...
It's around 7:30..no Chuck. At 7:45, the stage manager comes in and says get on stage, so we drudge down and plug in. At about 7:59+ Chuck comes in from the cold, wearing his coat and carrying his guitar case. He doffs the coat, and plunks down his guitar case, opens it up and takes out his guitar. This is in front of 1000 people mind you, who go nuts. He starts tuning..by ear. Since the guitar was still cold, it instantly goes OUT of tune..and he looks around. The guitar player we got for the gig was REALLY excited; he had wanted to meet and play with CB for decades (me too). Chuck looks at him and says, "NO GUITAR PLAYER, GET OFF THE STAGE!". The guitar player thought he was kidding for a second, then realized he wasn't and slinked off like a dog that had just been kicked. CB looks at the rest of us, and says "when I lift my leg, you stop..when I drop my leg, GO." Then he starts playing...

So, there is no set list; no charts with keys; nothing. We start following him and there it is.. we are playing with CB. This is standard CB M.O.

About a minute into this, CB does the duck walk to the piano side of the stage. Since Johnnie Johnson, his old partner, had opened the show, they had rented a big Steinway piano. The Cubby stage isn't all that big, and the drummer was on a riser, so when CB gets all the way over, the drummer cannot see him. I am watching CB like a hawk, and when he lifts his leg, I stop. BUT, the drummer couldn't see him, and kept playing. CB starts yelling to anyone who could hear "STOP THE SHOW I WANT A NEW DRUMMER!". He does the stink eye stare at all three of us..then starts playing again..we fall in..then he does it AGAIN. Although I tried to signal the drummer who still couldn't see him, it didn't work. Now CB is REALLY mad. "FIRE EVERYBODY!!! GET RID OF THESE MOTHERF***ERS!!". He huffs and puffs back to the middle of the stage where, surprise!, everybody can see him. He starts again, and this time the drummer stops when he lifts his leg. He then goes up to the mic[rophone] and says "Now ladies and gentlemen, we can begin the show". The crowd goes nuts.

That first show was a blur. I have no idea what songs we did, though I recall him doing "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll" by Bob Seger. I hate that song. The show was supposed to go 45 minutes or so, and at 44:59 seconds, CB duckwalks off the stage while we are all still playing. I started laughing because I was the only guy up there standing; so for 15 seconds I BECAME CHUCK BERRY, going to the middle of the stage raising my bass and bring it down. And with that we mercifully ended set one.

In between sets...
I talked to Johnnie Johnson before he went on, and really liked him. He is probably the guy who wrote the music for a lot of CB's tunes, but never got paid. He tried suing in federal court a few years before this show, but failed due to the statute of limitations, so he never got a dime. Lovely man, and great piano player. We were talking backstage and he's telling me "man I feel so much better now that I stopped drinkin'." I looked down at the beer in his hand, and he sees that and says "I mean gin, this beer ain't nothin'." Please feel free to use that [excuse] fellow Knights.

We run into CB right before we hit for the second show and CB is hangin' with a white trash hooker in a bad rabbit fur coat, introducing her as "Missus Berry". We all know the real Mrs. Berry is a 70 year old African American woman; make your own value added judgements here.

So we go up for the second show, and things actually go smoothly..umm smoother. Chuck does the same routine at 44:59 and I gloriously, and with a deep profound sigh of relief, end the night. No encores; Chuck is already in the car with Missus Berry; he had collected his $35,000 in cash before playing. Not bad for two hours "work" in 1992. Each of the rest of us made $50. I didn't care then, I don't care now.

The next day...
I was living in Naperville back then, and it is a long ride to the city, so I was asleep for about two hours when I get a call. It's this [expletive] DJ called Johnny B. It turns out "Johnny B" was friends with our guitar player who got booted off before firing a shot. So he wants to know WHY..How did CB have the nerve to do that?

First off, it's apparent that "Johnny B" stole his on-air name from Chuck ["Johnny B. Goode" 1958 by Chuck Berry]. But second, I am of the opinion that CB actually invented rock music, at least the stuff I like. So for some six figure [expletive] to insinuate what I thought he was yappin' about (and I was 1/2 asleep)..I said that without CB, he would not even have a category and sub category within which he could make 10 cents, no less six figures. I have never spoken to him again. That's a feature, not a bug.

One other thing I'd like to say. At the time I did this show, I was deep into roots music, including playing Chicago blues with people who were the real deal. I was playing a bit with a great guitar player from the delta, Lefty Dizz, who was not all that well known, but REALLY good. Go ahead, look him up. Now, Dizz was often dissed because he was unschooled, 13..11..hell 17 bar blues, never in tune..drunk most of the time etc., etc. In other words, Keith Richards. But he had some of the best phrasing EVER, and that's what I listen for in a rock, or blues, or jazz player. The King of this is Howlin' Wolf's old guitar player Hubert Sumlin. But on a good night, which were few, he could stand up next to him. Anyway, RIP soulmen.

In the rider for Chuck, it said he had to have two old school Fender Showman Reverb amps. They stopped making those in like 1970. If he didn't have them, he'd be paid $200 extra. So the rental company came through with them, and as the stage was small, I was sorta playing on top of them. When he started playing [these amps are loud] my ear got the Chuck Berry channel at 110 dB plus. And with all that crazy stuff going on, or in spite of it, I realized that Chuck and Lefty Dizz had roots that were the same; and that CB's timing was superb. I have tried explaining this to a lot of people; none of whom ever got it. It's always been a litmus test of sorts for me, that when I play with new people, to do a CB song. Ha ha, everybody knows how to play CHUCK BERRY songs, duh..but nine out of ten have no freakin' clue how to do this, especially drummers. Although the one out of ten who does know how to play them is like a wonderful beam of light. Hail, Hail, etc.

I have told this story a lot in the last 10 years or so in podcasts and little rawk mags. And have heard from a lot of other players who went through the same thing, so much so that I was going to do a FB [FaceBook] page "I played with Chuck Berry". If you think about it, there are thousands of players that have done this since 1952 or so. But I can barely keep my own webpage (currently down..again) going.

JP

Schaefer O'Neill '72 subtle reminder...

I've had this baby on my window sill for a couple of years, gotta love the phone number. Schaefer