MEMORIES & MESSAGES

JOURNEYS in LIFE

To my Cathedral brothers,

Here in Summer 2021 we are progressing to the other side of the Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19). Hopefully, it is a light at the end of this tunnel, not that of an upcoming train. (Murphy’s Law) Hope is my favorite virtue – its coalescence is resiliency. At the request of my daughter Lee Anne and her daughters I wrote an Autobiography in 2020; it is for them to read my family’s oral history in the years to come. With thanks to classmates and Professors from my six years at 555 I have captured my academic experiences from that formal education. Let me share this with you.

Here’s an all too wordy recall of 1962 – 1968.

Let’s start at the beginning, the very beginning. I arrived in 1948 during a blizzard. It was a Winter storm with almost 21 inches of snow - same as my length at birth, 8 lb. 7 oz. At 2:16 AM on January 8, I was born at St Joseph’s Hospital on South Broadway, Yonkers, New York.  By age two or so my family moved to a private home in south Yonkers. My earliest Memories are from my preschool days and early schooling, Mom was always home in  my early years. She did not drive. Dad did all the driving for family outings. For thirty years my parents owned their first and only Yonkers’ home at 30 Sedgwick Avenue, Ninth Ward, St. Paul the Apostle Parish. The  southern dead end of our street was the boundary of NYC’s Van Cortlandt Park; it spanned across the northern boundaries of Manhattan and the Bronx. The northern end of our street was the beginning boundary to Westchester County’s Tibbetts Park. We needed parks. The home, on a narrow dead-end street, was two stories with living space plus an unfinished attic and basement.

I stayed home with my Mother until I was 5 years and nine months old to start Kindergarten,  Yes, as many of my classmates can bear testimony, the Archdiocese of New York moved the birth date a month earlier in September 1953.  I “lost” a year by eight days. I progressed steadily, slightly above average, at St. Paul’s with its dedicated Presentation Sisters of the Blessed Virgin Mary from Newburgh. 

The next step in my education was a four-year academic, boys’ high school - Catholic of course - 1962 - 1966. Life Intersection... I selected Cathedral in 1962. In Eight Grade we studied for the Cooperative Admissions Examination Program, “COOP”. It was held before Thanksgiving, usually at one’s Elementary School. I had the opportunity to visit Cathedral College on the Upper West Side of Manhattan - 555 West End Avenue  for my exam on a Saturday morning.  My Dad must have driven me to the school. If I had done a test run on public transportation, I may have had second thoughts. In September 1962, I started with the daily commute from Yonkers with an hour on a good day - each way. We were 72 freshmen divided into two sections. Only 29 would graduate in four years. We had six major classes per day, four to five days a week. No study halls or breaks aside from the 10 minutes between 50-minute classes. By Second Year a fifty minute 11 AM opening was created for attending Daily Mass at 11 AM. My only elective in four years was a modern language selected at the end of First Year. I requested Spanish. I was assigned to attend Italian class. The teachers were all Diocesan Priests with an exception or two along the way. Mr. Bill Poli and Mr. Vince Scotti were lay teachers meaning they had not taken Religious Orders. (Today Bill and Vince meet with us annually to share stories of how great we are - were.)  The other 22 subjects through four years were taught by Archdiocesan Priests. Most with 20 plus years teaching and some with multiple advanced degrees. An exceptional education was provided at 555 West End Avenue - attending Cathedral.

Here is some background. The 72 boys who arrived at Cathedral in 1962 were initiating a 12-year predetermined educational journey. The first six years I experienced at Cathedral College, later called The Prep, located on 555 West End Ave on the southwest corner of 87th Street. During my first four years there were five Administrators: Rector, Monsignor Gerald A. Green , Dean of Studies, Father John V. Wilkinson (1923-2005), later to be the Chaplin at Iona (1973-1981), Father Walter J. Niebrzydowski, Prefect of Discipline - today described as a thankless job by its then occupant, Procurator Father Thomas A. Gartland (1923-2000) and Spiritual Advisor Father Thomas Murphy. Forty plus years later my classmates have been reconnecting at luncheons. Father Nebo was fluent in Polish - unfortunately, this was never offered as an elective. Born in the Bronx he went to Cardinal Hayes HS, Cathedral College, Dunwoodie then to Rome at the prestigious North American College. He was ordained there in 1959. He was awarded the license in Sacrae Theologicae (STL.) Our Religious Advisor Father Thomas Murphy was also a Rome graduate and our First Year Religion teacher. Father James Griffin earned a Sacrae Theologicae Doctor (STD)  (summa cum laude) from the Gregorian University in Rome. I conclude today our teachers were over-qualified to be teaching high school classes but that was how they were assigned to their service and vocation by the Archdiocese. Their dedication to their positions pushed us to our greatest potential. This was a major occurrence for me as I was experiencing a 180-degree change from one Nun in a classroom with us all day for eight years. It was dramatic - even traumatic - for me.

Actually,  this academic rigor did not seem unusually harsh - just difficult. It was what we were all doing to achieve our formal education. I was in a “preparatory” school. The curriculum was designed to make us ready for college in four years. With current reunions with classmates as a lens to the past, I cannot recall any of my Elementary and Prep school classmates’ parents having a college degree. There must be an exception or two. Also, all but one of my Prep school classmates went on to attend College. Most have achieved post baccalaureate terminal degrees. We were motivated, focused and well educated.

Mom and Dad took immense pride as my younger sister and I continued our formal educational journeys. My two older brothers ended their formal education as quickly as they had the opportunity.  By the time I was traveling to the City to Cathedral Prep, my parents made sure I had the tools to succeed. It was two busses and a subway or a bus and two subways to get to the Upper West Side from Sedgwick Avenue.  Often, Dad would offer to drive me to the #1 subway shortening twenty minutes from my commute. I received $20 biweekly.  That covered car fare and a hot lunch at school each day. Aside from a Saturday paper route across St. Paul’s Parish, paid work was limited to the Summer when there were no classes. I was never asked to contribute to my tuition. Cathedral was $15 per month. Compare that to today where nearby Dalton School costs $52,000 per year.

The academic days were long in Prep School. I usually awoke at 6:15 AM,  dressed and took the 7:15 city bus then a subway and returned home by 4:30. Most enjoyable part of the school day?  A short power nap before starting two to three hours of homework. Dinner was around six after Mom returned from work. Occasionally a tea and biscuit with Mom before bed and then off to sleep around 10 pm. Repeat. The days were challenging and regimented. I had outside limited interests to keep up with as well. My involvement in Boy Scouts continued through prep years providing some diversion, probably the only one. 

In the meantime, at Cathedral, I was making all new friends. There was now limited connection with my elementary classmates. Most of the kids who spent nine years at St. Paul’s, I would never see again. Strange not to see so many again, yet I have rekindled some connections especially over the past decade. Thank you, Facebook. Yes, I use my daughter Suzanne’s account to find friends. No, I do not post.

While there was a basketball team, a few intramural sports, a school newspaper and a weekly gym class, our focus was purely scholastics at the Prep. Most classes were focused on participation, constant quizzes, midterms and finals. Four marking periods per school year added to my stress to survive and succeed. Public Speaking was a component of most classes this was deemed a critical skill to be mastered by all. Oh, and add in a standardized national exam each year required by the Faculty.

Two life lessons …  Fight for survival - failure was not an option. Work ethic - no matter how much I prepared there was more I could have done.

Recall 29 men of the 72 boys made it from first year to graduation? My rank although it was never listed was probably #27. My classmates joke today that I graduated in the top 60% and not the bottom two. (27 of 72)  My Report Cards are packed away somewhere. Perhaps Report Cards were returned to Cathedral with our Pastor’s signature.  I recall, but am not positive – I am tough on myself - I failed by only a few points, three subjects in the first semester in January 1963: Latin, Biology and Algebra. I passed English, Civics and Religion. Auspicious, plus our Parish Pastor was a required signer on my report cards plus both parents. By June I was on task - passed all six. Each teacher’s teaching methods and approach were different. We had mostly lectures from a raised six inch platform and a chalkboard. A Modern Language Lab was added by Junior Year. It is remarkable how the professors got me on track. I had to learn how to study more effectively and efficiently. Hours of class preparation every night plus weekends. I am a survivor and honest. This pathfinder found his way from St. Paul’s to Cathedral then survived. The Professors saw something in me that I did not perceive. That is what makes a great teacher. Someone who  finds what motivates a student to learn and helps to guide him on the path to academic success. I was surrounded by great instructors, each one unique. All united to educate young Catholic boys into men.  Classmates exited steadily due to academic failures or moral shortcomings (cheating, theft) but not me.   Let me share two exceptions of a moral compass leading to immediate dismissal in the early Sixties at Cathedral. During a Spanish Final Exam at the end of Second Year, Father Ray Smith observed a student asking for help - a.k.a. cheating. At the end of the exam two students were in the Rector’s Office and, within minutes, both were expelled. (One of these two students is a friend and confidant today - sixty years later.  He was the victim as another student asked him for help.)  A second example occurred when a classmate stole my Shell Charge Card from my wallet when I was at Gym Class. At that time gas stations noted the license plate on the receipt. When the charge card bill arrived my Mother, now working at Yonkers Traffic Court, ran the plate. I shared the information with Father Niebrzydowski - Prefect of Discipline. Weeks later he shared his detective work that led to a student a year above me who had used the card in a friend’s car. How he connected the dots I do not recall. Proving there is a god, the expelled student graduated with me at Iona. No, no exchange or discussions were held.

Our school was permitted to offer Freshman Biology as our science - five lectures per week plus a one-hour lab. (Recall no formal science classes at St. Paul’s? My friends were taking General Science in Freshman year.)  For Christmas break we created an experiment in a test tube. Actually, my brother Rich’s Dutch Master cigar glass tubes worked well. Rich donated his empty cigar tubes with an occasional cigar for Father “Bugsy” Hanlon. No, it never helped my grades. The fruit fly experiment required us to identify a male and female fly. The two flies were to be placed, with a small section of banana, in the tube and left to multiply. When I returned from Christmas break with the original two fruit flies, Father Hanlon concluded the obvious, I had selected two of the same sex. In vitro fertilization was years away. 

John “Mike” Downey returned with a full test tube of flies. His advice - post assignment - start with a lot more than two. Probability is greater there would be a male and a female fruit fly. And recently, a classmate, John “Peter” Notch, shared how he did it fifty-eight years ago. After the first week of our Christmas break, he concluded he was encountering the same problem as me. Solution?  He went to a friend’s home, borrowed a few of his multiplying fruit flies and passed the class.  Life Lesson… Seek alternative means to successfully complete tasks. I should have employed this lesson for my Biology fruit fly experiment.

Sophomore Year was, by design, tough academically. I could now see my classmates were gaining in confidence, maturing physically and intellectually. We were beginning to question authority, albeit mildly in these early years. The 1963-1964 classes were linked as we studied the same period across three classes. We learned about Julius Caesar through translating his Gallic Wars from Latin with Father Jim Griffin. World History took us from B.C. to Caesar led by Mr. Bill Poli as did English classes reenacting Shakespeare plays with Father Bill Zoshak. 

I was now adapting to student life and rigors at the Prep. A good year academically. True even today, Sophomore Year is filled with classes requiring vast amounts of reading, papers, orals and exams. Survive. Move on. An America changing, catastrophic event occurred in Sophomore Year. President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, age 46, truly a hero to a young, all too Catholic kid, was assassinated on November 22, 1963. Sophomore year - Friday, 12:30 PM CT. Msgr. Green announced on the loudspeaker that classes were over. I can see in my mind’s eye, even today, people crying on the subway on my way home. If there is a day when one’s childhood innocence ends...it was November 22 for me. That weekend Troop 47 had planned an overnight camping trip to Monticello. I am not sure why - like the NFL that fateful weekend - we played on. The State Funeral was on Monday, we all watched our black and white living room TVs witnessing the Kennedy family mourning. The first Catholic President’s Funeral Mass was officiated by Bostonian James Cardinal Cushing. Back to class on Tuesday. It was not easy to go back to the routine of attending classes. I was numb. The month went quickly and we took our Christmas break. Life Lesson—- children’s adult heroes sometimes die too young. 

During my six years at 555 I saw most of our teachers suck down a cigarette or two in the ten minutes each hour between classes. Our Frosh English teacher year one was Father Ray Smith - a classmate of my Parish Priest, Father John Gallagher and my future teacher Fr. Donald Hendricks (Dunwoodie, 1955.)  At the end of second year, 1964, I recall a brief exchange with Father Smith, a smoker, now the Spanish teacher. I observed I might lose weight this Summer if I took up smoking cigarettes. Father Smith was a handsome, educated, young 32-year-old Priest. He advised I should not smoke like he and other teachers did. Life Intersection... No smoking. I pursued a Summer diet limiting calories and saved money by not buying a pack or two a day. (For my older grand nephews and grandchildren, I’ll do a fast calculation. The result is, I drive Mercedes today, for what I saved on cigarettes. Do the math.)

I returned for the Junior year Fall Term in 1964. I was 54 pounds lighter than when I had left in June. I was armed with a NYS Junior Driver’s License!  ( Junior? I was not permitted to drive in NYC where a special NYC rule required a new driver to be age 17, not the 16-year-old suburban requirement.) I would have to wait for a car and a senior license before I would be permitted to drive into the City.

Msgr. James Byrne - Big Jim - taught us Cicero and Virgil’s Aeneid. We had him for his last two years before his retirement from teaching for 25 years at Cathedral. He then went on to be a Parish Pastor in the Summer of 1966. If there was one phrase that resonates throughout my life it is…  “Be a man, boy.”  Two years in his Latin III-IV classes made a man out of every boy. And yes, some wet their pants when they were called on to stand up and translate from Latin a passage from Cicero or a line from the rhythmic Aeneid in dactylic hexameter. Big Jim could bellow up and down an aisle: O TEMPORA, O MORES. Cicero’s Catilinarian Orations were alive and well for 25 years in his classroom at 555.  Yes, he taught Father Gallagher in the Forties and me in the Sixties.

Junior Year flew by. We were taking all pre-determined classes: English 3, American History 3, Italian 2, Latin 3, Algebra 2 and Trigonometry and Religion 3. Senior Year would be equally challenging as all six major courses were taught: Chemistry, English 4, European History, Italian 3, Latin 4 and Religion 4.

I recall Father Thomas Murphy taught us four years and was Spiritual Advisor.  In Junior and Senior years, most of our assigned teachers were new to us because there was a split of the Faculty between the first two years and the last two. The new lineup consisted mostly of teachers celebrating their 25th year teaching at Cathedral. We did not know it until near graduation that our teachers would be reassigned to local parishes as Pastors - all newly minted Papal Chamberlains. A dramatic turnover was orchestrated over four years by the newly appointed Rector, Rt. Rev. Msgr. Gerald A. Green. He started in 1962 with our first-year class. In June 1966, Msgr. Byrne (Latin 3-4), Msgr. Dennen (Italian 1-3), Msgr. Callaghan (History 3-4), Msgr. Hanlon (Biology 1) were all onto new careers. 

During my Prep School experience, I only had one favorite class, Italian. I took it for six semesters over three years. Learning the language created an affinity and interest that has lasted a lifetime. The other courses are viewed as requirements. Complete year one, move to the next year, repeat. Compared to my classmates, I  was generally somewhere in between popular and unpopular during my Prep school years. Definitely in between being the third of four children with average athletic skills and average grades. No classmates lived nearby, so rarely did we meet on weekends. But friendships were forged. I learned the lifetime benefit of having friends and some confidants.

Several Prep Faculty members moved with my Senior class in 1966 from the high school to the attached two-year College. Father Browne (Civics 1 to EU History 6) and Father Griffin (Latin 1-2 to Theology 5-6), and Father Hendricks (Latin and History to Latin 5-6) stayed with us on our academic journey. An equal number of College Professors exited stage left in 1966. Post Vatican II change was on an accelerated course on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Life Intersection... I deferred transferring schools from 1966 to 1968. This meant meeting a newly arrived Fifth Year Classmate, John Mancuso. John introduced me to my wife of 50 years, Dona and me.  It was a blind “date” at the end of the second semester.  Today I advise my children to be thankful I stayed for Fifth and Sixth Years at 555.

When I now meet with my classmates, we all have endless stories about these teachers. Class by class. Teacher by teacher. These men made us boys’ men. All these teachers were memorable and almost all had a positive, parental attitude toward us. Each class was a challenge led by men who were professional, accomplished teachers. We were their students, their life, their vocation.

In September 1965, at 17, I began my Senior Year at Prep School, I was experiencing a life lesson but only witnessing this subconsciously. Roma non e stata in un giorno - Rome was not built in a day. Under the baton of Msgr. Green plus the direction and approval of the Chancery Office, tired, older, experienced teachers were to be replaced with young, energetic ones. Bill Poli, Vince Scotti and Larry Byrnes were added to the Faculty during my years at the Prep. Armed with undergrad degrees, youth - replacing crusty, older teachers. I witnessed a movement evolve - changing a culture, rejuvenating a school in the post Vatican II era, while simultaneously maintaining a stable learning environment. It was an art administered and orchestrated by Msgr. Green with compassion, expertise and empathy.  One skill I have emulated through my business career - time and a plan are one’s best friends to institute monumental change effectively. Plus, a detailed project management handbook for all the chess moves required. Life Lesson… Retire a day early not a day late. 

Senior Year in 1965-66 was filled with decisions. College selection?  SATs?  Campus visits?  I had progressed through the college application process single handedly. What was absent from our high school experience?  Guidance counselors, athletic teams, co-eds, college advisors and study halls. Did I miss it?  Not really - I had signed up for a rigorous educational program and I knew it. It began with the end in mind. I received a fine, well planned, and well taught education. For the first time in my education progress, I was making things happen. I wrote an Editorial for our school newspaper in 1966. In my Cathedralite article I made the case for two actions for change: School rings and a new four year Graduation Ceremony. I recall using the term “unostentatious ceremony.” (Yes, eight semesters of Latin coupled with six of Italian had its impact.)  Of course, the Editorial, Bill Belford was the Editor in Chief, would not have been published if the Faculty were not willing to approve my request. I was thrilled with the response. I had challenged the Hierarchy successfully. My recommendations were acknowledged, accepted and implemented. As noted, six of our teachers were retiring and heading to new assignments; this helped my cause for a Ceremony to bid them farewell. 

And Tuesday evening, June 7, 1966, after our formal class graduation, I faced a life crossroads. I had failed EU History taught by Rev. Msgr. Florence Cohalan,  soon to be Professor Emeritus and about to be newly appointed Pastor on Staten Island. Six of the 29 young men had failed his class. He was probably the least effective Professor for me  in my lifetime of formal education experiences. He was, in his own mind, an aristocrat. He was the son of a prominent, self-educated lawyer and a NYC Supreme Court Judge who was a Democrat of Tammany Hall. (I found out many years later, his Mother died in his childbirth in 1907. His twin would die six years later. He was educated at Dunwoodie, Georgetown and Harvard.)  He would preside at 555 at a table and chair on a riser at the head of the class. He lectured through a locked or limited movement jaw, making it difficult to understand his enunciation and word formation. He rarely used the chalkboard. Never used a visual aide. He just seemed to pontificate simply with his monotone voice promulgating right wing views on the World of the Sixties. His class was the perfect time for a senior to rest his eyes. His quizzes and tests consisted of multiple choices and essays. Read…recite… memorize…repeat. That was it. If one could memorize the facts and reply to an objective question you would achieve success. (Norm Bahlert recalls today Flo’s quizzes contained questions from Footnotes.)  No critical thinking…no what-ifs…no debate. A horrible experience. His class concluded with my failure to achieve a passing grade. I needed an independent thinker! I was a victim of a bigot! I would now have to pay for my own failure.

One of his opinions is tattooed on my memory… if the USA sold military weapons to our anti-democratic enemies - the USSR and PRC - Communist China, we could be allies with the victor who eliminated our mutual enemy. This was an era of  anti-Communism. Post McCarthyism, and democracy. Eisenhower’s worst fear - USA -  the military industrial complex - was clearly moving center stage. 

By then I could find Vietnam on a map. Twelve years later I would be living in Hong Kong. Attaché case in hand, I would be a peacetime international banker, flying around - not over - Vietnam. Why did I not show my photos and witness of the result of war to this aristocrat who sat on a chair and lectured impressionable 16-18-year-olds? I would tour the devastation of Siem Reap. Later I would see what supplying arms accomplished. I now understand Msgr. Cohalan was someone who could not “do,” so he “taught.”  Change was not happening on his watch. He made Senior Year a detour from my enhanced learning and growth through the first three years. I did not think of myself as a Conservative or Liberal. I was too immature, too naive, to have formulated one way of thinking. I had an open mind. I now realized I had the right to edit the thoughts one poured into it. I guess I did learn something...

Back to our formal 1966 graduation ceremony on the seventh of  June seventh at 555. The events of the night of my celebration live with me to this day. I was angry. I had failed. I was quitting school. I could not contain my utter outrage from my family. My oldest brother Rich, now 27, married with two children, took me out of earshot of family. He told me straight out I was not abandoning my formal education. I would be the first to go to College. I was to face this failure head on, go to Summer School and move forward. Rich did not dwell on the choices he had made at my age. However, there was no way my big brother would let me repeat them.  At least we all walked with our class at graduation with Auxiliary Bishop Philip Furlong - Rector Emeritus -presiding.

The next day, the Rector,  Msgr. Green met in the Library with the six of us who had failed. Advised us all that Fr. Browne (our first year Civics teacher and soon to be our sixth-year college History Professor) would administer a second exam in a few days. We all passed. And we all moved on to college. Crisis averted.

Recently my second-year teacher referred to Cathedral Prep in NYC as the nearest institution to a Boys Boarding School in England. Mr. Bill Poli was unique. In our Sophomore year he was our World History teacher. While many of our teachers were equipped with advanced degrees, years of experience and were Priests, Bill provided a life experience: marriage, children, and 20 to 30 years younger than most of the Priests. No Nun or Priest had that as a resume. He was even tempered and steady. He was not there to convert our minds to an ideology. He was there to develop boys into men. Remarkable. Now, my classmates all start their Memories with Bill teaching us to read critically as 15-year-olds. He really taught us how to investigate and examine then judge for ourselves the content and History. In his class the wheat was separated from the chaff as we learned the skill of critical reading. We used a thick, large navy-blue tomb textbook entitled “Ancient and Medieval History” by Carlton J.H. Hayes and Parker Thomas Moon. We studied for Ancient History Sophomore year but it came alive in his class by our learning to read and understand. We were studying, underlining, Mr. Poli roaming up and down the aisles, pointing to my book’s highlights. His critique - I underlined too much – too much chaff. My lifelong friends and classmates Tim Horgan and Rich Duttwyler agree today that Mr. Poli was a critical resource to our lifetime learning to think and reason. Remarkable. Thank you, Bill. (Yes, after fifty years Mr. Poli invited us to call him Bill.)

Bill recently added a parenthetical remark that I have been quoting through my life. Graduate class - Msgr. James J. Lynch - Cathedral College Dean - “Jimmy” said, “Diarrhea of words is a constipation of thought.”  What does that mean to me? Make sure you can execute an informed decision, and not procrastinate. I have experienced too many leaders in a position of authority who could not gather enough information to make a decision. Let me share an example. Have you ever stood on a ski mountain?  Someone endlessly analyzing and assessing the slop?  At some point, make a decision, go. Life Lesson… There are three types of people - those who make things happen, those who watch what happens and those who ask what happened. Be a doer.

By Senior Year Spring Semester 1966 I had begun applying to alternative, selective colleges. I was searching but with little guidance from family or teachers. In 1965, my PSATs were V 40 and M 55. In January 1966, my SAT scores were V. 463, M 524; Italian achievement 525. One and done: no prep, no do over. Strange, today I do not recall much chatter about the college application process in the cafeteria senior lunch table. To stay and continue into Fifth and Sixth years at Cathedral College was almost the default choice. I was accepted at Manhattan College  and SUNY Albany. Ironically, in 1966, I was waitlisted at Iona only to attend full time two years later. I guess it was a long wait list. The changing point?  Rector Msgr. Green had stopped me on the staircase between classes near the end of Senior Year. He confirmed with me that he was aware I was applying to alternative colleges. Simply stated he said, “we would like to have you continue here with us.” 

I did stay for two additional years at Cathedral College. I completed Fifth and Sixth years there. I went from the third through fifth floors for Prep School classes to the second floor for College. Basically, it was a continuing Prep School education. Was the Prep that advanced or the College not as competitive? Three of our Prep School teachers joined us in college classes. Classical Languages was our major. By the time I left Cathedral in 1968 I had completed twelve semesters of Latin, four of Greek and six of Italian.

Thankfully, I had five years of mathematics classes. New classmates were added to the roster in Fifth Year. The only two Science classes I experienced were Freshman Year Biology and Senior Year Chemistry in Prep School. I had earned 72 college credits at Cathedral College.

No, there was no credit for Prep AP classes. Life Intersection... I transferred to Iona in 1968 and majored in Economics. During the second year of Cathedral College 1968 I struggled - more mentally than physically. I was checking out. I wanted to move on with my life. I wanted to go in a different direction. Add in the assassination of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King coupled with the election of President Nixon, the World was aflame. The potential loss of Hope weighed heavy for me. I was raised by my parents wisely - certainly neither of us was a burden to each other - as it was to so many of my friends pursuing their own path in life. This was the late Sixties. As we now survive 2020 I sense that same potential loss of Hope for our future. It is time to get back up and progress forward for the sake of our grandchildren.

In 1968 we all knew where Vietnam was on a map. My cousin Regis Gmitter “Beegie” enlisted in the Green Berets soon after his 1966 graduation from Sacred Heart HS in north Yonkers.  My weekly letters to Beegie were addressed to an Army base in Germany. His return letters came from Vietnam. As I write this Autobio in 2020, I have viewed a YouTube interview with a St. Paul’s 1962 classmate Steven Mozian. Steve went to Fordham Prep after St. Paul’s Elementary School. After his first semester at Fordham University, he quit college. He joined the Special Forces like my cousin Beegie. Steve spent two tours in Vietnam in 1968-1970, about 18 months. If I needed a vision of the path not taken in 1966 when I wanted to quit school, I see it vividly listening to the words of Steven. Google his name, watch the interview. Warning it is horrific.

These are the most critical six years of my personal development  - 1962-1968 - spent at Cathedral College. Aristotle and Loyola may have been a bit early in developing a man. For me I started as a boy and emerged as a man. The pathfinding, trials, tribulations, survival and ultimately successfully achieving my Diplomae are condensed into this chapter of my life. This is where I learned how far I could be challenged academically, how my Moral Compass from my parents’ examples was rightfully set, and what was important to me in my life - Family.

Let me share what happened to my Cathedral classmates over my six years. Only 15 of the 72 boys who started the journey in 1962 advanced to Fifth Year. What was the ending?  In the Fall of 1966 our Prep class was reloaded as we began Year 5 at Cathedral College. We were joined by 23 transferring students graduating from other High Schools. Eight members of our Fifth Year class were ordained in 1974. Two of those eight men were from that original freshman Prep class of 1962. They made it to December 1974 when they were ordained - Bill Belford and Pete Gilhawley. Pete invited me to his Ordination at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. He was the first classmate I met even before we started in September 1962. Our Fathers were NYC Bus Drivers, they belonged to the Holy Name Society for drivers. There was a Spring 1962 scholarship exam, we met there. No, neither of us earned that award.

With only 2 of 72 high school Freshmen making the twelve-year journey, and eight of 38 making the eight year program, the model needed an overhaul. Two years after adding youth to the Faculty, in 1968, a month before our two-year College graduation, Msgr. Green announced a major restructuring of the Minor Seminary program.  The three Dioceses of Brooklyn, New York and Rockville Center would merge their three colleges into a single four-year program at Douglaston, NY on Long Island. Our West End Avenue building would be the four-year Cathedral Prep School. Dunwoodie would be the four- year Theology Post Graduate program for all three Dioceses.

In 1992, Cathedral Prep moved to Rye, NY. It closed its doors six years later. Today, Cathedral Prep of Brooklyn continues as the only Minor Seminary in the United States. Bill Poli concludes after 30+ years of teaching at Cathedral that the lack of vocations and financial constraints led to its closure in 1992. Father Gallagher (Dr. J.) was the first class starting in 1943 to attend six full years at the newly relocated 555 WEA. I would be the last in 1968. The destiny of 555? After our Prep left the building, St Agnes HS took possession. In 2016 the Diocese sold the building to a Developer for $55 million. Condos are available if you want an Upper West Side flat.

Historically, degrees were not deemed important to a Diocesan Parish Priest under previous Archbishops. Terrence Cardinal Cooke changed that thinking. Terry Cooke was a New Yorker and a Priest’s Priest. The Bostonian, Francis Cardinal Spellman  reigned as NY Archbishop from 1939 - 1967. (I was back in the choir and sang at Spellman’s Funeral St. Patrick’s Cathedral that day in early December.)  Cooke, Spellman’s secretary, was selected by the Vatican to succeed Spellman. After the 12 years of Cathedral College plus Dunwoodie education, a graduate would earn a BA in Philosophy. I do not know why the next four years post graduate studies did not earn additional degrees like Law or Medicine. It may have to do with the New York State requirements for awarding degrees. That was changing by the late Sixties with Cooke in charge. 

With Cardinal Cooke’s sponsorship, Parish Priests like Father Gallagher would earn an Iona Master’s Degree in Psychology and Pastoral Counseling as the Diocese opened the door to Parish Priests earning post graduate degrees. He would later earn a PhD in Philosophy and a second in Psychology at St John’s. (My life’s partner typed his doctoral dissertation during our first two years of marriage). 

For the next fifty years “Dr. J” was a positive influence in my life. He stayed at St. Paul’s until his retirement in 2010. He was a constant friend, counselor, and listener until his death on the first of April 2016 at 86 years old. He was the man I went to process and grow through change. This would turn out to be my fourth lifelong impacting decision - Iona. Fr. Gallagher had befriended the McCabes at Iona - Hugh the Registrar and Katherine an adjunct Professor.  And they all guided me through the transition and last two years at Iona.

The rest of the story?  Let’s pivot around 1970 and fifty years after 2020.

2020 was to be the year of Jubilee anniversaries and family celebrations.  In 1970, Dona and I were engaged, I graduated from Iona College, joined the Chase Manhattan Bank Credit Development Program, married and started my MBA studies at NYU Stern School of  Business.  Our first of three daughters arrived in 1977 and we relocated to Hong Kong for a four-and-a-half-year career development assignment as Chase Regional Manager.  Two more daughters were made in HK.  We have lived in Berwyn, PA since 1991.  My four-decade banking career ended with MBNA and Bank of America.  Our three daughters’ husbands and families live by.  Our grandchildren are 21, 17, 6 and 3 years old. 

All in all, staying at 555 for two extra years provided me the opportunity to meet on a blind organized by a classmate, my life’s partner.  My daughters now appreciate that decision from 53 years ago.

Gaudeamus Igitur

FOOTNOTE: With assistance from Prep Classmates, here is a recall of our teachers. I will leave it to others to do Fifth- and Sixth-Year Professors. First Year 1B 1962 - 1963 Algebra 1 Msgr Potter, Msgr Green Section 1A Mr Poli Biology Father Hanlon Civics Father Browne English 1 Father Smith Latin 1 Father Griffin Religion 1-4 Father Murphy Second Year 2B English 2 Father Zoshak Ancient History Mr Poli Geometry Father Nebesky Italian 1-3 Father Dennen Latin 2 Father Griffin Section 2A Father Wilkinson Third Year 3A American History Father Cohalan English 3 Fr Oscar Lynch Latin 3 Father Byrne Algebra / Trigonometry Father Nebesky Fourth Year - 1 section with 29 of us?? Chemistry Mr Scotti English 4 Father Oscar Lynch Modern History Father Cohalan Latin 4 Father Byrne