Abbott Harris

I’ve some remembrances from my three years at the “Hill of Happiness” which warm my heart and will no doubt awaken like memories in yours as you read through this. 

Despite having flown in from Saudi Arabia in the Fall of 1961, the oncoming Wisconsin Winter was in no way my first exposure to the sub-zeros.  My father’s work on the construction of Montreal’s oil refinery in the Winter of ’54 was my baptism in arctic-like conditions.  From where our family lived, you could watch the ice breakers plow shipping lanes through the St. Lawrence River.  

A year or so ago I read in some SLS alumni organ that Brother Dismas had passed on to his reward.  From the obit, I learned of his having served in the Korean War as a medic before later joining the OFM Cap.s.  So it was inevitable that he should become the Seminary’s Infirmarian.  But what I never understood was his leading the toboggan charges down through the apple orchards below St. Mary’s Hall every winter; it was as if he were trying to recruit patients for his ward from the lower classmen crazy enough to find joy in crashing along the way…

And then there were the Sunday afternoons spent watching Vince Lombardi’s Packers whop virtually any NFL team that came along-- of course they did it in black & white-- don’t ever remember a color TV during my years on the Hill…  But I remember Bart Starr, Paul Hornung, Jim Taylor, Ray Nitschke, Jesse Whittenton, Max McGee, Herb Adderley, and Elijah Pitts to name a few.

Speaking of sports, who of us can forget the annual pilgrimage to Milwaukee for a Braves game in May?  I believe this was some kind of reward for those who toiled away preparing mailings in Fr. Crispin’s “Loyalty Club” in the Laurentianum basement.  I never spent much time doing that, but it seemed like the whole student body went to the game.  I remember Warren Spahn pitching a rare, not-so-good game one of those three years that I was lucky enough to attend.  I also remember certain seminary mates straying away from their designated seating areas-- as you could, once inside County Stadium-- seems they were more interested in encountering the magic of teenage GIRLS during the brief outing we all enjoyed.  I’ll name no names, but you all know who you were! 

My Sundays were kind of open format since I never had family visiting; the only person I came in contact with was the lady who took in laundry.  I spent the afternoon studying, often squirreling away in my favorite hideaway in the attic over the St. Thomas Hall stage.  There was a small window up there where you could look out over the whole surrounding countryside as far away in one direction as St. Cloud.  Mostly I tried to catch up on my U.S. History text so I could joust with Fr. Ronald, one of my favorite teachers on the faculty.  And though you wouldn’t consider me a Latin scholar, I enjoyed Father [ “O Di Immortalis!” ] Emil’s Third Year Latin class and the Catalinian Orations we had to slog through.  Hell, I even survived Virgil’s Anead in our Senior year, but have no specific recollection of who it was that passed (and/or pitied--) me.

Looking through our ’63 Yearbook-- correct me if I’m wrong, Dan, it was the first one of its kind-- I see numerous references to Rogers & Hart’s “I’d Rather Be Right,” the play we performed in our Senior year.  What puzzles me is that there is no Yearbook reference to the Seminary’s production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore, which we actually “took on the road” to a theater in Fond du Lac.  Maybe that production was later in the year and beyond the publisher’s deadline for the Yearbook.  Any guesses?

Truth be told, I would say that our band (there weren’t any strings to make it an orchestra) was marginally on key and up to tempo-- mostly through the tireless efforts of Eddie DeGroot and Father Myron.  I remember Fr. Myron arranging a trip for us band members to go to Appleton’s Lawrence College to attend the Conservatory’s choral performance of Handel’s Messiah, which was a real Advent treat before we broke for Christmas.

Ah, Christmas breaks, and Easter ones as well.  I traveled by train to St. Louis where I spent the vacation with my brother who was in medical school there at the time.  Lugging my suitcase between stations in Chicago made me feel a little like Holden Caulfield in Catcher in the Rye.  Come to think of it, I don’t believe I ever got Fr. Crispin’s Nihil Obstat to possess-- let alone read-- that book, but read it I did, by the nightlight at the foot of my bed in St. Anthony’s Hall dorm after lights out.  

Just leaving the seminary for an afternoon was a welcome excursion into the outer world.  I remember the “adventure” of walking down the Hill to Mt. Calvary for a dental appointment, or for a cholera booster vaccination before returning to Saudi Arabia for Summer vacation.  And who can forget the trips to Fond du Lac some of us took, with the upperclassman driver having to place the obligatory Colonel Sander’s KFC order to be brought back to the multitude of seminarians placing their orders (remember a lot of seminarians had “food lockers”) in the basement of the Laurentianum.  I don’t think this in any way detracted from the virtuous labor of the Sisters of Christ the King at our Refectory-- I just don’t recall much about the food they prepared, except that it was breakfast, dinner, and supper, not lunch and dinner!  Anyone remember much, or anything, about our food?  All I remember were the army surplus stainless steel trays it was served on.

I recall the beginning construction of the new gymnasium in our Senior year (St. ????’s Hall).  Maybe someone who returned for their fifth year can chime in and tell us about how it handled Hilltopper basketball games or Sunday movie nights as compared to St Joseph’s Hall, which handled both events rather well and had four bowling lanes in its basement!

Speaking of sports, who can forget the annual Field Day events, capped with a faculty/student softball match in which Fr. Vernon invariably hit an out-of-the-park home run; our student team wasn’t that bad-- didn’t Jim Gilgenbach pitch for us?-- but I seem to remember a story about Fr. Vernon turning down a tryout offer from the Pittsburgh Pirates at one time.

But that’s about it for now.  I’d love to hear any of your recollections of what, for me, were three years of my life well spent.