Belmont Abbey College - Spire Yearbook (Belmont, NC)

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DEDICATION We dedicate the 1975 SPIRE to Mr. Michael F. Kenny, a great educator an a true friend. The enthusiasm with which he performs all of his duties as well as activities is commendable. As moderator of the SPIRE he has been an unend- ing source of help and knowledge to the staff. In everything of which he has been a part he has shown a sincere interest in the general welfare of the entire student body. In token of our appreciation of Mr. Kenny, let this SPIRE stand as an expression of our hope for his continued health and happiness. « »

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pu . - Table of Contents Introduction Faculty and Administration 14 Student Life 40 Seniors 72 Publications and Organizations 100 Greeks 114 Athletics 130 Underclassmen 156 Day Students 180 Patrons 188

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Under the Oak I am the Oak. Of old, God ' s Hand hath set me Standing here. Much have I seen, Heard many a tale unfold Around my stem. In clash of arms A nation ' s Youth went by, The trot of horses, the tramp of men in Blue and Grey, Crossed the Catawba and marched by night this way From Mount Holly and on to Richmond Hill, Where some cried: Victory, some lay still. In Peace beneath my arms, When King ' s Mountain was sunset stained with red, And lovers came to make their tryst, perchance to wed: And all unknowing, their secrets shared Unthinking that an old oak kenned or cared. Then came the cross To establish Pax. Though prisoned with the wall of Piedmont clay, I shot aloft to catch the light of day; Growing in their midst with new stability, I gave them arbor and quiet tranquility. Then came the monks. And with them I came to know their chants and hymns, The strange chatter below my limbs, The tolling of the scaring bell, Or solemn stroke of the passing knell. Listener was I, When far below me, Leo, first abbot, spoke Like England ' s Austin ' neath Kentish oak, Faith ' s needs to his little band, Spoke with accents of a foreign land. Watched I often As the compound changed. A Cathedral sprung from a chapel shed, A new wing wooed from the red earth-bed; Sons of Subiaco, Cassino, and Fountains, Builders of Benedict in Piedmont ' s Mountains. I am the oak. Of old God ' s Hand hath set me A witness of a tale half told; I too must take my rest, grow old. My shadow, no longer from the sun, A mark in verse of a tale begun. A mark in verse of a tale begun. Bertrand A. Pattison Oblate of Saint Benedict