Fairfield University - Manor Yearbook (Fairfield, CT)

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Senior Class Histor lt was almost noon when I first saw Xavier Hall on that fateful Autumn day in 1954. Another newcomer was standing there on North Benson Road squinting up at the building, Al, he said his name was, and as we shook hands I realized that I wasn't the only stranger here at Fairfield. There were a lot of other newcomers, too, and we were all young, tanned from the summer sun, and eager to meet the challenge of college life. l'm a little scared, Al confessed as we made our way into the maze of corridors, blank forms, and smiling wel- comes that were our first impression of Xavier Hall. But he was smiling broadly when we emerged a little later, slightly dazed, but now officially Freshmen of Fairfield University. Still feeling a flush of excitement, we made our way down to our new kingdom, the Cafeteria, a kaleidoscope of smiling faces, friendly hand-shakes, and brightly-colored booths planned to entice young Freshmen into joining extra-curricular activities. Later Al beamed proudly. Guess what! he said. I just joined seventeen clubs, including the N.F.C.C.S.! What's that? I dunno, but it must be pretty important! And then school began, and our formal introduction to the Ratio Studiorum. Wow, what a history teacher l've got! Al cried en- thusiastically. I can't pronounce his name but he's fun- nier than Milton Berle! Don't be too sure of yourself, Buddy, I cautioned. Wait till you get his first exam. Well, the first exam came, and the first disillusionment. Al sat in a corner of the Cafeteria looking a little shell- shocked. Well, how was the exam?'! I asked. Don't talk about it, he answered, a little shakily. I'm gonna drown my troubles in a coke! We met many unforgettable characters that first year. English students were brain-washed by Father O'Calla- han, Mr. Riel, and grey-maned Father Bonn, who played -singlehanded-Romeo, Juliet, the Nurse, and about half the population of Verona, and was terrific in every role. Some of us made our way into the political arena: Stan Sytka, Sal Gilbertie, Fran Doherty, and Stan Bartnik were our Student Council representatives. We had our athletes, too: Ken Felsmann, Tom Callan, and Brian Rogers were scoring aces of the Frosh basketball team. And a new secret society was formed: The Birdwatchers, they were called, in whispers, and the more elite of our class, Bill Doyle, Gordie Willard, and Gerry Gingras were initiated, and assured us that it wasn't a new Masonic order, though they seemed a little bleary-eyed from the initiation cere- mony. That hrst year ran swiftly by, and Al and I began to settle into the ways of college life in general and Fairfield in particular. You know, Al said to me one moming, It's too bad Mrs. Brady is already married. I've got a crush on her-that Irish charm and that coffee. What a combination-wow! I guess we all felt pretty much the same way, with our affections divided between Mrs. May and Mrs. Watkyns, who sort of adopted all of us. And there were opportunities in all directions. For the budding Carusos and Lanzas there was a Glee Club to compare with the finest in the country. And for those who loved controversy, well, there was the famed Blazer Issue. For some reason we picked as color fire-engine red, and Al and I were among the first to buy them. A week later we were mistaken for ushers in a Fairfield theater. One day Al turned to me with a rather surprised ex- pression on his face and said: Hey! We're sophomores! It was true. Somehow a year and a summer had passed, and we all developed a new-found maturity and savoir- faireg some of us were smoking pipes and even wearing vests. And-how could we forget-we were introduced to two striking members of the English department: Mr. Ed- munds, a sort of intellectual Mickey Rooney, and Mr. Meaney, who seemed to be a combination of Barry Fitz- gerald and Attila the Hun, and had a phobia against white bucks and students who talked like Maxie Rosen- bloom. This time we entered politics with all the enthusiasm and spirit of a rodeo, and out of the jumble of campaign posters and speeches four men emerged victorious: Bill Doyle, our first and very capable President, Paul Nagy, Vice-President, Pete McGovern, Secretary, and Howie Hickey, Treasurer. But they weren't the only politicians: Jim Masterson, Sal Gilbertie, and Fran Doherty were our Student Council representatives. Sophomore year was filled with isolated incidents that somehow fitted together in a colorful jigsaw puzzle both scholastic and social. It was the year that Tom Squires and the entire Knights of Columbus challenged Mr. Meaney's Irish ire, and even now it's hard to say who won that battle of principles. It was the year of the glorious St. Patrick's Day Parade, when even Italian and Polish students burned with zeal for the Old Sod and tramped proudly down Fifth Avenue with Fairfield ban- ners fiying. It was the year that the Glee Club made their first recording for R.C.A. Victor, and we all agreed that they made beautiful music together. It was the year of the touching Flowers for Father Shanahan gesture of the resident students. And this unforgettable year drew to a close in a blaze of fellowship and camaradarie in the testimonial dinners for Mr. Meaney and Mr. Edmunds, and as Al and I stumbled joyously home, he mumbled happily, It's been some year, hasn't it?

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l li . lift' el o FRANCIS H. DOHERTY l48 Wall Street Meriden. Connecticut B.S.S. Government Senior Class President: Sodality l.2,3,4g Student Council 1.2.41 Stag 3.4: Central Connecticut Area Club l,2.3,4g Democratic Club 2. Foreign Rela- tions Club 2g Freshman Orientation Chairman 33 Sociology Club 23 Winter Carnival Committee 4. CLASS OFFICER gh STEPHEN J. KELLY 48 Ramona Avenue Waterbury. Connecticut B.S.S. Ezllaruliort Senior Class Vice-President: Sodality l.2.3.-ll Presidents Advisory Board 41 Debating Society l.2: Education Club 2.3.41 German Club l.2: Sociology Club 1.2: Student Education Associa- tion of Connecticut. Delegate 3: Vice-President 4: Veteran's Club 3.41 Waterbury Club l.2.3.-1. y . -qi an-0-1 CHARLES W. WILLIAMS ROBERT A. HUGHES 24 June Avenue I4 Slonybrook Road Norwalk, Connecticut Fairfield. Connecticut B.S. Physics B.B.A. Bu.t'ir1e.s.t Senior Class Secretary: President's Advisory Class Secretary 4: Glee Club 33 Aquinas Acad- Board 4g Aquinas Academy 43 German Club 1.2: emy 4: Bridgeport Area Club 2.3.41 Business Club Math-Physics Club l,2,3,4g Norwalk Area Club 2. Debating Society 4g Junior Prom Committee l,2,3,4. 2.3: Winter Carnival Committee 2.3.4. 25

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But the best was yet to come. Junior year rolled in on a glowing Autumn afternoon and brought with it a crowd of nervous but eager Freshmen who brought back mem- ories to the mature sages of the Junior Class, and our Freshman Orientation Committee, headed by Fran Do- herty, stretched out a hand of welcome. The capacity crowds at Sullivan's that night assured us that our wel- coming campaign had been a rousing success. But as a class we were much too busy to bask in the glory of our acomplishments. We elected Mike Rossi our President, and he proved to be a tireless worker, as did Charley Conway, our Vice-President, Bob Berardi, our Treasurer, and Jack Weiss, our Secretary. This was the year that we all became philosophers. Father Sullivan introduced us to some chorus girls named Barbara Celarent and Darii Ferio, and Al tried unsuc- cessfully to organize a Suarez Fan Club, complete with beanies, membership buttons, and an autographed picture of Immanuel Kant. The social season began in a glitter of bright lightsand stardust, and culminated in a dazzling Winter Carnival weekend, in which Ralph Marcarelli and Jim Masterson subsittuted Jewish folk-dancing for the traditional ice- carvings. Ed Reynolds served as chairman for our long- awaited Junior Prom, and it was an evening well worth waiting for. Camel Quinn, the Irish charmer of the Arthur Godfrey program, entered Long Shore Country Club es- corted by a red-nosed leprechaun in a Fairfield blazer. Her charming rendition of When Irish Eyes Are Smiling was a fitting climax to an evening of music, moonglow, and just plain magic. That night all eyes were really smiling. It was a year, too, filled with miscellaneous memories. A minor tragedy occurred when the ping-pong table dis- appeared from the Cafeteria, and for weeks Father Far- rington roamed restlessly about the Cafeteria, seeking some outlet for his nervous energy. The last of our ideals was shattered when Mr. Riel bought a television set. Pete Baldetti's successful life at Fairfield reached a turning point when he was named Editor of the Manor, and Bill Keish and Paul Nagy received a well-deserved accolade when they were named co-editors of the Stag. There was a near riot in the Cafeteria one Friday when Mrs. Brady tried to make chowder out of Father Small's prize sailfish. The scholastic year ended in a thrill-a-minute Comedy of Errors staged by the budding philosophers of the Junior Class, and we did our best to entertain interrogators with- out benefit of script or background music. Most of us succeeded. Another summer passed and, it seemed, before we had even recovered from the rigors of our last final exams, we were starting a new year. But this time it was different. This time we were Seniors. It was a wonderful year. We began it with a glow of pride, not only because we were' Seniors, but because Fairfield had grown along with us. Canisius and Gonzaga Halls had grown up almost miraculously during the sum- mer. The Manor and the Stag moved from the old oflicc in Xavier to luxurious suites in Gonzaga Hall, leaving hc- hind them poignant mcmentoes in the form of old coke bottles, slightly used doughnuts, assorted paper bags and cartons, and holes in the wall created by hard-headed philosophers. New officers were at the helm of our class: Fran Doherty was our Presidentg Steve Kelly, our Vice- Presidentg Charley Williams, our Secretary, and Boh Hughes, our Treasurer. The Student Council began an- other eventful year under the leadership of Bill Doyle. Senior year sped by in a blur of social and scholastic excitement. Father Clancy and Father O'Brien introduced us to the stimulating world of Ethics, Father Mullin, re- plete with dry wit and deep respect for Dr. Hans Dreisch and his gang, opened up the fascinating world of Psy- chology to us. Senior year was the year in which everything seemed more significant, even the little things took on a special glow: Mrs. Bradyis coffee seemed more delicious, Mrs. May's smile even warmer, the Professors friendlier and wiser, the exams tougher, and even the parking lot seemed a special place, except for snowy days, when it resembled Nome, Alaska. This was the year of Senior retreat, when Father Bonn electrified us with his recounting of Christ's passion and the significance that it held for all of us. This year the Winter Carnival had a special magic for us, a magic created by the hard work of Chairman Emile Cote and by our own eager, receptive spirit. The Long Shore Country Club was once more the elegant set- ting for a dazzling formal dance set against a background of frost and ice and warmth and laughter. Jack Kelley, Chairman of the Formal, assured us awonderful evening, and the whole weekend, too, was unforgettable, particu- larly the blinding snowstorm that climaxed the festivities. We all agreed that the Winter Carnival had been appro- priately named. And final exams came, a formidable obstacle, it seemed, and all the more so because these would be the last for us. We emerged victorious, somehow, and even the Senior Orals-fifteen terrifying minutes of philosophical questions and stammering answers-couldn't stop us. Then came Senior Week, and with not only a fun-filled picnic and a memorable ball, but also a time to gather all the precious memories of days of scholastic, social. and athletic accomplishment, and just plain fun. And then came Graduation Day in a haze of pride and triumph and sorrow, too. After it was all over I shook hands with Al. So longj' he said. It's been great, hasn't it? So long, Al, I said. There was nothing else to say. And as I drove away down North Benson Road, I looked back for a moment and I could see Xavier Hall looming above the treetops, gleaming in the sun. And somehow, it was like leaving an old friend.