St Anselm College - Anselmian Yearbook (Manchester, NH)

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lf? fi fb--5 , SS HITSTQQY HE TIMELESS years have passed and suddenly We are standing in silent re- trospection, contemplating the span of time that has been our college life. And as We do, a picture unfolds before us, a kaleidoscope of things that used to be. . . . In this book are pictures of St. Anselm's today. But in our mind's eye we hold more graphic onesg pictures of Sty Anselm's as we saw it four years ago when first we trod the broken turns of Shirley Hill .... Behind the administration building uprooted pastures awaited the new buildings .... Hilary Hall was still a dream . . . the swimming pool was a compliment to Pocahontas . . . the out- door stations, the shrine, the rock garden lay only half finished . . . and we parked our cars hap-hazardly on the broken pavement of the driveway . . . but we did have the creaky old Watertower . . . and the barn be- side the Studio . . . the ridiculously small caf,' and a one-room library . . . While on the football field the optimistic stands were slowly decaying . . . and cold, dank Con- sumption Hall was our auditorium. We hold clear pictures, too, of faculty members who have since gone . . . likeable Ted McConnon, who coached our teams when O'Connor and Hayes were breaking all frosh records .... We had conscientious Jim Man- ahan for English and casually attired Joe Lovering .... Mr. Sullivan's hilarious chem course and Mr. Vegelante .... Addis Daley's hat, cigar, rubbers, ego, and other curious aberrations .... Father Casimir with and without beard, but always the twinkle. Father Gerald and Dr. Furfee . . . the fabu- lous reputation of Father Bede, and then his tremendously dynamic vitality itself. Then there were those who started with us, stayed long enough to leave lasting im- pressions, then choose new directions .... Fol- lowing religious vocations now are Joe Mul- laney, our Freshman class president, John Connolly, and Joe Silva, he of the naive air and rapier-like wit .... We can still hear the booming laugh of Mort Hickey . . . and re- member the incomparable fjust ask him, Soc Scandalis? . . . Jim Barrett? . . . the in- ternational set: Prince Antoine de Bourbon, Joe Chang, Luis Laguette . . . and later Englebert Kirchner? And the compleat col- legian, Jim Murray? There were upper classmen, too, who couldn't fail to influence us . . . the organi- zers: Fred Battistini, Pat Eagan, the Bropll, Joe Ezyck, Don Jacques . . . the intelligentsia: Joe Ward, Frank Voci, Ed Lareau . . . the athletes: tiny Vin Martley, towering Russ Bastin, Rabitt, Tobin, Duffy, Kilrain, Hes- sion, Brown, Wecal, McKitchen . . . the actors: Walter James, the Reilly Brothers, Walt Bateman. As Freshmen our class was predomi- nantly veterans, the last of the post-war in- flux . . . but not overwhelmingly so . . . the combination of cool headed maturity and youthful enthusiasm gave it the means to progress, founding traditions and setting precedents .... Yet of those first days four years ago, it is the little things that we re- member . . . the first Mountie Social and our introduction to the legend of Hungry Hill . . . our enthusiasm and originality in the frosh election campaigns fwho was that dark horse? J . . . marching in the James O,Neil homecoming parade behind our Drill Instructor, Frank O'Malley .... An unex- pected vacation when a sleet storm disrupted the power. A ire alarm couldn't have cleared the dorms faster . . . and Stupid', the cross-eyed, double-pawed, High Street feline . . . Mr. Bert Colter's gigantic Glee Club, and one beat for nothing . . . our wonderful first retreat with Fr. Keenan Carey, C.P., a lesson in gentle humility . . . the amazing success of the minstrel show . . . the long struggles up the hill in this year of

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the record snowfall .... Spring, and the soft- ball leaguesg Day-hop-resident competition with the Dorm B boys the perennial favorites . . . Fathers Thomas and Herbert were or- dained . . . and then vacation. It wasn't difficult to leaveg there was so much more time. As Sophomores, we came back to find fresh concrete heralding the construction of Hilary Hall . . . now, too, we were accus- tomed to the annual appearance of Bob Sav- age . . . and proud too .... Brother Ildephonse celebrated his Golden Anniversary and we wondered and felt a bit more humble .... Frank Logan winning two prizes in the Stu- dent Relief Drive .... We howled when we were told that we had voted the price of coffee up to a dime . . . and then we failed to contribute enough for a new statue for the newly completed outdoor shrine . . . and Ray Maras made up the difference . . . the residents joyfully moved into Hilary to finish out the year . . . and again June was at hand. . . . We left again and were not sorry, for there were still two years left. Our Junior year opened on a note of sadness with the passing of Brother Ilde- phonse. Eighty-four times we heard the bell strike, as it tolled the age of one whom most of us knew only as a cheery old monk who missed the boys during vacations . this also was the time of the renewed Freshman Orientation programs . . . and the annual retfeat with Father Francis Ryan whose im- pact still echoes in student memories . . . this year the Junior Weekend was our major effort . . . and we made it worthwhile. . . . We left quickly that June for our biggest year still lay ahead. And it was our biggest year . . . in it we had the midas touch . . . activities went off smoothly . . . a new healthy spirit was growing in the underclassmen . . . the basket- ball team gave us our sweetest taste of vic- tory . . . Billy O'Connor set new records . . . We were moving at such a pace that even Korea seemed far away . . . until the reserv- ists began to go . . . and then we heard again the tolling of the bell . . . for Father Hubert, to whom we have dedicated our yearbook. It seemed we were caught in the fluidity of time . . . it was spring already . . . the ac- tivity for graduation . . . The Senior Ban- quet fwhooshlj . . . the Prom . . . our last finals . . . the Alumni Banquet and the Post afterwards .... And then we were sitting in the sun, waiting for our degrees,' only half- listening to the speakers .... And that fin- ished it. And now we can only remember that which we were a part of, such a short time ago . . . the pines humbly accepting layers of careful snow in whispers . . . black capes whipping in the wind, as the monks walked to and fro in all weather . . . a shout on a sunny day . . . an arm gripped in sudden warm comradeship over a cool beer . . . faces half-remembered, rapidly fading . . . the hush of' the monk's cemetery amid the pines . . . the silver bell at consecration. We even hurried away on the last day, because we knew there was no more time . . . and we were afraid we might stop to listen for . . . Foot falls that ecbo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take. 519 ll ogfi' -'Q' J xii' w4 I