NEWSFLASH - Marcel Wagner killed in Florida - services Wed Jan 18 - 9:30 St Catherine's, Spring Lake
This project revives a Jersey City based newsletter from the late '50s/early '60s, and is dedicated to John White, Bobby Rey and Badd Ladd - holding a spot at the bar for us at that big Joe Crine's in the sky.
In the hackneyed words of the old time comic - "I am happy to be here ..... as a matter of fact I am happy to be anywhere!" - Never more than in 2011 did those words ring so true. During the last year we lost an inordinate number of our comrades but at least you and I are still here to carry on and continue to document our past social history and even expand on our accomplishments in this coming year.
Our Christmas Card this year is from Danny Beards and for those of you viewing it on line it is a slide show of his New York City Christmas scenes put to music. (also- see last issue - Danny has updated and re mastered his Jersey City - Hometown video and it makes a nice stocking stuffer for any JC ex-pat)
Speaking of the last issue it is slowly progressing toward completion and is linked on top of this page. You will also be notified when it is ready for printing and finalized.
MERRY CHRISTMAS and all that that has come to mean - a wish for peace and happiness in the coming year and a time to appreciate our blessings. .........................................Jedsey
The JJ announced the award winners for 2011 with top honors going to Leon Gast as the Jedsey Journal Man of the Year and Joe Jankoski wins the writing award for the article he wrote about Mile Rooney which evoked more feedback and interest than any previous article to appear on these pages.. During this past year Leon Gast had been an Oscar nominee, a Lifetime Award winner at the initial Jersey City Film Festival as he worked toward completion of his latest film about boxer Manny Pacquiao. In January he will attend his friend Mohamed Ali's 70th birthday party and is now producing a short film of career highlights for the occasion.
Three new members will be inducted into our Hall of Fame - they are Ed "The Faa" Ford, Moe Haber and Danny Waddleton. All of these above mentioned honors will be officially recognized at ceremonies to be held during Badd Ladd Day on March 13th.
The story of the year for 2011 has to be the ongoing saga of the many deaths that occurred to our friends and families during 2011 and the photo of the year shown above was a national news photo that caught Robbie at the critical moment during the Knick - Celtic Playoff game.
The Dickinson High School class of 1961 had 175 guests attend their 50 year reunion held at the Liberty House in Liberty State Park Former classmates returned to their hometown from all over the US from as far away as Florida and California with Tony Monaco returning from his home in Italy via his home in North Carolina.
Lincoln High School Class of January, 1960 held their reunion on Saturday, October 15, 2011, at Piccolo’s Restaurant in Kinnelon, New Jersey. Twenty classmates attended and with spouses there were a total of 32 people. The restaurant had ambiance, the food was delicious and plentiful, and best of all the people attending were friendly and truly enjoyed talking to other classmates, many whom they haven’t seen in over 51 years! Several people commented on how lucky we were to have graduated with such nice people.
Some of the classmates attending traveled a distance. We had people from New Jersey, North Carolina, Ohio, Virginia, New York, Florida, Pennsylvania, Utah, and Texas attending. Several commented that it was truly worth the trip!!!!!!
There were 45 of us in the Class of '82 and with some guests for a total of 70. Most people who came live in NJ. One came from Florida and another from CA. It was held at Michael Anthony's on the Newport pier. Only Mr. Radner, the guidance counselor, came although other teachers were invited. There was a DJ playing 80's music. Everyone had a great time based on the pictures and comments that were posted on the class Facebook.
The St. Aloysius High School Alumni Association held their annual Hall of Honor Luncheon at the Casino-in-the-Park on October 2, 2011. This year's honorees were Catherine Duncan Dziuba, '63, Anthony Guadadiello, '67, John Edward Hamberg, '56, Dorothy Lau, '51, Rev. Msgr. Joseph Masiello, '62, Mary Beth Ray Simone, '74, and Sister Mary Ellen Verdon, '54. John J. Hallanan, '56 introduced the honorees and Janet LaForge, '52, Alumni President offered a few remarks. Rev. Frank McNulty delivered the closing prayer which was followed by the singing of the school song. It was a beautiful day filled with memories for all in attendence.
Last year Danny Lamego had his last ever Christmas Party at the Casino in the Park in Jersey City but that didn't signal the final note from this ageless performer who has been entertaining us for 60 years. This year there was a tribute party held at the Shore Casino in Highlands and there was Danny and the Jumping Jacks back in action again and playing sets for 350 of the faithful - most of whom recall the original Jumping Jacks from the Molinari days. And just in case you didn't remember there was a tribute room set up with wall to wall clippings and photos going back to where it all started when Danny who neither sang nor played an instrument joined up with fellow service man Paul Comi and became an entertainer for the Army in Japan. If you missed any of this you can still see and hear Danny and the Jumpin Jacks every Saturday night at the Diamond Springs Country Club in Nutley where he is better than ever as he performs in a room that appears to have been made for him.
The Holiday season is a perfect time to catch up with old friends who we do not see very often during the year. Frankie Failace asked Jed to come along on a visit to his lifelong friend Mike Shanley in an assisted living situation in Highlands NJ and then the pair picked up Mike and they all drove over to see their Lincoln High school class mate George Tardiff who is also in assisted living in Brick NJ.
The mother of another Lincoln HS friend Bob Woerner is the oldest surviving class parent from their 1954 class, so Jed visited 94 year old Dorothy Woerner in Edison and brought along her former care giver Polish Maria and her son Conrad. Mrs. Woerner is the oldest Jedsey Journal reader and her long term memory has provided several references for our articles. On this trip she recalled that Jed had brought her a "delicious pound cake" on the previous so a second visit had to be made later to deliver an Entenmanns's cake.
Pete Ilvento is now living in a senior building in Bergen County while his brother Charlie is in an assisted living facility in Tinton Falls (Monmouth County). The brothers had been frequent dinner companions over the years but both had lost their wives within the past few months so Jed helped Uncle Pete visit Uncle Charlie. Charlie's "assisted living" is more like an Atlantic City Resort hotel and instead of going out to eat, Charlie hosted the meal at one of the many dining rooms in the facility. He was feisty and does not seem to have aged in 50 years not to mention that his kid brother Pete looks 10 years younger than when he retired as a restaurateur 10 years ago. In another case of "2 degrees of Jersey City" - Dorothy Woerner had once been in Charlie's West End Manor where Charlie mistook her for her younger sister, Mimi Johnson, who was his classmate at Dickinson HS.
Former St Peter's College Assistant coach Kevin Simmons is now an Assistant Coach in Oklahoma and he returned to town to close his apartment here and also was able to meet up with his former St Anthony's team mate Terry Dehere. Kevin also asked Jed for help in publishing a book he wants to write and Jed suggested connecting with Jerry McGrellis in Dayton Ohio. When contacted, Jerry said he would be glad to help and (2 degrees again) he also recalled that Kevin and he had been sparring partners when they both had been stationed at Homestead Air Force Base.
This year Dr Lou Brown was honored by Florida State University as the Distinguished Educator of the Year.
Lou is now a retired Professor Emeritus from the University of Wisconsin where he not only taught education but he instilled the unique ideas of his program into thousands of teachers and his theories which were once thought of as radical are now generally accepted. He is a world renowned authority on learning disabilities and believes that there should be no special schools.
Lou said it all goes back to his Masters Degree program in Eastern Carolina U when he was dealing with children who were previously categorized as un teachable - he said something clicked and he developed a method to get through to these children and it has been all uphill ever since. He developed a program and moved to Florida State University where he earned his PHD before heading to the School of Education at U of Wisconsin where he became a legend and changed thousands of lives for the better as parents brought their children from all over the country to participate in his program.
The first ever Golden Door International Film Festival had its opening party and awards ceremony at the historic Loews Theater in Journal Square. During the four day festival there were showings, seminars and parties at many other artistic venues around town. Although this project was over a year in the planning there were times when it seemed unlikely to succeed but GDIFF founder and President Bill Sorvino would not sway from his dedication and his commitment to develop a successful film festival for Jersey City. He was able to draw on the expertise of some talented people on his boards and in the end he directed and produced and event worthy of an Oscar.
Speaking of an Oscar one of the Lifetime Achievement Awards was given to Director, Leon Gast who is the only Jersey City native to ever win an Oscar- (When We Were Kings - 1996). Actor, Paul Sorvino who has amassed a huge body of work was the recipient of the other Lifetime Achievement Award and fittingly he too lived in Jersey City for a period of time.
Of the numerous films that were submitted from local sources and other sources all over the world, the best were selected and nominated in various categories and of those the winners were chosen. Director, Sam Borowki's "Night Club", which received awards earlier this year at the Staten Island Film Festival, won the greatest number of awards. There is a complete list of films and awards in the link below as well as a nice slide show of photos from the festival. Also there will be a Best of the Fest showing of the Award Winning Films on March 24 at the Arts House - also see the website below for details.
College Basketball this year has everything going for it. The East is riding high after last year's showing and the competition will be better than ever because the NBA work action has kept many of the best players in college instead of opting for the draft. This will all come down to a Final Four weekend in none other than New Orleans and this year more of our friends intend to be there for the games and the annual Maguire U final Five party than any year since the late Ed Bowler led his posse on some of these trips.
The fun is already underway and some of the Eastern teams are right in the mix. U Conn again looks strong and this year's Harvard squad has the man power to advance in the big dance. Locally St Peter's is rebuilding after last year's MAAC Championship and one of their big hopes has just left the program (see Ciao Gaetano). Seton Hall is in the tough Big East but they have a few long term players who will keep them respectable and carry the hopes of their main fan Vinny Zingara whose dream it would be to have them along with him when he goes to New Orleans at the end of March, Vinny started off the year with Seton Hall at the Charleston tournament where they made a good showing. Also meeting up at those games were some other locals including Bob O'Connor, Fr McNulty, Marty Walsh and Rich Kaminski. Fr McNulty and Vinny Zingara were there again in December for the annual Seton Hall St Peters game at the Rock in Newark and they will probably be along on several Seton Hall road trips this winter.
It was most probably culture shock but the touted 6 10" kid from Italy, who was the subject of an article in the last JJ, has opted to drop out of Saint Peters College and return to Naples. Gaetano's Spera's family and friends had visited him here during the season and were planning a long Christmas visit when he pulled the plug on everything and decided to return to his homeland. The school officials said they would keep his scholarship open for him to think about it over the holidays but he felt he would not be returning.
Timing is everything and perhaps if Gaetano had come during the 1930's when we had 30,000 Italian immigrants living in this town he would have felt more at home. Also Rich Kaner who found Spera had a second prospect in Italy who he was trying to package with Gaetano but the process started late and that player eventually turned pro rather than wait for academic clearance to be accepted in this country.
Here is the schedule for this year which will have over 30 D1 boys and over 10 ranked players in their class. Additionally, the girls game will pit two top 5 teams in the State in North Hunterdon and DePaul Catholic (coached by Ron Harper's wife).
We are all aware of Kyle Anderson (National top 3) and the rest of the Friars but google Aquille Carr from Patterson HS in Baltimore, who, as a junior has already done some amazing things. He is being compared to Muggsy Bogues (Baltimore), Spud Webb, a "fast" Allen Iverson, and even Calvin Murphy of JC Armory fame. Carr put over 13,000 fans into the U. of Maryland Field House for the State championship game last year as a sophmore.
We also have a revamped St. Benedict's team and State top 4 Teaneck and top 10 Linden along with Prep, North Bergen and a very athletic and entertaining team from Toronto. Look for Nationally ranked seniors Anderson, Neville Fincher (Teaneck), and Melvin Johnson (St. Ben's), juniors Carr, Josh Brown (St. Ant), Hallice Cooke (St. Ant.), Myrek Fowlkes (Patterson), and Tyler Ennis (St. Ben's), soph Quadri Moore (Linden) and Trevis Wyche (St. Peter's), and Frosh sensation Isiah Briscoe (St. Ben's).
JERSEY CITY ARMORY JC Police /Hoboken FD vs J. C. Firemen--1100am North Hunterdon HS vs DePaul Catholic --12:30pm (Girls) Linden H. S. vs North Bergen H. S. -- 2:15pm (Boys) Patterson HS(Baltimore) vs St. Benedict’s Prep -- 4:00pm (Boys) St. Anthony vs St. Peter’s Prep -- 5:45pm (Boys) Next Level Prep (Toronto)vsTeaneck H. S.7:30pm(Boys)
Rob spent his first night back in Massachusetts at the Harvard campus where he visited some of the friends he has there dating back to his Harvard Summer school days. He spent most of the rest of the time studying back on the Medford campus of Tufts University and again did very well. He was only home for a few days at Thanksgiving and spent a few days off campus visiting his cousin Mike at New Hampshire U. He has an on campus job taking care of the gym and spends some time mentoring a local 8 year old who needs a Big Brother (or does Rob miss not having a little Brother?) In any case 6 year old Conrad Sikorski came up for a visit and Robbie showed him around the Jumbo's campus (including the life size statue of the school mascot); the Witch Town of Salem; and Historic Boston and Plymouth.
Robbie reported that this year the school squashed the annual naked run before winter break so the students protested by doing an excessively over dressed stroll which included people in multiple overcoats as well as some wearing evening gowns and formal wear.
After a short vacation for the holidays Robbie will spend the rest of his winter break in the Central American country of El Salvador where he will work to implement a water purification project that his group has designed for Engineers Without Borders. Then it is back to school for the Spring Semester and (hard to believe!) he will be half way home on his degree.
In the late '60s, songwriter Steve Friedland (aka performer Brute Force) sold a song called "King of Fuh" to the Beatles. But then the BBC heard the words and drew the line about playing songs about a Fuh King so Brute Force recorded the song himself on the Apple record label. Last month a 45 rpm original recording of this song was auctioned off on E-Bay where it sold for over $4,300.
The JEDSEY JOURNAL has learned that Steve did not have a retirement plan but he did have 401 King of Fuh records stored in his basement which he refered to as his 401 K plan and now it is projected that he will auction off one of the remaining 400 records every few months.
Every Holiday Season we like to share our Christmas Mail with you. These items usually include end of year update letters from remote friends; family portrait photos and the unique Christmas cards from some of our creative readers. Click on the link below to see a compendium of these items.
I would sincerely appreciate this photo being included in your newspaper. Some of the members of "The Shooting Stars" a group of local JC women fundraising Against Cancer, are collecting toys for distribution for the Valerie Fund Children's Center at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center. From Left to Right...Edis Sanchez, Wanda Rios, Carmen Negron and Miriam Prosper Thank you Sonia Araujo (also a member of the Shooting Stars)
Thousands of the faithful have been making their final pilgrimage to Delorenzo's Pizza in the Chambersburg section of Trenton after it was announced that the favorite pizza palace of many NJ residents will be closing in mid January. It was only a year ago that DeLorenzo's was contesting the title of oldest Pizza joint in the country with Lombardi's in Manhattan because Lombardi's closed for a period after opening in 1905 and DeLorenzo's had been open continuously since 1947.
Also earlier this year DeLorenzo's was hiring police to watch out for the patrons waiting outside to get in, so that is probably a clue as to the real reason that they are leaving this formerly Italian neighborhood. One thing that won't be missed is the lack of restrooms because this place had been built before they were required in a NJ restaurant.
An interesting side bar to a visit to DeLorenzo's was the abandoned Roeblng Cable plant on the next block - it was here that all the cable for the Golden Gate Bridge was manufactured. Roebling had wanted to make all the cable for the Brooklyn Bridge here but Tammany Hall was doling out those contracts to friends who Roebling knew would supply an inferior product so that is why he used an unheard of safety factor of 8 and came up with such a bulky looking suspension bridge.
DeLorenzo's say they will take a year off before opening a new restaurant somewhere in Pennsylvania ........ They may well be following the demographic shift of their former clientele because a large portion of the Burg has already relocated to the Keystone State.
Hi I am Ali Dimatteo - I am Jed's niece and godchild and you may have read about some of my exploits in the the JEDSEY JOURNAL - well my latest venture will be to run the Boston Marathon to uphold a family tradition started by my father, Peter Dimatteo. On April 16, I will be running in the Boston Marathon. I am raising funds for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) as a participant in their Team In Training program. I'm asking you to help by making a donation to my fundraising campaign. I am running in honor of my grandmother, Mary Dimatteo, my Uncle Jack (Jed) and the six other family members who have had lymphoma or leukemia. My father, Peter Dimatteo, has run seven Boston Marathons for this same charity. I will be following in his footsteps and carrying on this new Dimatteo tradition. I am very happy to do it!!! Team in Training has set a goal for each runner to raise $4,000 by the 31st of January. Thanks to so many of my family and friends, I have raised $2000 so far. I want to ask if you would help me by making a donation. Online, you can make a secure donation to my Paycore account set up by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. You will receive a confirmation through e-mail of your donation. You could also, if you prefer, donate by check, payable to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, and mail it to: A. Dimatteo, 339 Standish Street Duxbury MA 02332. If you provide your telephone number with your check, I can be sure to call and let you know that I have received it. Please use the below link to view my page and donate online quickly and securely to my Paycore account. Again, you will receive a confirmation of your donation by email, and I will be notified as soon as you make it.
Each donation helps accelerate finding a cure for leukemia, lymphoma and myeloma. Nearly 958,000 Americans are battling these blood cancers. I am hoping that my participation in Team In Training will help bring them hope and support. On behalf of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, thank you very much for your support. I greatly appreciate your generosity. Thank you, Alexandra DiMatteo
Lately I've been hitting the reference books hard because I of some loose ends to tie up before I go to Japan for more interviews. I am looking to the back story of some of the folks that worked at Pan Am after the loss of the Hawaii Clipper to verify some claims. I continue work on the project and should be done filming in February with another trip to Micronesia.
Good news. I have connected with Frank Choy, Martin's brother and he gave me some photos of his father, Watson's brother. Woohooo! :-)
I'm shooting Pauquiao press conf on tuesday Sept 6, than interviews after. Pacquiao will be going back to the Philippines to start training for his next fight Nov 7 at MGM Grand in LV. - - this latest news of Mayweather's jail term for domestic problems means their fight cannot come off this year and clears the path for me to wrap up my efforts by a March deadline.
Each year we have some gift suggestions for anyone you know who likes to remember Jersey City. This year the Landmarks Conservancy Calendar has Mom and Pop businesses as their theme. (see more and purchase through the link below)
Two other Jersey City related items were reviewed in the previous issue of this newsletter. They include Peter Healy's first novel "Vengence is Sacred" about an Italian immigrant who flees to Jersey City to escape Mafia retribution and Dan Beards' completly re mastered and updated video "Jersey City - Memories of my Hometown" - You can also purchase these items via the respective link below,
The legitimate news media is finding more and more that our Jedsey gang makes for good copy. Here we review some recent news articles which show some familiar figures. If you happen to see any like these in your local papers please send them along and share them with the rest of us.
Little Conrad Sikorski who idolizes Robbie and loves American History got the best of both worlds when he visited Rob and toured Tufts University Campus with him in Medford Mass and then spent the rest of the weekend touring the Witch Town of Salem, the Historic area of Boston where he met up with some Minutemen who were in a Columbus Day Parade and then met Jed's niece Olivia and the pair visited Plymouth Rock and other historic Pilgrim sites. Back in New Jersey, Conrad dressed as Capt America for Halloween. And he knew all about the History of Thanksgiving when his First Grade class came to that holiday, but he trekked down to Trenton in December to take a kid's tour** that told about the Battle of Trenton where his hero George Washington turned the tide in the War for Independence. - - When Leon Gast came to town for the Jersey City Film Festival he had wanted to meet up with his old friend from Snyder HS, Jack Schaefer who was out of town when Leon first arrived but the pair had an accidental meeting on the waterfront where Jack bought brunch for the group at Michael Anthony's. - - Joseph Ilvento III took his amie Evelyne for a Canadian Cruise** on the Evelyne Princess and then the Pair met up again after the Holidays to spend the winter at Evelyne's home in Nice. - - Marie Laski threw herself a 75th Birthday** party held in the same Country Club and room in Summit where Dr Joseph Ilvento's daughter Juliana had her engagement party a few months earlier. - - October Fest at Zeppelin Hall in Jersey City has become quite an attraction. Tom Gaynor and Bill Sorvino met up with owner Peter Mocco** during the festivities and also recalled that Tom's wife Nancy had been Bill's grammar school teacher and that Tom had been a member of a card game at Bill's grandparent's home during that time. - - The annual Fall Book Fair that the Jersey City Library holds in Van Vorst park each year featured JEDSEY JOURNAL Award winning writer Tom Belton** doing a reading from his latest book. - - Tom Bragan is in so many organizations that it is hard to tell what meeting he is attending but I believe it was a Rotary group that he was addressing at the Casino in the Park with a talk about the White House that he then took on the road and delivered to several other groups. - - Sadly the current wave of deaths kept coming and most notably Mary Ilvento passed away suddenly this fall. Only a few month's earlier Pete Ilvento's older brother Charles had also lost his wife of many years. Mary was well known and loved to many JJ readers and numerous condolences were sent to this address from around the country to be relayed to the family. Others who passed away during this period included Joe Gulbin, Jim Hackett (brother in law to George Blaney) and Jim Lundy a great friend from Jed's working days in NYC. - - Jed got bored at the play "Follies" and was reading the program during the Intermission only to come across the name of friend Ashley Horne** as a member of the Orchestra - he ran down to the Orchestra Pit and they met for coffee after the show. - - Jugger and Melanie Donnelly decided to put the money they usually spend on Christmas presents for each other to an even more meaningful use and they donated it to a charity in their church which collected enough money to build several wells for a poor community in Kenya. - - Little Nicky San Inocencio** was not quite as charitable but he loves his new Roller Skates that Santa brought him. - - - - Next year we're going to have to put our a Girls of Jedsey Calendar. There is a fantastic photo of Paula LaCobera** on her Health and Beauty website. - - Ade Makinde quickly sold out a dozen copies of his Frankie DePaula book at a London Boxing Memorabilia Fayer but the more amazing thing was that he met a guy there who was a Hudson County native ** - just one more case of the "2 degrees.."
* * = view photo related to this item in attached link below
Readers were asked to look at the photo below and come up with an actual caption or a phony caption that would be good enough to fool others. Try your luck at picking out who came the closest.
I have a confession to make. I love parades. Like George M. Cohan, I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, even though I wasn't born on the 4th of July. I love the music of marching bands, dogs sitting at attention, little kids cheering and old folks clapping. I've been involved in more than a few parades over the years. I created and directed the nationally televised Bicentennial parade in the nation's capital. Designed a Rose Bowl parade float. Produced the TV script for the parade of states before the dedication of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington. To name just a few. Each parade was special. Yet one parade stands out in my memory because it was the first parade I ever saw and marched in. It also was the most original. Best of all, it was a parade that almost every guy and gal who grew up in Jersey City remembers. And that's what makes this parade so special.
The Second Sunday in October always was a grand day in Jersey City in the late 1940s and 50s of my youth. Only one event held center stage. Everything else came to a halt, even the high school football games, then more popular than the National Football League. No football games were played anywhere in the city or county that day. Instead, tens of thousands lined neighborhood streets to cheer old, middle-age, young men and teenage boys marching by in their Sunday best.
My older sister, Bernadette, remembers that Sunday as "the most magnificent day in the fall." Miraculously it never rained. Not even when the local bookies and weather forecasters bet it would. Everyone knew God would not let it rain, at least between noon and 5:30 pm. And they were right!
On that Sunday afternoon, we celebrated our common heritage in the spectacular style of St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Sadie Hawkins Day, Armistice Day and Thanksgiving, all rolled into one. It was a party day as single men and women, twenty-one and over, flooded the Fairmont Hotel lounge and Casino in the Park, and teenagers packed the La Petite, Lees, Sugar Bowl and other ice cream parlors near Lincoln Park and around Journal Square.
It was Easter on parade. Single women and teenage girls bought new matching outfits of coats, pocketbooks, gloves and shoes along with a fedora hat for the occasion; the single women checking out the eligible bachelors and the teenage girls inspecting the high school boys, as the fellows and young lads, in suits and ties, strutted by the same site on the same afternoon.
Bitter political rivals called a cease fire for twenty-four hours and actually walked side by side together. And as Fr. Frank McNulty fondly recalls, "St. Al's grads would come back for the big day." So did many other school and neighborhood friends, as well as family members and relatives from outlying suburbs and the Jersey shore.
National champion drum and bugle corps, military bands, Irish bagpipers, the famous "Hatters" in cowboy outfits, boots and ten gallon hats, ethnic musical groups and top notch bands from New York, Philadelphia and Connecticut would thrill the overflow crowds lining the sidewalks, as each band led happy fathers and sons, uncles and brothers, classmates and neighborhood pals down Hudson Boulevard into Lincoln Park where the crowds stood ten to fifteen rows deep.
Smiling kids would wave wildly and shout in shrill voices, "Hey, that's my Pop!" catching their father's eye as he proudly marched by, on the way past the reviewing stand, filled with prominent clergy and local dignitaries.
Vendors would sell out a month's supply of hot dogs, soda pop, ice cream bars and popsicles by late afternoon, as hundreds of hungry and thirsty kids with dollars in hand swarmed the push carts along the Lincoln Park homestretch. Amazingly, only a handful of little children got lost that day, wandering away from their mother's or sister's distracted hands, in search of a squirrel to chase or a flower to explore.
That was only the beginning of the most unusual parade in America. It was not the typical American parade where bands played patriotic songs. It went back further in time, to the Crusades in the Middle-Ages in Europe when men from different cities and countries came together, wearing the sign of the cross on their armored chests.
Instead of axes, swords and bows and arrows, the Jersey City marchers who came from every corner of the 15 square mile city carried a triangular blue pennant flag with the Greek letters IHS (which no one except the priests understood), above an imprinted image of the imagined Jesus' bearded face. Instead of friar robes and tall wooden walking sticks, the white-collared clergy wore early 20th century Prince Albert formal jackets and top hats while carrying short, polished, Fred Astaire dancing canes.
For young impressionable boys like me, the parade held even more significance. I had been confirmed as an eleven year old in my altar boy garb, no less, in May 1949. The bishop anointed me with the Holy Spirit as a sign of spiritual adulthood; similar to what happened with my Jewish pal, Jerry Steinfeld, when he made his Bar Mitzvah at thirteen while I subbed for him at the kosher butcher shop round the corner.
Yet it wasn't until I marched in the October 1952 parade for the first time that I actually felt like a newly -minted "defender of the faith." How could I not feel this way, when every band played "Onward, Christian Soldiers" (in addition to Adeste Fideles") over and over again, as they marched that autumn afternoon. Yes, it was a great day to be Catholic in Jersey City where the legendary Holy Name parade originated and thrived.
I have a pretty good memory like everyone else. Buried within each of us are countless stories, millions of magical moments and more people than we can ever recall. When we consciously go back in time to remember, relive or reflect on an experience, something wonderful happens. Unexpected details and funny experiences pop into our heads. The past suddenly becomes present and we are young again. And that's what happens with my memory of the Holy Name parade.
Not surprisingly, I recall being eight years old in October 1946; watching a full marching band with clarinets, trumpets, bugles, rat-tat-tat-tat and big base drums lead St. Paul's parish priests and a phalanx of men and teenagers, rigidly carrying small flags on long stemmed, thin round wooden sticks like rifles against their shoulders, as they passed in review before the neighbors and curious on-lookers at the corner of Jackson and Van Nostrand Avenues.
It was the first time I had ever seen a parade pass through our neighborhood. Only recently did I discover why. You see, the Holy Name parade had shut down from 1943-1945, as all able-bodied young men in Jersey City went off somewhere around the globe, fighting for our freedom. Only one other year--the 1927 rainy wash-out -saw the parade cancelled:
For the next few years, 1947-1949, I stood on the end of my block on that magical October Sunday afternoon, cheering and waving support to St. Paul's Holy Name Society. Strangely, they never showed up at the same time or at the same end of the block.
The parish march resembled a floating crap game. One year, the Holy Name Society trooped by at 12:30 pm, the next year, at 2:00 pm. One year, along Jackson Avenue, the next year on Bergen Avenue at the opposite end of our block. I didn't know then that the parade line up changed every year, as did the parish position.
St. Paul's was just one of the twenty-seven Catholic parishes in the second largest city in New Jersey, though as Bob O'Connor, my high school coach and long- time friend notes: "Jersey City was really a small town." Some churches like St. Anthony's, the second oldest Polish parish in the city and Holy Rosary, the oldest Italian parish in the state were located two doors from each other downtown. They epitomized the ethnic identity of so many parishes.
On meeting someone for the first time from another section of the city, the first question anyone asked was not "what street do you live on? but "what parish do you belong to?"If the answer was Mount Carmel or Holy Rosary, you immediately knew she was Italian; St. Anthony's, St. Anne's or Our Lady of Czestochowa, he was Polish; St. Boniface, she was German; St. Ann's on the Heights, he was Lithuanian; St. Patrick's, St. Aloysius and almost every other parish, he and she were Irish. Most Catholics in the city were Irish. So were the parish priests.
The Holy Name parade brought us all together as one family: immigrants and native born, young and old, rich and poor, men, women and children, Italians, Irish, Germans, Polish, Ukrainians, Lithuanians, African-Americans and every other nationality. Even Jewish and Protestant teenagers marched with their pals, if only to experience what it was like to be Catholic in Jersey City on that special Sunday.
In the fall of 1950, my big sister became a freshman at St. Aloysius high school on West Side Avenue, a block from Lincoln Park. If Bernadette had gone to another Catholic high school in the city, she would not have been as swept up in the parade excitement. St. Al's served as the host parish and epicenter for this grand event, just as St. Patrick's Cathedral does for the annual St. Patrick's day parade on Fifth Avenue in New York City.
Bernadette couldn't wait for Sunday October 9th to come so she and her new frosh girlfriends could get dressed up and stand near the entrance to Lincoln Park on the Boulevard, "watching all the boys go by" and then go out together for an ice cream soda or pizza to compare notes about the young lads who caught their eyes.
I can still hear Bernadette boasting to mom on Friday night: "the nuns didn't give us any homework this weekend because of the parade." Her enthusiasm caught me by surprise. She was what you would call "sophisticated" for her age. No way was I going to stay home and hear her later talk about the parade being so much fun, After all, I was in the seventh grade, two short years from proudly marching down the Boulevard myself.
I didn't mention my plans to mom or Bernadette. On Sunday, around 12:15 pm, I caught the Bergen Avenue bus; jam packed with fashionably dressed women and noisy children. We all got off at the same stop, in front of the Young Men's Hebrew Association building (Jewish Y) on Belmont Avenue. I wasted no time, jogging up the block to the Boulevard, hoping the parade hadn't begun.
Much to my surprise, both sides of the main street already stood three and four rows deep, filled with mostly middle-age and young women, teenage girls and curious grammar school boys like myself. I noticed Bernadette and her friends standing across the way in front of a three story cream-colored brick school building (St. Aloysius Academy) abutting Kensington Avenue, talking excitedly to each other.
I quickly took off in the opposite direction towards the starting line, figuring fewer people would be there. The crowds continued two and three deep for the next three blocks and finally thinned to only one row by Duncan Avenue, diagonally across from the four -story Fairmount Hotel. There I found an open space in front of St. Dominic's Academy, two blocks from the parade starting line at Montgomery Street. Nothing, not even the overcast skies could dampen my anticipation for the adventure ahead.
At 1:00 pm, a squad of police motorcycles revered up their engines, announcing the start of the Big Parade. As the mobile police unit slowly came into sight, it was as if they were opening a giant album filled with fascinating pages of Jersey City's Catholic Churches and ethnic neighborhoods. The crowds cheered "the city's finest", obviously pleased that the two hundred and fifty uniformed cops lining the parade route had "taken the day off "from giving tickets to unsuspecting drivers and illegally parked cars throughout the city.
Several yards behind the motorcycles came the "Lone Rangers" honor guard. The father of my friend, Jack Schaffer, was one of the ten policemen riding a majestic chestnut-colored horse. Till then, I had only seen one live horse in my young life. It wasn't much of a horse. The poor tired animal pulled a fruit and vegetable wagon down our block in the summer, as its Italian immigrant owner shouted: "Peaches, pears, plums, watermelons here! " Neighbors flocked to the fresh food market on wagon wheels. The old horse waited patiently, swatting flies with its tail while curiously watching us out of the corner of its eye. We cautiously returned the favor.
As the mounted honor guard gracefully waltzed by, every horse left something to remember them by. Each dropped a few softball- size manure plops on the main street. Surprisingly, no pooper-scoopers followed in their wake. The parade route soon resembled a healthy horse manure mine field, waiting in ambush for some mindless marchers.
It was only right and just that the first to navigate the mine field was the Parade Grand Marshall in top hat and tails, riding in a car of course, while the local Holy Name Society President and Vice President walked behind the car, along with other organizational big wigs, all similarly attired in Prince Albert formal wear.
As they passed by with a 100 watt smiles on their weathered faces, artfully dodging the manure, I saw a big guy in a suit and tie carrying a large vertical embroidered silk banner, Holy Name Society, St. Joseph's Catholic Church, Jersey City, NJ. Marching alongside him were two equally burley well-dressed men, each tightly holding a rope, hanging down from the top of the banner on each end. If not for this wing support, the guy carrying the vertical banner might have ended up like Mary Poppins flying across the sky on an unexpected gust of wind.
St. Joseph's had the honor of leading the 1950 parade. The city's twenty- seven parishes were grouped into three separate divisions based on geography. One year, the ten parishes in the Greenville/Bergen-Lafayette section would be in the first division; the Heights' seven parishes would be second and Downtown's ten parishes third. The next year, Heights would be first, Downtown second and Greenville third. That sounds simple enough except for one detail.
The parishes annually changed places within each division, though not in any predictable order, as far as I can discern. It seemed as though the parade organizers made up the line of march on a whim or maybe a prayer or most likely, the word from some higher-up authority. In the end, each parish supposedly had the distinction of leading off the parade every twenty-seven years. But I wouldn't bet on it.
It was great fun watching the pageant unfold before my eyes, particularly since I stood in the direct line of sight of a few fresh manure softballs. The Boulevard didn't proceed in a straight line from Montgomery to Belmont Avenue. Instead it curved downhill to the right before reaching Duncan Avenue. Consequently marchers were not as aware of what awaited them on the street ahead.
The older, veteran Holy Name Society men knew what to expect. They marched with their eyes wide open, constantly scanning the pavement in front of them. The younger marchers, particularly single guys in their early twenties, were too caught up in the fun of the moment to pay any attention to where they were marching. They were more interested in checking out the single women or their girl friends or family members on the sidewalks.
I happened to be standing next to two young women who shouted:"Johnny, Johnny!" while waving their hands. "Over here! Johnny! Over here!" I noticed a guy about 20, wearing a light colored one button suit, white shirt and a bright skinny tie, turning his head. He looked over to the sidewalk, broke into a happy self- satisfied grin and waved his left hand in recognition like a politician. Just then, he heard "Squish!" as his right shoe stepped in the fresh manure.
Everyone laughed. His face became bright red. He swore up and down, "Jesus Christ!" And other divine incantations such as "Holy shit!" All the time, scraping the sole of his right shoe on the ground to loosen a chestnut- color horse's gift to him and trying to keep up with his line of March. This scene repeated itself a number of times until the manure became flatter, wider and thinner than a pancake. Eventually the straw-colored particles became part of the pavement.
I spent the next hour watching one parish after another pass in review. The larger parishes always had bigger bands-- sometimes even two bands-- and usually three marching units, each with 300 -500 men; while the smaller parishes had a boys' fife and drum corps or a small ethnic group and one unit of marchers. Christ the King, the only black parish, always stole the show with its bake and shake black band, led by a 6'4" high-stepping drum major show man, dressed in an all-white outfit with gold trim sleeves and top hat.
It was not unusual for an enterprising band to lead three small parishes, each in a different division and get paid three times. They'd race a mile from the end of the parade route in Lincoln Park along West Side Avenue up Montgomery Street, in time to catch another small parish turning onto the Boulevard from the opposite side of Montgomery. They marched and ran back and forth again and again, for a total of six miles. By the end of the afternoon, the band members were so exhausted that they could barely stand, let alone walk.
Each parish, regardless of its size, was organized in the same way. An American flag and the Holy Name banner introduced the parish, headed by its own distinguished Grand Marshal, often a local politician, who was flanked by its Holy Name Society President and Vice President, all in top hats and tails. The parish priests came next, drawing the most cheers. Then a band followed a short difference behind so as not to damage the priests' ear drums. The rest of the Holy Name officers closed out the leadership contingent.
The first unit of 300-500 men with blue pennant flags then followed; each line comprised of twelve marchers across the Boulevard. A captain carrying a white flag kept the lines marching in step. The captains were older, often former Army sergeants or Holy Name parade veterans, who took their jobs seriously, constantly barking out the cadence like a restless hound dog.
I eventually grew tired of standing around like a potted plant. Off I went down the packed sidewalks, walking in step with the marching band on the street till I reached the entrance to Lincoln Park several blocks away. There I saw the statue of Abraham Lincoln, seated on a pedestal, his hands folded between his legs, lost in thought. Without a beard, President Lincoln looked younger and different than any picture I had ever seen of him. No wonder people now refer to the sculpture as the "mystic Lincoln."
Lincoln Park was easily the best place to watch the parade. The downhill road was only four lanes wide, causing the band and marchers to squeeze closer together, just like the shoulder to shoulder spectators on the curb and grass. Everybody clapped and cheered. Smiles all around. No complaints anywhere. It felt so good to be young and alive this autumn day.
I raced down the Park across West Side Avenue and saw a band replacing another band in a reserved space across from the reviewing stand alongside the granite, French Renaissance style St. Aloysius church. The band serenaded the parish priests and Holy Name officers and members marching by. Then that band left, replaced by another band playing the same Christian battle hymn for its Holy Name Society members. And so it continued through late afternoon.
The parade route ended about twenty yards beyond the reviewing stand at the circle in front of a 53- foot high fountain, the largest and deepest concrete fountain in the world, built in 1910. Just then, I saw a gang of kids my age, all trying to collect Holy Name flags. I figured the blue and especially the white flags must be worth something if so many kids wanted them. Being naturally competitive, I plunged into the mush pit.
Bill Shrekgast recalls his experience at the end of the parade. "Some kids came up to me, saying: "Give me your flag!," (as if practicing to be stick up artists) "Sometimes kids stole a guy's pennant if he wasn't paying attention, The guy would shout, "Jesus Christ, you stole my flag and ran after the kid who quickly disappeared into the sea of suits."
I spent the rest of the parade politely asking guys in their early 20s for their flags. Most were glad to get rid of them. Before long, I collected about fifteen blue pennants with a pointed arrow on top. Janet LaFarge, St. Al's Alumni President observed kids dueling with the pointed sticks. "It was a miracle nobody lost an eye." You might say, that was just one of the miracles that took place at the annual Holy Name parade.
I stuck around for a short time after the parade to check out the Benediction service and sermon in the park as all the single guys and gals vanished. Thousands of older Holy Name Society men and their wives stayed, hearing the featured priest "denounce Communism and warn about taking the Lord's name in vain."
I caught the Bergen Avenue bus home exhausted after a long day, yet feeling good about the twenty flags I collected. Arriving home, I wondered what to do with the flags. It wasn't long before I realized they were not only worthless but also useless. I threw them in the trash.
Would you believe I attended the parade again in 1951, arriving an hour after it started, and again hustled more than twenty flags in front of the concrete fountain. I again took them home and soon threw them out. Most people would think this strange, making the same mistake twice. But it wasn't a mistake. Tom Colbert, my St. Paul's classmate, did the same thing. He said: "The fun was getting as many flags as possible and then throwing them away." Only in Jersey City does this screwy logic make sense!
Sunday October 13, 1952 was a memorable day for me and Fr. Frank McNulty, the new priest and athletic director at St. Aloysius high school. Both of us marched in the Holy Name parade for the first time. Although I attended St. Al's, I marched with my home parish, St. Paul's, just as my freshmen basketball teammates, Bobby Ernst and Fred Corbalis, did at Sacred Heart.
Fr. McNulty and I shared something else in common. We both had eye-opening experiences that bright sunny day. According to the Jersey Journal, the parade was the largest since 1946, as 35,000 men and teenagers represented their parishes. Actually, it also matched the all-time record set in 1930, the same year as the "mystic Lincoln" statue was dedicated.
St. Peter's church downtown led off the parade. Sixty Jesuits (priests, scholastics and brothers) led by Fr. Wally Malone, S.J. rector (whom I would later meet) and Fr. Vincent Hart S.J., former rector, stood out in their rented Prince Albert tails and top hats. Never before or after had so many Jesuits appeared in such grand style anywhere in the world!
St. Paul's marched in the third division that year. We also had to walk the furthest of any parish to the starting line. I didn't know that at the time. Nor did anyone explain that our route through the city would take more twists and turns on side streets and several major arteries than a Hollywood movie car chase. Some referred to our parade journey as "the Bataan Death March."
After attending the 9:00 AM Mass, I walked a mile home and then returned at 12:30 PM, dressed in my blue suit, white shirt and skinny red tie, hair combed; my cowlicks barely plastered down. Arriving at Greenville Avenue, I plunged into a mob of men and teenagers standing outside the church and grammar school, waiting for orders to line up.
I wormed my way down to the school basement, stood in a long line, filled out a simple form, plucked down a buck and a quarter on a long table and heard one of the Holy Name Society men say: "Congratulations", handing me a blue IHS pennant flag. In that moment, I stood eight feet tall. I couldn't wait to get going. I just didn't know where and with whom.
Lining up for St. Paul's was an experiment in controlled chaos. No one seemed to be in charge. Yet everyone instinctively identified 10 or 11 neighborhood buddies to march with. I hitched myself to a group of older guys who played at PS 34 school yard. I was the runt in the litter. It's hard to be one of the guys when everyone is 16 or 17 and you're 14. In front of us were several lines of young guys in their early 20s who hung out at the neighborhood taverns.
Within minutes, men with white flags organized us all into units. The band began playing. Off we trooped up Old Bergen Road. I proudly carried my Holy Name Society flag against my right shoulder. There's something wonderful about being in a parade for the first time with well wishers lining the sidewalks, clapping and calling out encouragement. I felt both self-conscious and excited at the same time. An extra skip slipped into my step.
Walking non-stop in the hot sun took its toll. Everyone moved more slowly after two miles. Without warning, we came to a dead stop on Jackson Avenue, in the middle of the black section, waiting for another parish, St. Patrick's, to arrive and take its place in front of us. All at once, a number of guys, mostly between 20 and 35, broke ranks and sprinted into the faceless shabby-looking dark bars, ordering a shot of whiskey and a glass of beer.
Twenty minutes later, the band resumed playing. As we took off, guys flew out of the jam packed saloons as if their suits were on fire, chugging another whiskey and beer chaser for the road. By now, more than a few happy young fellows were feeling no pain. They smiled, laughed and giggled with delight, swaying together in line. I was sure most would drop out along the way. We still had over a mile to go before reaching the starting line and another mile to the end of the parade in Lincoln Park.
Miraculously, all got a second wind and found a new source of energy. Glassy-eyed, they somehow stood up straighter, leaning together in unison, hiking up Montgomery Street to the starting line and then hoofing down the Boulevard towards Lincoln Park. Like the Seven Dwarfs, they became happier the longer they marched. I was surprised they didn't sing: "Hi Ho, Hi, Ho, it's off to Lincoln Park, we go. Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Hi Ho!"
Their happy camaraderie, however, didn't help them avoid the horse manure leftovers. Unlike the embarrassed young men I saw in previous parades, the St. Paul's guys simply laughed and made fun of each other for their missteps. Their good cheer set off a chain reaction of hearty laughter among everyone, from first timers like me to the seasoned sidewalk spectators.
Parading down Lincoln Park, we received a jolt of joyful energy from the women, children and St. Al's nuns cheering us on. I waved to the reviewing stand and soon found myself in the mush pit in front of the fountain; this time, holding on to my first- ever Holy Name flag. I didn't think twice about what to do. I gave it to the first kid who came up to me.
While St. Paul's men stood stalled on Jackson Avenue around 2:15 pm that Sunday, St. Al's Holy Name Society had just entered the Boulevard at Montgomery Street, leading off the second division. Fr. McNulty had looked forward to marching in the Holy Name parade since arriving at St. Al's a few months earlier; his first assignment as a newly ordained priest.
He had fond memories of the parade as an altar boy at St. Henry's parish in Bayonne, the next town over. St. Henry's took great pride in its magnificent green lawn, a city block long, surrounded by a black iron- picket fence that kept everyone out. While waiting to sing at Benediction after Bayonne's parade, the altar boys invaded the off-limits lawn and before long, began tackling each other. Fr. McNulty still bubbles over with joy, recalling that magical afternoon as a young altar boy, singing solemnly with green grass stains on his once white surplice.
The three St. Al's curates-- Fr. Kelly, Fr. Reynolds and Fr. McNulty-walked down the center of the Boulevard, along the same line, about ten feet from each other, to loud, enthusiastic cheers. The lean, weathered looking Fr. Kelly, the most senior, walked in the middle. Everyone viewed him as "Humphrey Bogart in a white collar." He spoke in short, clip, terse sentences like a tough guy, while casually smoking a cigarette between his teeth. He listened with tired penetrating eyes as if guarding the entrance to Key Largo or Rick's bar in Casablanca.
Flanking Kelly on one side was the tall, introverted Fr. Reynolds who resembled an ascetic scholar with his black rimmed eye glasses and balding hairline. The apple-cheeked Fr. McNulty walked on the other side, smiling with delight, waving to the crowds along the sidewalks and saying a personal hello to every St. Al's parishioner and student he knew.
As the clerical trio passed a group of kids by the curb, the 25-year old McNulty overheard one kid proudly boast, pointing to each of them: "Dat's Fr. Kelly, Fr. Reynolds, and Fr. Mooney." An older street-wise kid quickly over ruled him. "Nauw, ya don't know what ya're talking about. Mooney's dead! It's da new priest. McNulty!"
St. Al's priests and Holy Name Society members always received the loudest applause marching down the Boulevard. After all, it was the parish's home turf. But more than mere convenience inspired parishioners to turn out in large numbers. The pastor, Monsignor Hughes, had a personal stake in St. Al's parishioners showing up. He was the Vicar General of the Newark Archdiocese, the second most powerful and influential Catholic prelate, second only to the Bishop. He let it be known in no uncertain terms that the parade was a very important event for parishioners to attend!
As Monsignor Hughes stood tall on the reviewing stand, serenaded by a first-class marching band in the reserved space directly across the way, he proudly rejoiced in the parish Holy Name leaders and priests walking by; some tipping their top hats to him, while others placing the top hats over their hearts as a sign of respect. Then the first unit of 450 men, forty-five lines long, floated by, all waving to him, big smiles on their Irish faces.
Hughes' proud smile quickly evaporated as another parish suddenly showed up after the first unit. St. Al's always had three units in the parade, but not today. It only had as many marchers as Holy Rosary, the small Italian parish. The diocesan Vicar General was furious. The weak St. Al's turnout reflected poorly on him and his leadership. He couldn't wait for the event to end so he could read the riot act to his priests and the Holy Name Society leadership for the poor turnout.
While Monsignor Hughes silently fumed, a mob of marchers stood around, cooling their heels between Montgomery Street and West Side Avenue, waiting to join the parade, as one parish after another turned onto the Boulevard from the other side of the Montgomery Street. Soon the group began chanting "we want to march." The parade marshals ignored them, refusing to channel them into the organized stream of marchers funneling onto the Boulevard.
It was only a matter of time before the group exploded. The Jersey Journal described what happened next "Finally, one impatient leader let out a lusty "Forward march!"…. "1000 men walked briskly along the Boulevard and through Lincoln Park in late afternoon without banners or clergymen as thousands of on lookers wondered, who are they?" The newspaper identified them as "the rear guard of St. Al's "which it christened "The Lost Battalion."
Afterwards Monsignor Hughes blamed Our Lady of Victory (OLV), specifically Fr. O'Brien, as the culprit for cutting into the parade too soon, causing St. Al's two other units to be left behind. O'Brien tried to explain that St. Al's marchers were nowhere in sight. As often happens in a dispute between two Irishmen in which one is right and the other is omnipotent, Hughes never forgave O'Brien.
Too bad, Fr. O'Brien didn't invite Bill Shrekgast to testify in his defense. Bill too was an innocent victim or so he claims. You see, St. Al's marchers assembled that Sunday alongside the high school on Kensington Avenue at 1:30 pm and walked five blocks up to the starting line by St. Peter's College, arriving at 1:45 pm.
Bill and other thirsty young guys took a slight detour on the way, dropping into their favorite watering holes along West Side Avenue - Kelly's, Doheny's, White Spot, and Felices--for a little libration for the journey ahead. All exited the bars, ice cream parlors and street corners along West Side Avenue by 1:55 pm, in more than enough time to join the first unit before the 2:15 pm scheduled liftoff.
However, unbeknown to Bill and the other stragglers, the first division of parishes covered the parade route faster than expected, causing St. Al's, as the leader in the second division, to set off at 2:00 pm, 15 minutes earlier than scheduled. When the Lost Battalion arrived on Montgomery Street, St. Al's contingent was long gone. So was OLV which had lined up behind them.
Being marooned became a festive experience for the St. Al's remnant. No parish Holy Name Society had ever been abandoned before. Bill fondly remembers one guy in the Lost Battalion carrying an Army canteen around his belt. "He kept taking a slug of water every few steps. I later learned the canteen was filled with beer!" No wonder the Lost Battalion stands out as one of the most memorable groups in Holy Name parade history and folklore.
I marched with St. Paul's the next three years. (1953-1955). However, the experience never quite matched the excitement of my first time as a high school freshman in October 1952. Maybe because I knew what to expect. Or perhaps the parade tradition was dying before our eyes, as more teenagers and young 20s marched once or not at all. Or maybe the Jersey City world of my youth was changing. I now see it was all three.
I do remember 1954 as a special year for the parade. Pope Pius XII had declared the twelve months between December 8, 1953 and 1954 as the Marian year, "a time for Catholics to increase their faith and devotion to the Virgin Mother." Never before in the 2,000 year history of the Catholic Church had there been a Marian year.
Old Monsignor Monahan made sure every able bodied man and teenager in the parish marched to honor the Virgin Mary in the Golden Jubilee Holy Name Parade on October 11, 1954. It was not a hard sell. The rosary easily was the most popular Catholic devotional prayer. Every spring, Catholic schools and parishes held a May crowning in honor of Mary. And most every family had more Rosary beads than children.
An estimated 125,000 people-slightly less than half of the city's population -watched 25,000 men march that overcast day; 10,000 less than two years before. About 50,000 spectators lined the Boulevard and Lincoln Park. The rest stood along neighborhood sidewalks throughout the city, cheering the local parish men passing by. Little did anyone suspect that this would be the last time such an overflow crowd would watch the parade.
St. Paul's had the honor of being the lead parish, with a record 1500 men and teenagers carrying Holy Name Society triangle flags. My pal Ockie recalls me organizing a neighborhood group that included him, Davy Gallagher, Bob Dolan, Jimmy Piscatore and other teenagers. As a 16 year old high school junior, I called cadence to keep everyone in step.
Fr. Leo Farley, the 26-year old, newly ordained priest also made his St. Paul's parade debut. The 5'10" athletic-looking priest knew all about parades, growing up in Bayonne and playing the drums in St. Vincent's national championship drum and bugle corps that traveled the country. Farley had a marvelous sense of humor and a knack for figuring out imaginative ways to make change happen.
"It was wonderful being a priest in Jersey City," Farley said, recalling his first Ash Wednesday experience when he walked eight blocks to the small, private Greenville hospital across from PS 34 School and blessed every Catholic patient with the sign of cross in ashes on the forehead. As he came down the hospital steps that late afternoon, a Boulevard bus screeched to a stop. The door swung open. The bus driver shouted: "Hey Fatha, can you give me ashes?' As the young priest climbed into the bus, everybody began shouting: "Me too, Fatha! Me too!"
Fr. Farley went down the aisle placing ashes on everyone's foreheads-Catholics, Protestants and Jews---- then exited the back door. The door closed and the bus roared away. Laughing, he exclaimed: "Only in Jersey City could a priest make house calls, hospital calls and bus stop calls." Farley, however, did not have the same high opinion about the Prince Albert jackets that he and all priests had to wear.
Jersey City priests had long complained about the ratty old formal wear. Fr. John McGovern, my boyhood friend, called them "seedy." In fact, one priest ended up wearing a frayed Prince Albert jacket with a sewn over knife wound in the right shoulder blade. It made no sense for the priests to complain since Rothrock had an exclusive sweetheart deal with the Newark archdiocese for decades. Farley, however, wasn't dissuaded.
He waited till the last minute before placing his order for the October 1954 parade. By then, only the dregs remained at the bottom of the large storage boxes. Farley showed the crummy jacket to Monsignor Monahan with a request to rent new formal wear from another vendor. The old Monsignor refused. So the young priest ended up wearing the tattered Prince Albert jacket and top hat for more than four miles. He was lucky the mangy jacket didn't attract a strange assortment of flies along the route!
Farley would get his revenge the next year. This time, he refused to accept Rothrock's tired old jacket from the bottom of the barrel. Monsignor had no choice but to allow him to rent a Prince Albert jacket elsewhere. He discovered no one else carried the out-of- date formal wear, not even New York's theatrical costume places. So Fr. Farley walked over to the tuxedo store on Old Bergen Road one block away and rented a morning suit; as did the other St. Paul's priests: Fr. Hanley, Fr. Callahan and Fr. Nead.
On October 10, 1955, St. Paul's priests would be the first group in the diocese to rent from a source other than Rothrock. Its formal wear was new and up-to-date, not decades old. Unfortunately, the Jersey Journal didn't include St. Paul's flashy foursome in its front page photo or in the short article, one column wide, seven paragraphs long that was equally divided between Jersey City and Bayonne parades. Nor did the story include any personal antidotes about the marchers. Never before had the newspaper coverage been so meager and generic.
Fr. Farley left St. Paul's after two years (1954-1955) to study for an advanced degree in moral theology at Catholic University in Washington D.C. and then taught at Darlington Seminary, along with Fr. Frank McNulty. Later, he became the pastor at Our Lady of Mercy, the new parish in the Greenville section, carved out of St. Paul's. But young Fr. Farley left quite an impression during those two years.
1955 marked the last time I marched. The next year, I was somewhere else. In reading the news account of the October 15, 1956 parade, I suspect the Jersey Journal reporter also was somewhere else. For the first time, no photo or story appeared on the front page. Instead, only a single column, less than 1/3 of a page, appeared on page 15, near the Obituaries. The short article gave the same amount of space to the smaller parades in Bayonne and North Bergen as it did to Jersey City, the largest parade in Hudson County.
1955 marked the last time I marched. The next year, I was somewhere else. In reading the news account of the October 15, 1956 parade, I suspect the Jersey Journal reporter also was somewhere else. For the first time, no photo or story appeared on the front page. Instead, only a single column, less than 1/3 of a page, appeared on page 15, near the Obituaries. The short article gave the same amount of space to the smaller parades in Bayonne and North Bergen as it did to Jersey City, the largest parade in Hudson County.
Jersey City's Holy Name parade participation and attendance steadily declined in 1957 and 1958, then fell sharply in 1959 and faded fast until 1967, when the Priests' Senate in the Newark Archdiocese overwhelmingly voted to close it down. By then, many of the young men, women and teenagers who had grown up in Jersey City during the late 1940s and 50s had moved away to other towns and cities in New Jersey and across the country. But, no matter where we landed, we continued to carry the fond, funny and favorite memories of the Holy Name parade on the second Sunday in October close to our hearts
You may wonder why the Holy Name parade died so quickly. Most point to the National Football League (NFL) televised games on Sunday afternoon as the silent assassin. No question the December 1958 overtime NFL championship game between the Baltimore Colts and New York Giants turned many Jersey City men and teenagers into Sunday couch potatoes. Less known factors also had an effect. Low priced, stylized automobiles hit the mass market in 1954. Overnight, car sales soared everywhere. Parishes found it difficult to navigate Jersey City's more congested streets without tying up the city. The New Jersey Turnpike, built in 1952, also opened up the Jersey shore and new suburban communities, enabling Catholic families to move out of the city. No doubt, these influential factors made a difference. But they were not the key factor. Something more fundamental happened that few of us in the 1950s recognized. I certainly didn't. Yet we all experienced it.
Monsignor John Tracy Ellis, the pre-eminent Catholic historian in America in the 20th century pointed out that Catholics faced bigotry and suspicion from the very beginning of this country because of their allegiance to the Pope in Rome. Most of the founding fathers were Protestant whose ancestors had fled religious persecution in European countries where the Catholic Church was the state religion. They made the separation of church and state an essential pillar of our Constitution. America was a Protestant nation until the end of the 19th century, at the very least. Catholics were second class citizens in almost every state, especially New Jersey where the state constitution barred them from holding political office until 1844! The constitutional change didn't end anti-Catholic sentiment in the Garden state. The Know- Nothing party and nativist attacks on Catholics increased, as tidal waves of mostly Irish immigrants landed on the shores of Jersey City, Newark and other towns close to Ellis Island in the 1840s and again in the 1880s. Irish Catholic immigrants, for example, doubled from 6 to 12 million in America from 1880 to 1900. Italian Catholic immigrants arriving in the 1880s were called "WOPS", short for "With Out Papers." In other words, "illegal aliens." In response to this anti-Catholic environment, the Church created its own educational, health care and social service system, second only in size and scope to the Federal government. The self-empowering system, however, had a negative side-effect. It fostered a ghetto mentality among Catholics. By the turn of the 20th century, Jersey City was one of the most densely populated Irish immigrant areas in the country. Thousands lived downtown, working on the docks and the railroads. The neighborhood Irish saloon served as the social and political center. No women were allowed in bars. Nightly, the men dropped in for a few beers, shared stories and argued politics. Often, arguments became heated, triggering loud outbursts of profanity and blasphemy, in addition to inciting more than a few fights. In early 1905, the pastor of St. Michael's church endorsed the idea of a young curate at St. Bridget's to sponsor a Holy Name Society parade around Hamilton Park in downtown Jersey City. He recruited the help of local saloon keepers who were the most influential political leaders in the Irish immigrant community. The parade was hailed as a "colossal living protest against the habit of blasphemy and profanity." The Holy Name parade that fall, the first ever in America, was a big success. Seven downtown churches marched as well as those from Newark, Bayonne, North Hudson, Hackensack and other nearby towns. The headline of New York Times article, in September 1906 proclaimed: "14,000 Holy Name Societies March. Biggest Religious Demonstration Ever Seen In Jersey City. Two years later, in October 1908, the parade moved uptown to the six-lane prominent Boulevard, home to the Protestant city fathers. By then, Newark, Bayonne, North Hudson and other towns were holding their own Holy Name parades. The parade was more than a religious demonstration, though it did cause profanity to decline in the Irish bars during the fall. But the parade achieved something more lasting. It celebrated Catholic identity and solidarity in a hostile world and gave the thousands of immigrant marchers, dressed in suits and ties, a foretaste of their political might. In 1917, Frank Hague was elected Mayor. He had marched with St. Michael's as a 22 year old in the first parade in 1905, and would march every year afterwards, mostly with St. Aedan's, until his death in 1956. Hague would become one of the most powerful political bosses and kingpins in the country until retiring in 1948. Post World War II saw Catholics climbing the social mobility ladder, as record numbers used the G.I. Bill to obtain college degrees and better paying jobs in the expanding economy. Yet the ghetto mentality hung on. The Jesuits at St. Peter's Prep, for example, would not send a graduate's transcript and recommendation to a non-Catholic college until the late 1950s because of the fear of him losing his faith. This defensive mind set dominated Catholic schools everywhere, especially in Jersey City where it served to promote the vital importance of the Holy Name parade for Catholic identity. In 1959, John F. Kennedy launched his run for President, the first Catholic candidate since Al Smith's fatal attempt in 1928. Kennedy's biggest challenge was overcoming the rumor that as a Catholic, his allegiance was to the Pope and then to America. Kennedy successfully addressed that issue in his speech to the Ministerial Alliance in Houston TX. His 1960 victory liberated Catholicism from its own self-imposed ghetto. Even if the NFL popularity never happened, Jersey City Catholics no longer needed to hold a Holy Name parade. With President Kennedy in the White House, Catholics now basked in the main stream of American life. The parade had achieved what it set out to do 55 years before, even though most of the 1950s marchers would agree with Bill Shrekgast's honest statement: "No one knew the purpose of the parade!"
My home town has greatly changed since 1950 when Catholics
comprised 86 per cent of the population. The city now has one of the
most religiously and racially diverse populations in the country. From time
to time, I imagine what the Holy Name parade in Jersey City might look
like if God asked me to organize it today.
Police motor cycles would lead off the parade, as they do everywhere.
The "Lone Rangers" horse honor guard would follow. Directly behind
them would be a squad of pooper-scoopers, not mechanical sweepers,
but joyful men, women and children in clown make-up and costumes,
cracking jokes and making funny faces as they shoveled the softball-size
manure plops into large city barrels on wheels, making the Boulevard
perfectly clean.
Next would come the largest, most joyful banner ever seen on the
Boulevard. It would cover all six lanes and be supported by an overhead
army of rainbow- colored helium balloons, each featuring a religious
symbol.
The banner would proclaim Holy Name Parade in big bold letters,
accompanied by drawings of God by little children from every nationality
in the world. And the banner's sub-headline would say: We are
All God's Children. For as the saintly Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel
wrote: "God is greater than religion. Faith is deeper than dogma."
Holding on to the banner would be representatives of every religious
tradition in the city: Catholics, Episcopalians, Methodists, Lutherans,
Baptists, Presbyterians, Pentacostals, Jehovah's Witness, Mormons,,
Jews, ( Reform, Conservative, Orthodox), Muslims, (Sunni, Shia, others,)
Coptic Christians, Orthodox, (Greek, Russian), Hindus, Buddhists ( Zen,
Tibetian), Baha'i, New Age and all seekers. All would wear ceremonial,
liturgical robes and outfits.
To pay tribute to the Holy Name parade's rich tradition and honor a
lifetime of deep faith, loving kindness and compassionate service, two
Irish Catholic priests would serve as honorary Grand Marshals. Both Fr.
Frank McNulty and Fr. Leo Farley would wear pristine Prince Albert
jackets and tails with walking canes and top hats, and share a million
smiles. Fr. Frank McNulty would wear the collapsible top hat that a St.
Al's parishioner gave him more than a half century ago.
Christ the King's smooth marching band would glide behind, moving in
rhythm with the loose-limbed 6'4" drum major. Marching alongside the
band would be a 400 member choir of men and women singing Marty
Haugen's inspirational hymn, "All Are Welcome".
Twenty steps behind them, rushing to catch up, would be Bill Shrekgast
and St. Al's Lost Battalion, as a symbolic tribute to the more than a million
zany, curious and serious Catholic men and teenagers who marched in
the parade through the years. All would have an Army canteen
attached to their pants' belt, filled with cool sparkling water, of course!
They would be followed by divisions of churches, synagogues, mosques
and temples. Instead of each religious tradition walking separately, all
would mingle together, each carrying a flag honoring their Holy Name of
God.
For God is known by many names: Jesus Christ, Yahweh, Adonai, El
Shaddai, Abba, Allah, Brahman, Jehovah, Lord, Elohim, Immanuel,
Ground of Being, Mystery, Supreme Being, I AM WHO AM, Holy Spirit,
Heavenly Father, Compassionate Mother, Great Spirit, and hundreds,
even thousands more.
For God is greater than all the universes, more elusive than the wind and
more radiant than the sun shimmering on the water in the morning. So
God cannot be limited to a single name or language or religious tradition.
Besides, as Diana Eck writes in Encountering God:
"As a Christian, I began to realize that to speak of Christ and the meaning
of the Incarnation might just mean being radically open to the possibility
that God really encounters us in the lives of people of other faiths."
Men, women and children would march, dance and sing in the most
inclusive parade ever held anywhere. Everyone would wear a thousand
smiles, call each other by name, and see everyone as a cherished
"brother" or "sister." There would be more bands, singing groups and
musical ensembles than anyone ever heard before or since.
Yes, that would be some Holy Name parade. But sadly, it won't happen
in Jersey City. The Boulevard is not large enough to accommodate
everyone. It would have to take place somewhere more expansive,
without sidewalks or streets or cars. Where the sun always shines, and
time stands still and no one becomes cranky or tired. And where the
reviewing stand can hold all the " martyrs, angels and saints from every
tradition, as well as all our individual families, loved ones and ancestors
from ages and ages past".
Obviously, somewhere so magnificent that no one's ever seen.
Somewhere far beyond the sea and sky and galaxies. It'll be quite a
parade. One thing is for sure. I'm going to have the time of my life that
day. I'm going to wear spats and sing the hymn I sang as an altar boy
more times than I can remember. I'll sing so loud, and so will everyone
else, that together we'll wake the dead with this song of praise.
Holy God we praise Thy Name.
Lord above, we bow before you.
All on earth, your scepter claim.
All in heaven bow before you.
Infinite your vast domain.
Everlasting is your Name.
Martin T. Walsh
July 2011
PS. In case you are wondering, IHS is a Christogram or monogram; a
combination of three letters of the Greek name of Jesus (iota-eta-sigma)
serves as an abbreviation for Jesus Christ. IHS is traditionally used as a
Christian symbol, along with the cross (+), either above the letters or as
part of a taller I. IHS is sometimes interpreted as meaning Jesus Hominum
Salvator ("Jesus, Savior of men" in Latin) or simply the "Holy Name of Jesus."
(Editor's note) The days of the neighborhood tavern in Jersey City are long gone but Mike Ransom brings them back for one last shining moment in this delightful video. In fact this documentary is so good that I am proposing it for entry in next year's Jersey City Film Festival.
I was intrigued by some stories about an old time bar in Jersey City and the guy who used to own it. The bar is long gone but the owner is still around and he and his bar are imortalized in the stories that are told by the old timers.
I'd heard about Ocean Eddie a few months before I met him. I heard that he'd come up from the shore a couple of days a week to tend bar from 6am until noon.
He still does. He works at Massa's on 24th and Avenue A in Bayonne on Thursday and Friday. He does a good business because he has a following that probably goes back fifty years
After I met him and listened to some of his stories I decided to make a Mike and The Coach episode about him. I got help from Ocean Eddie, Larry Daly, Tony Maita, Chuck Wepner, Tom Murphy and Eddie Bergen. I even used a clip that Eddie Bergin had produced. Because of that clip and some other things that Eddie Bergin said, I didn't feel that I could put it on Cablevision.
I did put it on DVD and youtube, though. People have copied that DVD and it's been shown in some bars where Ocean Eddie is known.
In Eddie Bergin's piece he carried a sign to various locations and took pictures of it and included some of Ocean Eddie's friends. He also told me about one particular shot in front of Ocean Eddie's old establishment. It is a boarded up and neglected building on Ocean Avenue in Jersey City. Bergin told me that when he got there he saw a crack whore hanging out on the corner. He said, "I paid her two dollars to point to the sign while I took her picture".
Back in 2005 we had reconnected with Marty Walsh, who became a prolific contributor to these pages, winning several awards along the way and we had also connected again with Father Frank McNulty who had been the AD at St Al's during the year that Marty's team had brought St Als their first ever State Championship. What better way could we use this combo than to parlay Marty's flair for writing and the story of Fr McNulty which all became part of the biggest JJ ever up until this current one you are now reading, and in case you haven't yet picked up on the Photo Caption answer above - that was young Fr McNulty in the Holy Name Parade. The featured article below is probably the best thing that Marty Walsh has ever written and knowing Marty he would give all the credit to the subject matter.
There are special individuals who come into our life in the most ordinary way. Before long, we begin to see them in a slightly different colored light, as somehow deep, talented, caring, even extraordinary. Yet they don't see themselves this way. And when they move on, we discover that they have quietly touched our lives in the most profound way.
Fr. Frank McNulty, priest extraordinaire, educator and athletic director at St. Aloysius High School/parish, Jersey City (1952-1963) is one of these special people. Many of us have been blessed to know him over the years. Yet few of us realize how truly extraordinary he is.
Fr. McNulty grew up in Bayonne. After middle school, his family moved to Roselle. He graduated from Seton Hall Prep and then studied to be a diocesan priest He was ordained in June 1952 and assigned to St. Aloysius church and high school on West Side Avenue.
Jimmy Leo remembers the first time he met McNulty. "We were playing in a three on three basketball game in the St. Al's gym in late summer. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a guy wearing a red sweatshirt and brown khaki pants calls out:" Winners" .I didn't know who he was. He looked younger than we did."
Every St. Al's student had the same impression when they met the 5'9" slender, smiling, baby faced, blue eyed McNulty that September. Sister Gertrude Jose, the affable, no nonsense principal was concerned that the students would take advantage of this youthful looking, novice priest teaching religion. On the first day of class, she pulled McNulty aside and told him the secret of her success: "Don't smile till Christmas!"
That was like telling the sun not to shine. Fr. McNulty didn't need any advice on how not to be a push over. Beneath his gentle, humble exterior was a backbone of steel. He was bright, organized and expected excellence. He taught religion, ran the sodality and was responsible for the athletic program.
Sister Gertrude Jose also said to McNulty as he walked into his first senior year religion class: 'There's a kid there who just lost his father. Look after him. His name is Charlie Hudson." McNulty helped shepherd Hudson, the rough and tumble basketball captain, through this sad time in his life.
After graduation, Hudson enrolled at Seton Hall Divinity and was ordained a priest in 1961. He became widely known for his charismatic leadership, down to earth homilies and pastoral care. He founded the Center for Hope, the first hospice non-profit organization in the Newark Archdiocesan. Hudson and McNulty were the best of friends, and planned to give parish missions together, after both retired. That dream died with Hudson's untimely heart attack in 1992. Thousands attended his wake and funeral. Fr. McNulty's homily helped everyone to laugh and celebrate Charlie's amazing life through their tears.
Charlie Hudson was just one of the countless St. Al's students and parishioners that McNulty would deeply influence over the years. From his first day From his first day, McNulty loved St. Al's . He also discovered Jersey City's unique 1950's Catholic culture on a hectic Friday afternoon.
He was in a hurry to deposit his modest bi-weekly check into the nearby bank. No parking spaces were available on the street. Figuring it would take no time to run in and out of the bank, he parked his black car in a No Parking zone. Emerging minutes later, he found a policeman writing a ticket on his car. When the Irish cop saw the owner was a priest, he took back the ticket and apologized: "I didn't know it was your car, Father." Fr. McNulty replied: "It was my fault. I should not have parked there." He reached to take the ticket. The cop said: "No, Father. I can't give you a ticket." Then looking around, squinting his eyes, he mused aloud: "I just have to find another 1953 black Chevrolet to put this ticket on!"
In June 1953, Patsy Murray, the long time, respected St. Al's basketball coach retired after a losing season. As a basketball buff, McNulty was determined to recruit the best coach in the area. He consulted Bill Martin, St. Al's 1930's sports hero and legendary CYO director. Martin said" the best young coach hands down is Bob O'Connor at St. Cecilia's Kearny." O'Connor who was a star athlete at Snyder High School and Panzer College was 26 years old, the same age as McNulty.
Together, over the next decade, McNulty and O'Connor would lead St. Al's to its golden age of basketball fame, winning three state championships, and numerous other titles. O'Connor compiled the highest winning percentage among all Hudson County basketball coaches during that time. He was twice named Coach of the Year by the New York Daily News. In 1996, he was inducted into the New Jersey Sports Hall of Fame, and in 1998, the Hudson County Sports Hall of Fame.
O'Connor said "Fr. McNulty was an ideal athletic director. He let me do my job. He would quietly drop into practice, stay a few minutes, watch what we were doing and then leave." In his quiet unassuming way, McNulty let the players and students know that he cared about them as individuals. By the late 1950s, he was teaching religion classes not only at St. Al's high school, but also St. Al's Academy and St. Dominic's Academy. He knew more Catholic teenagers than almost any priest in the city and had an impact on most of them.
His time at St. Al's came to an end in 1963. The bishop had bigger plans in mind for the popular, thoughtful McNulty. He selected him to study for a doctorate in Theology at Catholic University, Washington DC. After completing his STD in two years, McNulty joined the faculty at the seminary at Darlington, where he taught Moral Theology for almost twenty years.
Fr. McNulty has always been first and foremost a pastor, caring for individuals. There was no way that he would simply be "a seminary professor in a cloistered cage." He was soon leading marriage encounter groups in nearby parishes. Rita Rogan, a St. Al's Academy alumna, recalls Fr. McNulty's gentleness, warmth and ability to explain the most difficult issues in simple language. At the same time, he began giving retreats to priest groups around the country. They too were taken by his humble eloquence, compassionate kindness and deep spirituality. It wasn't long before he was widely known as a "priest's priest."
In 1980, Bishop Gerrity appointed him to a new position as Vicar of priests in the Archdiocese of Newark. Fr. McNulty was the first priest to hold this position in the American Catholic Church. His job was to work with priests on every level, helping to resolve problems whether they be personal, organizational or physical. I kiddingly told him that "it sounded like he was the spiritual shop steward for priests."
In 1986, Fr. McNulty was named pastor of Blessed Sacrament Church in Roseland, NJ. Soon afterward, the Vatican announced that Pope John Paul II would make a pastoral visit to the United States in the fall of 1987. His first stop would be Miami, Florida where he would speak first to 1,000 priests, religious and laity of the Miami diocese at St. Mary's Cathedral.
From the Cathedral, the Pope would go to St. Martha's Church where 750 priest representatives of the nation's approximately 53,000 priests would be in attendance. The Committee for Priestly Life and Ministry of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops was assigned the task of selecting one priest to speak publicly to the Pope on behalf of all the priests of America. Three candidates were put forward; Fr. Frank McNulty was selected.
It is difficult to imagine the pressure that Fr. McNulty felt. The television networks would be covering the event. His remarks would reach a worldwide audience. He had a half hour to tell the charismatic Pope about the Catholic priests in America; their hopes, dreams and concerns. The challenge was to be honest without being offensive. After all, every President, King, CEO and Pope only wants to hear good news.
As I reflect on the challenge facing Fr. McNulty on September 10, 1987 in Miami, I am reminded of the wise words of Robert Bolt, the author of the award winning play A Man for All Seasons. In his introduction, Bolt described Sir Thomas Moore as "a man with an adamantine sense of his own self. He knew where he began and left off" And when faced with retreating from that final area where Moore located his self, "there, this supple, humorous, unassuming and sophisticated person set like metal, was overtaken by an absolutely primitive vigor, and could no more be budged than a cliff."
Like Sir Thomas Moore, neither could Fr. Frank McNulty be budged from telling the truth to the most powerful Churchman in the Catholic Church and the world. He said: "These recent years have not been easy for priests. But where there are valleys, there are also mountains." He went on to describe the "top-of-the-mountain moments of joy, peace and satisfaction of being a priest, "their love of ministry and their rejoicing of a renewed church with its call to serve, not to be served, and to be a forgiving church.
He then shared the worries of the priest; notably the shortage of priests and the increasing number of parishes without priests. Near the end of his remarks, he brought up the elephant in the room that Rome did not want to hear about: celibacy and the role of women in the church. These same issues are now being more openly discussed by Catholic laity and even some bishops today. Applause interrupted Fr. McNulty's remarks fourteen times! At the end, he and the Pope John Paul II embraced.
The next evening, Peter Jennings, ABC News anchorman honored Fr. McNulty as "the ABC Person of the Week". Jennings said "his eloquence on behalf of his brother priests struck us as a lesson in gentle persuasion. We thought it as a refreshing change from most people who think that the only way to accomplish their goal is by making a lot of noise in public."
It is rumored that Fr. McNulty was once on the short list of qualified candidates to be made a bishop. That is until he addressed the Pope in Miami. McNulty is glad that he was never made a bishop. "I would not like being an administrator." Years later, as pastor of Blessed Sacrament Church, he turned down the bishop's offer to be made a monsignor. "I like being simply a priest and pastor."
In 1996, Fr. McNulty turned 70 and retired as pastor of Blessed Sacrament Church. His years there were filled with great joy and many blessings. His reputation as a homilist and spiritual mentor grew with each passing year. He used simple stories to make the Gospels come alive for the people in the pews. He then moved to St. Theresa of Avila in Summit where he is simply a retired priest in residence.
In June 2002, family, friends and fellow priests packed St. Theresa's church, as Fr. McNulty celebrated his 50th anniversary as an ordained priest. It was a very difficult time in the Catholic Church, with the pedophile scandal in Boston and elsewhere dominating the news. The laity now looked with suspicion at all priests, even though a small minority were guilty.
In his typical honest, straight forward, sincere manner, Fr. McNulty spoke about how painful the scandal was for the laity and for every priest. He went on to say that some priests even questioned whether they would make the same decision to be ordained today. He then posed the question to himself. "If I knew then, fifty years ago, what I know now, would I still make the same decision?" He paused and looked over the congregation and at his fellow priests, then said with a firm, gentle smile: "I would choose to be a priest again in a New York minute."
He went on to share the joys and richness of his life as a priest. There was not a dry eye in the church. Once again, Fr. McNulty found a gentle way to heal the heart broken, the dispirited, and the wounded, and leave us with a much needed message of hope.
In September 2003, St. Aloysius High School inducted Fr. Frank McNulty as the first honorary alumnus into its recently created Hall of Honor. He told the sold out Casino in the Park audience that Jersey City and St. Al's will always be special to him. "Because it was during those years that I learned how to be a priest! You taught me." St. Al's has never received a greater tribute in its history!
Fr. McNulty is still a parish priest, though less active. He is still giving retreats to priests, though not as many as a decade ago. He is still a teacher and mentor; recently helping deacons in the archdiocese of Trenton to become better homilists. He is still giving parish missions to standing room only audiences And he still has a great love of basketball.
In fact, if you go to a Seton Hall basketball game, you will occasionally see a gray haired priest in a black suit and white collar, and sometimes a sweater if the 20,000 seat Meadowlands Arena or the 19,500 seat Madison Square Garden is cold, sitting at the end of the team bench. He looks younger than his 78 years.
If you observe him closely, you will notice the most peaceful and radiant smile on his kind Irish face. And you will know that he is one of those extraordinary people. Who has touched the lives of more men, women and young people with his kindness, humility and faith than can fit into the Meadowlands and Madison Square Garden combined!
Lionel Lieberman was the person who originated recreational running - he apparently had gotten into running during the time he spent in the service and when he came back to Jersey City in the late 50s he began a craze that has swept the nation and two knees later Lionel is still very active, and this year in Houston he won a gold medal with his Senior Olympics Basketball team.
As a high schooler Lionel was a big albeit chubby forward on Lincoln's Basketball team. He had grown up playing with neighborhood friends including Hunch Meehan and the McLoughlins and his dad owned the conservative London Shops men's clothier at Journal Square.
After graduation Lionel did a stint in the Navy where he may have gone in as a chubby kid but came back out as a complete mensch without an ounce of baby fat. He would be seen running around the local streets Lincoln Park at a time when this activity was only done by track teams. Since there was nobody else to run with, Lionel ran with his German Shepherd every day - from his apartment on upper Kensington Ave to the entrance of Lincoln Park and then down the hill and all around the park. He had come out of the Service as a conditioning fanatic. He could be found at the YMCA climbing ropes up and down to the ceiling and when he played basketball there was no finesse or style to his game - he simply "told" you that he was going to win and if you beat him early in the game he just seemed to get stronger as everybody else wore down. There was not a rebound or loose ball that he didn't go after no matter where he was on the court and even if you beat him to it, there was a price to be paid.
In contrast to this on court barbarian, Lionel was a caring and gentile friend to those he associated with, and he had a constant concern for the welfare of those around him. By this time he had developed a playboy image wearing his sporty wardrobe and he always drove around in a new convertible while he took over and expanded the family clothing business.
During this period Lionel met his wife Joan and they married almost 45 years ago and had 3 children. Lionel retired about 15 years ago and now lives in West Orange. He loves his memories of Jersey City and old Jersey City friends and connections. He recalls when he was stationed in the South during the '50s he saw that Georgetown was playing against a local college and he went to the game just to watch Warren Buhler play. Last year he looked up and visited his old high school team mate Mickey Winograd in Florida.
Now Lionel stays in shape by playing ball 4 or 5 nights a week with his friends in West Orange/Livingston and the training has apparently paid off because his over 75 team won the Gold Medal at the Senior Olympics in Houston last spring.
Every so often we like to throw in a literary change of pace to show that there is more here than just drinking beer, playing basketball, and beating the tabs in expensive restaurants. This issue is graced with two contributions:
In the 1940's, almost every boy in St. Aloysius Grammar School aspired to be an altar boy. This was a period when Catholic churches were staffed by many priests (most of Irish American heritage) who celebrated many Sunday Masses starting at 6:30 AM and ending with the late sleepers' Mass at 12 noon. Parishioners flocked to these Masses and SRO at the later Masses was more the rule than the exception. This was also the period when most Catholics went to Confession on a regular basis with the priests "hearing" in the many confessional booths every Saturday afternoon and again in the evening. To miss Mass was a matter for Confession. For devout Catholics then, the choice was either missing Mass and having to go to Confession, with the ensuing castigation for such profligacy, or, making sure that the good Fathers spotted them in the pews on Sunday.(Flashback--on certain holy days during the year, e.g., Christmas, Easter, the St. Al's priests, not the ushers, would take up the collection. They would appear from the side doors of the church in their long black cassocks, genuflect in unison in front of the altar rail, turn and start down the aisles. There was terror in the hearts of the faithful who did not have the special holy day envelope to drop into the basket as "Father" passed it in front of them. To drop merely a coin in the basket was to risk eternal humiliation.( Only years later did Fr. Jerry Kelly (RIP) tell me how much the parish priests detested taking up those collections.)
In the fourth or fifth grade, Sister James Marie announced that tryouts would be held for those who wished to become altar boys. My parents thought that was a good idea and, since most of my friends were doing so, I didn't want to be left out. There were two categories of altar boys: choir members (red cassocks) and Mass servers (black cassocks). The tryouts were for the choir and almost every boy was selected, including me. The liturgical requirements of the 1940s dictated that "High Masses" be celebrated. The High Mass required three priest- celebrants, and the large parish choir. The entire ceremony was sung, as compared with the "low Mass" celebrated by one priest with no singing and no choir. The High Mass was celebrated every Sunday at 12 noon. The large group of choir boys was divided into two sections, the St. Aloysius Choir and the St. John's Choir. On alternate Sundays, each would be assigned to sing at the 12 noon High Mass.
St. Al's parish's demographics took in several economic classes: the very poor, poor, middle class, upper middle class, wealthy and extra wealthy. All economic classes from the area were represented at St. Aloysius Grammar School. Though we did not understand why at the time, most of the boys from the more affluent neighborhoods were assigned to the St. Aloysius choir. The rest of us choral-ed in the St. John's choir. In about seventh grade, boys from both choirs were invited to try out to be altar servers. Some, including myself, were accepted. After acceptance, a series of practices took place after school with one of the priests leading the candidates step by step through the mysteries of serving at Mass. At the same time, we were expected to memorize the Latin prayers used in the ritual. Even after acceptance as a Mass server, the St. Al's-St. Johns division continued. The St. Al's choir and servers might be present at the Christmas midnight Mass while the St. John's group would sing and serve at the 12 noon Christmas Day Mass. All of us choir members and servers were equal in the eyes of the Lord. In truth, as we were to learn, we were just not equal in the eyes of certain nuns and priests.
Mass servers assisted at funerals on weekdays during school hours (such a treat to be excused from class) and on Saturdays. The liturgy in those days was quite somber with the priest wearing black vestments and the (adult) choir singing Dies Irae (Days of Wrath), the presumption being that all departed souls were semi-wicked and thus had to suffer in purgatory for some ill defined period before entering heaven. I can recall serving at many, many funerals and tightening up as the pall bearers started moving quietly up the side aisle when the ceremony neared its end. It was at this point that the bereaved family would usually break down. At this point, I was standing right next to them holding a candle. It seemed back then that most of the funerals were served by us St. John's boys. And there were no altar boy tips for serving funerals. There were the sad funeral Masses and there were the happy nuptial Masses. These took place on Saturdays. In the number of years that I and my close (St. John's Choir) friends served Mass, we were never asked by Sister Dominator of Altar Boys to serve at a nuptial Mass. But the boys from St. Aloysius Choir were so asked. Always. And at the end of the nuptial Mass, the altar boys from St. Aloysius Choir lined up with their hands out for the expected tip from the best man. These boys from the "upper crust" of parish society, usually had more money in their pockets than we of the lower classes could ever hope to have and yet, the Good Lord rewarded them copiously with coins of the realm whilst we kids from the flats got to watch people sob next to the coffins of their loved ones.
Many decades later, a Sister who was assigned to St. Aloysius in the 1940s, met a close friend of mine. He had also been a member of the St. John's Choir and his memory is/was as long as mine. In conversation with the Sister, he mentioned to her how we lower class altar boys had been so often snubbed when it came to nuptial Mass assignments. The good Sister, with a tone of apology, then said to my friend, "it was the Sister in charge of altar boys who made those decisions. She was directed to assign only those boys from the St. Aloysius Choir ( i.e., upper middle class, wealthy and extra wealthy) to serve at nuptial Masses."
Coming from the Duncan Avenue flats had its drawbacks----- even in church.
We are giving Krzys a break this month in the spirit of Christmas and instead of picking on my favorite Brother in Law we present Krzys' favorite Polish Christmas song - sung by Bobby Vinton.
Making screen savers and prints from local calendars has proved to be a big success over the past years This year each JJ issue will feature screen savers/prints from three different sources - the Minuteman Press calendar this year shows the work of local artist Frank Hanavan. We will also be using some scenes from the Jersey City Landmarks Conservancy calendar which has a theme of Mysterious Jersey City - photos by Leon Yost. Our third source will be taken from Dan Beard's albums of beautiful local photographs. This issue features a photo from the Mysterious Jersey City Calender - - The Holden House on the Underground Railroad on Clifton Place across from the Margaret Hague Hospital. This was the only house on the block when it was built by Abolitionist, David Holden in 1854 and had a clear view of the waterfont from the hill which was assisted by the stellar telescope in the attached observatory. Run away slaves were hidden in the basement until a signal was given that it was safe to come down to the Hudson River where they would cross to freedom in New York. The people in rain garb are part of a 2002 group who walked the New Jersey routes of the Underground Railroad and here they were led by Mayor Glen Cunningham to relevant sites in Jersey City. Mayor Cunningham was working on a related article for the JJ when he died less than 2 years later. - - These scenes are great for cutting out and framing or you can right click on the picture and use it for your computer screen background
The Jedsey.com section is the biggest change in the JJ's format because this section will function independently of each individual issue. With the new server there is no limit on storage and this section will not have to be appended to each issue. Instead it will be a dynamic page of its own and will have sections that never have to be changed such as archives of previous issues and email addresses and websites of all of your old and new friends. Additionally, this is a place you can go to look for the latest schedules for upcoming events and the newest news flashes that missed the latest issue now posted on line. Take a minute to get familiar with all the sections of this independent website by clicking on the link below and then visiting each tab at jedesy.com. In future months we will talk more about the type of information that you can expect to find in each section.
The newest additions and changes for our online network of readers are included here. Add these address changes to your e-mail listings, and send a note to an old friend today. We will direct link to your websites as they come on line, and there are also websites of local interest included here. Save any or all of these sites in your favorite places. - - Please resend your email address if it recently changed and/or you did not get recent email notices regarding this new issue - all addressed were dropped from our list if they bounced when the notice was sent out. - for some servers like Earthlink, you must put the JJ on your "friends" list so that our email alerts can get past the server's spam blocking software -
This month's FEATURED WEBSITE was suggested by several readers - it tells you some amzing facts about the area where you live - just insert your Zip Code and read on.
- - The best search engine for finding the JJ is Yahoo (search on the words "jedsey journal"), also there are still some who do not recognize that the JOURNAL does not get mailed to you - it is always at the same spot until it is replaced by the new issue at that same spot and now you will always find the latest issue at the new easy to remember address of jedsey journal.com (the address never changes so keep it saved in your cache of favorite places). AND if you missed any issues you will be able to find them in the archives stored on jedsey.com , so those are the two addresses you will ever need to remember. NEW ARCHIVED ISSUES HAVE BEEN ADDED RECENTLY.
- - Finally, for those of you who want to save these issues for you collection use the following instructions: 1- open the on line issue of the current JEDSEY JOURNAL - (make sure it is completely downloaded) 2- click on "file" and then click on "save" and then select a folder to keep each issue in - create a file name to index the issue and make sure it is saved in an html type format and then you will be able to open and read each issue long after it is replaced on line. One last hint- the JJ is formatted for 8 1/2" wide paper, so if you are reading it on your PC screen you will get the best presentation by clicking the window button and narrowing your window screen to resemble an 8 1/2 x 11" sheet of paper.
FEB - due out - Feb 15 - - - Badd Ladd Day Preview - - Basketball Fever - - ID THE PHOTO - - BEST OF JEDSEY JOURNAL ARCHIVES - - JCNJ REDUX ,,, - THE WAY WE WERE - - - - WHERE ARE THEY NOW - - - AND MUCH MORE -