High School Seminary: 1958 - 1962
Sunday, September 7, 1958, arrived. The whole family drove from Santa Clara to Richmond to drop me off at the seminary. Dad took some pictures and we all toured the campus before saying our good-byes. We must have been in a rush because no one took a picture of dad and me together.
I sensed the sadness of my parents and sisters as they left, but I was delighted at the opportunity to pursue my dream to become a priest and to see what seminary life was all about. Years later I could empathize with my family's pain at leaving a thirteen year-old in a strange place when our own sons went to summer camp. This was a tougher separation than that because I wouldn't return home until Christmas, and families could only visit one Sunday a month for a few hours.
I was caught up in the chaos as nearly 50 new seminarians lugged suitcases to the third floor to find their assigned beds and lockers in an open dormitory with nearly 100 beds and lockers in neat rows. From there we ran down the stairs to find our desks on the second floor's study hall. From the open windows I could see the playground and the old seminary building behind the main building. Further away were neighborhoods in Richmond and the smoke stacks of a refinery that filled the air with a pungent odor. A bell rang and the in-coming freshmen followed the older seminarians to the chapel on the first floor where Vespers (afternoon prayer service sung in Latin) was getting started. I was clueless along with the other freshmen, but we followed as reverently as we could. After Vespers, we waited on he playground until another bell rang for dinner. We followed the crowd to the dining hall (refectory) where we were assigned seats at long tables. During the blessing for dinner, I saw Tom Harley across the room. I hadn't seen him since I left Fresno. He looked as confused as I felt with all the new routines. After dinner we learned some new games that the older seminarians were playing until another bell rang. One of the Brothers reminded us to be quiet as we climbed the stairs to the study hall while one of the priests monitored our silence. We listened to welcomes and directions for a while before following the crowd to the gymnasium to see a movie, apparently a rare treat. After the movie we were reminded about the 'sacred silence' until after Mass the next day. Back in the dormitory we were taught to dress and undress modestly in our bathrobes. After waiting in line to use the sinks and toilets in the bathrooms, we knelt by our beds to say a private prayer before hopping into bed. Two Brothers walked up and down the aisles to be sure everyone was quietly following the rules then turned off the lights.
About a month later, we were on the playground after dinner when suddenly everyone was quiet. We had just received the news that Pope Pius XII had died. As we gathered in the chapel to say prayers for him and the Church, we couldn't imagine the changes to our lives with the new Pope, John XXIII, and the Second Vatican Council that he would convene.
For the next two years, I entered into a very structured seminary routine. Part of the routine was daily morning chores and a longer work day on Saturdays. I saw that some seminarians were assigned to clean bathrooms and floors. Someone tipped me off that other jobs like working in the library or barbershop were available. I asked a friend if he could teach me to cut hair since he was a barber. After a few weeks supervision, I was on my own doing basic cuts, butches and flat tops. No one complained, so I continued cutting hair in high school and college. My Uncle Tom would be proud.
Sometime in June, the Prefect of Studies, Fr. Murphy, came to the study hall. He called each seminarian by name to stand up as he read our grades aloud to the entire group. Sometimes he dramatized a high or low grade. I was proud of my grades, but I could see more demanding classes to come on the standard report card. Latin caught up with me later when I repeated Latin III while also taking Latin IV. I was sad for those who struggled especially with Latin. Many of my classmates left the seminary because of the academics, homesickness, the rules and discipline, among other things. I recall some friends sneaking from the dormitory to the attic to study after midnight to catch up. Many hours of quiet study hall time each day were not enough. Empty beds in the dormitory signaled that someone had left. There were no good-byes.
During the summer we were allowed a few weeks at home before going to the summer camp in Bonny Doon near Santa Cruz where we had visited in 1957. We had more time for adventure there than at the seminary in Richmond. I recall long hikes including sliding down the steep sides of a quarry to Davenport on the way to Santa Cruz and winning a competition with some friends trapping a raccoon. One of the seminarians tried unsuccessfully to remove glands from a skunk. The camp stunk for days. I helped a classmate from Auburn dig a well to water plants around the camp. We hit water but not enough to do the job. We had fun just digging as my friend talked about gold panning and gold mines near Auburn.
Some of summer camp staff 1959 (Bro. Jerry Fury on right)
My grades started to slip my sophomore year when I faced some new teachers and new subjects. The novelty of seminary life began to wear off and the realities of a very structured routine and the pressures of academics took hold. The Italian-born Director remained. Then a new Prefect in charge of finances and a new Prefect of Studies in charge of discipline arrived on the scene. The one insisted on imposing a life of severe frugality on us. He had survived the concentration camp and would not tolerate any waste; the other was a strict disciplinarian who replaced a much friendlier, more approachable one. I’m sure I was changing also, an invasion of adolescent hormones probably coloring my view. Anyway, I was delighted when it was announced that the seminary was to be moved to Watsonville, perhaps a better place.
I have included copies of a few letters home from Richmond that my parents had kept: May 21, 1960, June 1960.
I also recommend We Were Brothers: Stories of Salesian Seminarians, compiled by Boudreau & Stanton, available in paperback or ebook, for detailed memories of each stage of seminary life. I wrote the chapter about the Novitiate.
The summer of 1960 was stressful, tragic, and exciting. The summer camp adventures of 1959 were replaced with summer school classes including German. The teacher would give us assignments and leave the classroom. I would sneak out the back door when he left and head down the the hill with a friend for some shade and comic books. We would return unnoticed and would do enough work to keep him happy. The summer was also tragic because of a brief, one-time episode of sexual abuse by one of the Salesians. I didn't want to tell anyone. It put my seminary life into a tail spin for the next year or so. I didn't want to return home, so I escaped in the excitement of moving to St. Francis High School in Watsonville. The abuser left the Salesians years later when I was in college after I had told the Provincial what had happened.
Seminarians and staff at Our Lady Help of Christian Church 1960-61
Even though we spent endless hours painting and cleaning our new school, it seemed a great improvement from Richmond. St. Francis H.S. had its own lake, swimming pool, farm, and orchards as well as regular access to St. Francis Camp on the beach near Aptos. Salesian nuns cooked wonderful meals including fresh produce from our own farm and strawberries and artichokes from local ranchers. We learned to buck hay, dig potatoes, pick apples and blackberries, slaughter animals in our own slaughterhouse, and feed the pigs and cattle. At the beach we learned to body surf and to dig for clams. The nuns would put the ground-up clams with Italian seasoning back in the clam shells and bake them for a special treat. I remember taking out the war surplus lifeboats on Kelly Lake with a bunch of friends. The wind blew us to the far end of the lake. The few oars we had were of little use. We floated into the tules then hiked back along the shore to the school.
Kelly Lake with snow on the hills in the background
Summer adventures gave way to my junior year and another heavy academic load. Still upset with the abuse incident and discouraged when I failed third year Latin, I was ready to leave the seminary by June of 1961. But after a short summer visit home, I changed my mind and decided to return to the seminary for my senior year. Life became brighter when my sister, Zoe, entered a convent in Watsonville a few miles up the hill on Hecker Pass. In February she became a novice with a white veil. Now the family could visit her and me in the same town.
With Mom, Sister Elizabeth (Zoe), Joyce, and Dad; With Sister Elizabeth and Sister Cecilia Joseph from Fresno
Now I had to study hard to meet the challenges of seminary life. Much to my amazement, and probably more to the amazement of those on the sidelines, I was starting to like the seminary program again and to thrive academically. I had to make up third year Latin (Cicero) and take fourth year Latin (Virgil) at the same time (along with Physics, Civics, English Literature, Religion, etc.). In May, each of the seniors faced another rite of passage, delivering a 'sermonette' on the Virgin Mary to all the seminarians and staff. Finals followed a few weeks later. We prayed for Mary's intercession.
I have included letters to my family from my senior year: September 1961, October 1961, November 1961.
Somehow I conquered the academic challenges, graduated, and waited to hear if I would be accepted into the Novitiate. Fifteen of the seventeen graduates that year were approved to go on to the next step. I was elated to be one of them and prepared for the train trip from Los Angeles to New York. That would be followed by a journey to the seminary college in New Jersey with a one-year focus on the spiritual life (Novitiate) preparing to take vows as a Salesian Brother.
Before leaving for the east coast, the Class of 1962 picture was placed in the main hallway for everyone to see. We were 17 of the original 52 who had survived the rigors of junior seminary life for four years. Two would eventually be ordained priests. There was still a long road ahead.
Shortly before the long train ride back east, my dad snapped some pictures of Mom, Joyce, Zoe and me at Lone Mountain where Zoe was taking summer school classes. I would return to a different San Francisco during the 'Summer of Love' in 1967 to take Library Science classes at nearby USF:
More great pictures and stories of junior seminary days (Dominic Vautier)