Novitiate 1962-1963: Memories
My sisters waved goodbye, my father shook my hand, my mother gave me a farewell kiss and handed me a bag of fried chicken as I boarded the train. It was the late summer of 1962. I had just boarded the train in Oakland with my good friend, Frank Kelly. In June, we had graduated from the Salesian junior seminary, St. Francis High School, in Watsonville, California, and now we were headed to New Jersey for more training to become Catholic priests. We were joined by fourteen more classmates in Los Angeles who teased me about the bag of fried chicken. But by the time we hit Kansas, they had blown their wad on train food and were begging for a drumstick.
After crossing the country in five days, we stepped off the train in New York’s Pennsylvania Station where we were met by the seminary bus. I thought I had malaria since I was sweating for no reason. When I asked for an explanation, the bus driver, one of the Brothers from New Jersey, smiled and said, ‘Welcome to the east coast’.
Unlike the dry, brown (golden) landscape in California, the New York countryside was beautiful and green, thanks to regular thunder storms. We here headed to a summer camp in the Catskills called Mt. Mongola. We relaxed there for about a week and met East Coast, Midwest, and Canadian guys from other junior seminaries as well as with Sons of Mary (slightly older guys who had not attended the junior seminary). All of them would soon be joining us on another bus ride to Newton, New Jersey, to attend the Novitiate.
The whole idea of Novitiate was puzzling. For an entire year about fifty of us mostly eighteen-year-old guys were going to study religious life, the Salesian type of religious life, before becoming Salesian brothers. We had just finished a rigorous academic junior seminary high school, took the SAT test, and were ready for college. But the college years were to be interrupted by the Novitiate. Some alumni of our junior seminaries had just finished their Novitiate year but we had lost contact and were clueless about what to expect. When we saw them at a distance, they always seemed to be smiling at our plight.
Novitiate buildings behind statue
When we arrived in Newton, the bus took us past Don Bosco College and up a hill to the Novitiate. Waiting for us there were the Novice Master, Fr. Giovanini, and his assistant, Brother Dave Goris. After a quick orientation, we grabbed our bags and headed for the dormitory (one enormous room with about fifty beds and lockers) to get settled. To put us in the proper frame of mind, we began the Novitiate with a long (10 days?) spiritual retreat. This was to be a full year of emphasis on the spiritual, so what better way to start. Most of the novices seemed to benefit from or at least survived the retreat. I remember feeling a sense of peace and a calming of some anxieties once it was over. But then I noticed that some of my fellow novices had disappeared. This was to become an all too familiar pattern throughout the year.
August 1962: Novices from East and West gather to start Novitiate
During the novitiate year all novices were closely monitored. The Master of Novice’s job was to be sure that every novice was prepared to take his first vows (poverty, chastity, and obedience) for three years, and was ready for life as a Salesian Brother. The sudden departure of novices indicated that they or the Master decided that the Salesian way was not for them. Fairly frequently I would notice in study hall or in the dormitory that someone was missing. Those who asked to leave or were asked to leave did so in secrecy. Rarely did someone outsmart the system to break this enforced code of silence. Years later I remember speaking to someone who had left the novitiate in secret. He said that he wasn’t sure why he was asked to leave and was deeply hurt that he was given no choice and no opportunity to say good-bye to close friends. But times have changed. Recently, a Salesian superior publicly wished a departing novice good luck and asked for others to pray for him as he sought a place in the world. I have spoken to other former novices who simply decided to leave on their own because they realized that religious life wasn’t for them. Reasons for leaving abound, so it is difficult to be comprehensive. I remember two novices leaving about the same time. It was becoming apparent to many of us that these two novices were developing a very close friendship. They were always together and couldn’t keep their eyes off one another. We novices had been warned many times about “particular friendships”, and these novices seemed to be headed in that direction. It was obvious that their novitiate days were numbered. Predictably, their study hall and dormitory places were soon quietly abandoned.
One of the major parts of the monitoring process was what I remember as a bi-weekly or monthly private meeting with the Master of Novices. Fr. Giovanini was a friendly, quiet priest, but it was his job to pry into the personal and spiritual lives of each novice to make judgments about the suitability for the Salesian life. Every novice knew that sincerity was very important in these meetings but that something said might lead to a secret departure. This created a tension that did not end until a novice was cleared for first vows. On top of our meeting with the Master, we also met with the big boss, the Fr. Provincial of the Salesians’ Eastern Province, Fr. Bosio. He was a very kind, dedicated priest, but I knew that he was carefully looking for those who would or would not fit into the Salesian way of life. The result was more gut wrenching sharing and more anxiety. The anxiety heightened when I learned about the “black ball” system. My recollection of the system is that a few superiors at the Provincial level decided on the progress of novices or professed brothers, whether or not they would be permitted to take temporary or perpetual vows by casting a ballot. The ballot was cast when each participant placed a white or a black marble in a container. Too many black marbles were enough to prevent one from making vows. This could mean the end of seminary life. I wasn’t sure if the voting involved only the novitiate staff or the provincial staff or both. I was sure that some voting was going on somewhere, and that was definitely a concern.
Shortly after the introductory retreat the novitiate routine began. Years have dimmed my memory, but I recall a schedule something like this Monday through Friday: 6:30 rising, 7:00 meditation, 7:30 mass, 8:00 breakfast, 8:30 chores, 9:00 classes (Gregorian chant, Greek, Salesian spirituality & rules, Italian? etiquette…), 11:30 chapel, 12:00 lunch, 12:30 recreation, 1:00 classes and study hall, 3:00 sports, 4:00 clean up, 5:00 spiritual reading, 6:00 dinner, 7:00 study hall, 9:00 night prayer, 9:30 retire to dormitory. Saturdays were work days with the same breaks as week days for church activities. Sundays featured more church activities, maybe a second or longer mass and vespers
Novitiate life presented all of us a new paradigm. We were used to the academic rigors of junior seminary life: lots of Latin, a little Greek, another foreign language, college prep science, math, English, religion. All this was replaced by fewer, easier classes. I was on edge most of the year because this seemed poor preparation for college. I had heard horror stories about the coming academic challenges especially in Latin and philosophy. But at least novitiate provided a moderate vacation from heavy academics. Still, this added to the tension because a tough academic load would have kept our minds sharp while blocking some of the day to day anxiety of surviving novitiate.
Now the focus was on developing the spiritual side. We novices were trained to meditate, to learn the Constitution and Regulations of the Salesian Order, and to develop our spiritual lives. The novitiate was designed to be a year of spiritual growth that would be the foundation for religious brothers and priests to serve the needs of young people in the world while maintaining their spiritual lives. At no other time would an entire year be available for this purpose. I remember struggling to learn meditation. During the first meditations, someone read portions of a book for a few minutes then paused for quiet reflection. Later, the readings became shorter and the pauses longer. The Master could assess the progress in meditation skill simply by counting head nods as novices fought off sleep. By the end of the year each novice selected his own mediation book and determined his own length of pauses. The Master lectured us almost daily on the Constitution and Regulations. When I was in the junior seminary, I worked in the library and discovered a copy of this little black book which only professed Salesians were supposed to possess. I was almost dismissed from the seminary when I challenged the Prefect of Studies (sort of dean of discipline) about his lack of the proper Salesian spirit as spelled out in the rule book. It was miraculous that I wasn’t sent home soon after this reckless confrontation. Years later the Prefect left the priesthood. I always wondered if and how he recollected the incident. Developing the spiritual life was a tall order. Attending mass daily, meditating and keeping a journal of meditation thoughts, reading spiritual books, visiting the Blessed Sacrament, attending retreats, meeting with the Master, and many other activities were aimed at giving this development a start. I knew that this would be a lifetime pursuit and that novitiate would only scratch the surface. I disciplined myself to spend more time in prayer, while trying to understand the spirit of St. Francis de Sales and St. John Bosco, wondering what the real Salesian life would be like, and trying to be realistic about how all this emphasis on the spiritual could be carried over into the real world.
Sometimes basic realities quieted the spiritual quests. After a few weeks in the novitiate routine my footlocker with my new, black, clerical suit, black overcoat, and other items arrived from the train company. I was excited to have more clothes to wear, especially the new suit. When I opened the footlocker, I was about knocked over by the smell of mildew. It was so bad that the liner in the suit jacket and overcoat were covered with mildew spots. After dry cleaning it was presentable, but some of the spots on the liner remained. I hate humid weather to this day.
Within the first week after the retreat all novices were assigned a morning chore performed after breakfast. With so many novices, the jobs could be fairly minor. I was assigned to clean the guest bathrooms which were practically never used. So I made a big fuss over cleaning and polishing the ceramic and chrome. This seemed to satisfy Brother Goris’ inspection and spared me a bad report to the Novice Master.
I recall another chore which took place in a room near the guest bathrooms. Large groups of novices were assigned Purgatorial duty. Purgatorials looked like diplomas except the two inside slots were stuffed with inserts that promised the buyer that masses would be offered for a certain length of time for a deceased loved one. This might decrease purgatory time. Hence, the name purgatorial. When stuffing purgatorials I would think that this smacked of buying indulgences, purchasing something that might have a beneficial spiritual effect. Later I discovered that both the Novitiate and College were supported to a large extent by these purgatorials which were sold in many Salesian parishes. I learned quickly that this was a “boat not to be rocked” if one wanted to continue seminary life. I’m less bothered by the concept now since many grieving families were consoled by them. Even if they understood that one mass would have a greater effect for a loved one, they wanted the fancy looking purgatorial that seemed to offer so many more masses. Not much harm was done and the seminary stayed solvent. Still, I am sure this topic will stir debate.
Another memorable chore was being assigned the job of “head cook”. I was one of the first to be assigned this duty. My stomach churned with anxiety as I imagined spoiling Fr. Giovanini’s dinner. Soon I discovered that I wasn’t supposed to cook anything. All the food was delivered from Don Bosco College in warming containers. The head cook was only in charge of distributing it.
The chore routine changed in a major way for me when the Master discovered that I had learned to cut hair in the junior seminary. Soon I was a regular barber for most of the novitiate including the novitiate staff. Somehow I managed to keep my hand from shaking the first time I cut the Master’s hair. He looked like the stereotypical monk with a crown of gray hair surrounding a central bald spot. Conversation was awkward because I wasn’t sure what I should or should not say. I let Fr. Giovanini start the dialogue and I remember long periods of silence. Cutting his limited area of hair wouldn’t take much time but I had enough wisdom to stretch out the job so he wouldn’t be reminded of it. He must have liked the job because soon the other novitiate superiors lined up for a trim. Then word reached the College that I did an okay job. I wondered if a Brother at the College, Tom Jaso, who had barbered with me in high school was sending referrals. Whatever the cause, College professors (priests) started coming to me. They usually arrived in groups, carrying the conversation, and poking fun at one another about various things. I remember several of them teasing me as I discretely cut a priest’s hair that covered his neck and continued as a thick mat down his back. I hadn’t encountered such an Esau type before and wasn’t sure what to do. I was cutting a swath between the priest’s collar and where most hairlines begin on the neck when another priest jumped up, pulled the collar down further, and encouraged me to trim further down the back. I did so but faced the same frustration because I couldn’t see where the hair line ended. The swath became wider, and the observing priests seemed satisfied, so I quickly finished the job. Some time later I faced my biggest challenge. A bishop or cardinal was visiting the college and was referred to me. I figured that some of the barbers at the College chickened out and sent him my way. Luckily, he had hair similar to the Master’s. A much-to-do-about-very-little was the order of the day. The church dignitary seemed delighted with the extended, free job, and thanked me sincerely. Reflecting on all this, maybe I have figured out at least one reason why I wasn’t “black balled”.
Novitiate was definitely a regimented life style. We welcomed any break in the routine. One of the first breaks was the feast of Christ the King in October. On this feast day, we were to receive the religious habit, a cassock and roman collar. Intense preparation preceded this clothing ceremony, our “vestition”. We were reminded that we were taking on the new man (Indue me, Domine, novum hominem) and that our new dress (it seemed like we were wearing floor length ballroom dresses) should indicate our new status. This was to be a rite of passage. The California novices, knowing that this would be a dramatic event, had asked for the ceremony to take place with families present before leaving for the east coast. The request was denied, so the clothing ceremony happened with no California families present. Our families wouldn’t see us wearing the roman collar except in photographs for at least three years when we returned to California to staff summer camps. We were fortunate because most of the California Brothers spent five years (one year of novitiate and four years of college) on the east coast before reuniting with their families.
Before and after "Vestition" ceremony. Western Province Novices.
It was an impressive metamorphosis to see 50+ young men abandon a shirt with a regular collar for a collarless shirt and a roman collar and to replace a suit jacket with a floor length cassock. We were definitely changed young men. In the early 60’s the full length cassock was the norm. Clerical shirts with inserted roman collars came later. We were issued a heavy cassock for colder weather and formal wear; a lighter cassock for hotter weather. We didn’t realize the full implications of cassock-wearing until the muggy, New Jersey weather returned. Then we had to deal with less than daily showers and limited use of deodorants. Cassocks were also worn for short recreations like handball and quick basketball games. Smelly dormitories and study halls were the norm. Windows were opened regularly even in cold weather for fresh air. Novices also had to deal with cleaning the two cassocks that were issued. Dry cleaning was almost nonexistent, so one of the older brothers, Brother Traina, gave detailed instructions on how to use a bar of hand soap and a few tools to deal with cleaning issues. Brother’s cleaning tricks have saved many Salesian novitiate alumni repeated trips to the dry cleaner.
Eastern Province and Western Province Novices together
Preparation for feast days involved more chores. The vestition ceremony would be held in the gym to accommodate parents and guests. In the evening the Brothers from the College would provide entertainment on the gym stage. This provided an opportunity to teach more discipline as the novices stripped and re-waxed the floor after many hours of scrubbing each vinyl tile (asbestos?) with steel wool. This was such a task that I dreaded playing basketball on that floor after each cleaning ordeal because we would be scuffing the tile once again.
Later in the day, after the vestition ceremony, we descended the hill to the College in an orderly line of black and white, like penguins, to sing vespers, and share dinner with the College community. Our arrival was more like an invasion since our novitiate class was the largest one ever. We nearly outnumbered the College Brothers. In the chapel we sat in front, separated from the professed (those who had already taken vows). The Brothers were entertained by how we managed to trip over the hems of our cassocks, tugged at our roman collars, and learned to juggle birettas (hats) and “libers” (Liber Usualis books used for chants) during Vespers. At dinner we further entertained the Brothers and our future professors by how we dealt with all the liquor on the tables. Most of us were too young to drink alcoholic beverage in our states or provinces of origin. So we had to make tough decisions on how to deal with the vermouth aperitif, the bottles of wine, and the cans of beer on the table. Some abstained. Some drank moderately. Some staggered from the refectory (dining room) after dinner.
The next break from the routine was the first snow fall. The California novices stole the show. In study hall we gawked at the snowfall as if it were some sort of magical event. Outside, things only got worse. We went crazy in the snow with snow ball fights and reckless toboggan rides down the gentle New Jersey slopes. One California novice, George Stein, I think, took a wild sled ride down the slope and almost slashed his throat on a barbwire fence. I recall toboggan rides down the same slope when it was very icy. Just as we approached the fence the lead rider would yell “bail” just in time for us to avoid decapitation on the fence. Our guardian angels were doing overtime.
Novitiate life was not without entertainment. Classical music was piped into the study hall where we learned to pretend not to watch the snow falling or to be startled by the thunder and lightning strikes which were also new to the California novices. I also recall listening to vinyl records of radio theater with a Salesian twist. Narrators would read poor English translations of Italian scripts featuring scenes from the life of St. John Bosco. It was so terrible that you had to laugh if you dared. The problem was that the Novice Master was watching for poor attitudes towards these pious programs. I can’t remember ever since trying harder not to laugh at something and wanting to pounce on a fellow novice who couldn’t control his giggles.
One of the greatest benefits of the novitiate was living this demanding, challenging life with young men from places other than California. I had never spent any length of time before with guys from New England, the Mid Atlantic States, the South, the Midwest, and Canada. We were bonded by this strange, new way of life with all its frustrations, anxieties, and survival skills. Many of the Canadians spoke mostly French when they arrived and learned English in the midst of the daily rigors. They learned English well, played incredible hockey, and became great friends. We California guys mingled with guys from the rest of the USA and developed close friendships with them too. I think we all learned new regional dialects, customs, and ways to get along with new personality types.
The novitiate year was carried by the routine which mesmerized. It seemed at times that I was in a trance or stuck in a succession of Ground Hog Days. At a certain point I emerged with my fellow novices from the fog and faced a 10 day retreat in preparation for first vows. By mid August the spiritual journey, the formation, the ordeal was over. I wasn’t “black balled” and was allowed to make my first temporary vows [for three years] with many old and new friends. We were survivors. We were brothers and Brothers. We were transformed in many ways. Over forty years later I look back on the novitiate experience with wonder, at times feeling regret, but most of the time remaining puzzled. I wonder how so many of us made it through the program. I wonder what it means to all those who were there. I regret that some of my friends were hurt deeply when asked to leave. I’m puzzled that it did not create many long-term professed Salesians. I’m puzzled when I meet former novices at reunions. We had so much in common, but have taken our lives in so many different directions. There seems to be a continuum of feeling about novitiate that ranges from resenting to treasuring it. I’m thankful for the experience because it provided an entire year far away from everything to concentrate on the spiritual side of life. Many years later I am rediscovering some of the treasures I found there. I think time and experience have also helped me decide what to reacquire and what to continue to abandon. I believe I am better for having had the experience. Jim Collins
Those who completed the Novitiate professed vows of poverty, chastity and obedience and became Brothers: Salesians of Don Bosco (S.D.B.)
From: We Were Brothers: Stories of Salesian Seminarians, compiled by Boudreau & Stanton, available in paperback or ebook, for detailed memories of seminary life.
Next: College Seminary and Teaching Brother Years