Mark White's "Joss Memoirs"

I was emailing with Mark White during the middle of August about attending our class reunion in October.  He expressed his regrets due to health issues.  At the same time, he told me about his personal life memoirs that he had written for his family and he shared with me a portion that pertained to his years at the Josephinum.  He asked that, given his absence from the reunion, I share his "Joss Memoirs" with our classmates.  I trust you will find them as poignant as I did.  Mark writes:

                                                    THE JOSS

While my classmates at St. Wendelin’s in Fostoria, Ohio were making out in the back seats of ’57 Chevies, I was praying up a storm at the Josephinum or, as we called it, the Joss. I spent five years at the Joss; four years of high school and one of college. I enjoyed every minute of it. Communal living agreed with me. My freshmen classmates numbered 68. When I left five years later, less than half that number remained.  Eventually only eight members of our original class were ordained priests in 1968.

We arrived in September of 1956; we were all 13-14 year old virgins and the “cream of the crop” as one professor/priest liked to call us. Every day began with a 6:00 am wake up bell that rang throughout the day calling us to: daily Mass followed by breakfast; each class or study hall; recesses, lunch and dinner; the daily rosary held in the chapel; evening study hall; evening prayers; lights out at 9:00 pm. Our lives were dictated by the bell. The first class every day was Latin followed by a curriculum that over five years included English, German, Greek, History, Civics, Religion, Algebra, Geometry, Old and New Testament Studies, Music Appreciation, Speech, and at least 4 hours of study hall every day. Wednesdays and Saturdays were half days; classes in the mornings and recreation in the afternoons. On Sundays there were no classes but there were two morning Masses to attend, breakfast and lunch, and recreation for most of the afternoon; at 4:30 there was Vespers followed by dinner, a little time off, the rosary, a two hour study hall ending with evening prayers before marching off to bed. The tower bell chimed every 15 minutes.

There was a long corridor connecting the chapel to the minor seminary building. We would depart the chapel after evening prayers walking silently in file on either side of the corridor. During the winter the windows of the corridor would freeze over; you could see your breath as you filed along. The two high school dormitories (on the second and third floor) each housed a hundred plus seminarians. Beds were assigned alphabetically. A Grand Silence was observed from 7:00 pm in the evening until after breakfast at 7:00 am.  During that time a communal rosary was recited by both Major and Minor seminarians in the chapel. I have one favorite all time memory of reciting the rosary. The Major Seminarians donned in cassocks and white collars would recite the first half of the Hail Mary and the Minor Seminarians in civilian garb, would then recite the remaining portion of the prayer. Timing is everything … as I learned later in life … and the split second between responses was highlighted by an enormous fart. The recitation of the rosary paused and the entire congregation broke out in laughter and even scattered applause. The rosary was followed by a two hour study hall, evening prayers in the chapel, and then retiring for the night. Showers could be taken on the basement floor. The shower room was a nasty place with a musty smell. There were individual showers each with a shower curtain that a shower room prefect (usually an upper classman) would snap with a towel to hurry everyone along. There was one memorable incident that took place in the shower room. One of the shower room prefects was not well liked. Someone took a crap in the shower which the prefect had to clean up. 
During my freshman year I spent time in the winter tobogganing down a steep hillside into a ravine located in the woods. I developed a hemorrhoid. So … off to the doctor I went in Columbus, Ohio … down the road about seven miles. A local anesthetic was given and the nasty varmint removed. By the time I returned to the Joss the anesthetic had run its course and I had to take an enema and my first bowel movement in a week. The pain was excruciating and I was laid up in the Infirmary for two weeks to recover. I had to drink a mixture of mineral oil and water at every meal for the rest of the school year. I sat on an inflated doughnut for several weeks thereafter attending class. During the ensuing summer I had an operation to remove another hemorrhoid. I was admitted to the Fostoria Hospital and shared a room with a butcher from a nearby town who had somehow cut an artery in his leg while on the job. We became fast friends. I also fell in love for the second time in my life (sorry, Peggy) with a young, red haired, buxom nurse who was intrigued by the prospect of nursing a seminarian to health.

The time spent at the Joss was more like attending an all-boys boarding school. Yes there was an emphasis on the religious side of life but probably no more than that experienced at most Catholic High Schools. I later came to realize that many of my peers who attended St. Wendelin’s High School back in Fostoria were a lot more religious than I ever was. Recreation at the Joss included a full schedule of organized football, basketball, softball, baseball, swim meets, track and field meets, or hiking through the woods consisting of several hundred acres of forest land with rolling hills, a deep ravine and a creek that flowed to the Olentangey River. I spent innumerable hours traipsing through the woods or tobogganing down the ravine during the winter months. Sports played a large role in communal life. I was never a first string anything until my senior year in high school; by that time attrition had taken its toll and I had finally grown to 5’ 9” and 145 pounds. Classmates like Joe Mammola and Sam Pezzillo were very talented athletes who would have started on first teams at any high school. In fact, Joe and Sam could have competed at any number of Division-I colleges.

Each of us got through puberty as best we could, chiseling a niche in the class pecking order. I had a good sense of humor and could sing, write and act. That was my niche. I sang in the glee-club which gave several recitals a year. There was also an annual glee club production, usually a knock-off of some Broadway musical or comedy (e.g. Tea House of the August Moon) or a production written by a couple Major Seminarians. I was the lead actor in all three productions in which I appeared. Looking back it was hilarious that there were no females in any of the productions. Singing a show tune like There Ain’t Nothing like a Dame was kinda ironic and lame. Food at the Joss was at best institutional. Each refectory table seated eight seminarians. Every week one boy was designated as Last Man. Food was passed left to right. The last man got to take what was left. Sometimes the Last Man was “starved out”; no food arriving at his place. This usually happened when the Last Man had somehow pissed off someone at the table or had done something really stupid. “Starve out” was whispered from man to man as the food was passed around the table. The Thanksgiving meal was special; heaping platters and bowls of food were placed on each table. Breakfast was always the same: a small box of dry cereal (think Kellogg corn flakes), milk, bread, a piece of fruit and coffee. Each box of cereal was opened by sticking it with a tableware knife. There was something reassuring but unsettling about suddenly hearing 300 knives striking cereal boxes at the same time.

I was not a very good student when it came to languages or math. Latin remained a mystery though I sat through 6 one-hour classes every week. German wasn’t much better and Greek was … well … Greek to me. I realized very early on that the only chance I had of passing these courses was to memorize as many vocabulary words as possible. Translating was something I simply could not do. As a result of my inability to master the three languages my overall grade point average hovered around 2.5. I had an ability to write well and I excelled in music and speech classes.

There were a couple of priests at the Joss who greatly influenced my life. Father “Jape” Marzen was the minor seminary disciplinarian.  Jape liked me. He was allowed to read/screen weekly letters written by us to our parents. I guess this was to make sure our vocations were intact and we were walking the straight and narrow. Anyway, he addressed our freshman class once and commented that in one of the letters he had read someone had described him as “not being an angel.” That someone was me. He got a big kick out of what I had written and over the years I could tell I was one of his favorites. He was a terrific athlete having pitched semi-pro baseball. I will never forget him kicking a football at least 60 yards one afternoon. He suffered from migraine headaches and would be absent for several days. He once invited the entire class to watch an episode of Route 66 in his suite. He also bought ice cream for the class (we each got a pint) one time during our junior year which was academically the most difficult year in high school. Jape was a stand up guy and I greatly admired him. He had a terrific personality especially when speaking to adults and family members visiting on Parents Day.  Jape died in 1990 of a heart attack. I learned of his death visiting the Joss while on a business trip in Columbus, Ohio. I walked around with a lump in my throat for several days. Father Joseph “Jimmy” James was another Joss priest who influenced me in my youth. He taught, or tried to teach me, Latin for three years. He was also the Glee Club director. It was Jimmy who gave me a chance to act on stage. He was also my music appreciation and speech teacher. He had a great love of music and would play different LPs during his music class. He introduced my classmates and me to various types of music which I am sure I would not have ordinarily taken any interest. I took piano lessons as a kid so I had a leg up on classmates who had never played an instrument. I wasn’t very good at the piano but I enjoyed playing. I would sometimes play beneath the stage in the auditorium. Jimmy sensed I had acting talent and knew I sang well too. Someone told me later in life that Jimmy followed my brief career as an actor while I was in college and even later when I performed in New York. I’m told Jimmy eventually left the priesthood and married. Evidently a priest from the Joss once showed up at his home attempting to convince him to return to the “flock.” Jimmy punched the good reverend in the nose … or so the story goes. I’m sure Jimmy has passed away though I don’t know when or from what. There were other good Fathers whom I remember affectionately: Fathers DeRuntz (English), Zwinger (German), Becker (freshman Latin), Hofer (Old Testament), Durst (Algebra), and Matthews (History/Civics), to name a few. There were also a few I didn’t particularly like: Monsignors Undreiner (History) and Clausing (college Latin). There was a spiritual advisor, a Jesuit, whose name escapes me that I was not too fond of. He was wired kinda tight.

Over the years, when people discover I had been a seminarian, I’m asked why I left. There was the sex thing of course, or total lack thereof. But the main reason I left was rebellion. I tired of people telling me not only what to do but what to think and how to conduct my life. I realized that after five years of praying up a storm and being a good little boy, I wanted to move on and take a bite out of life. I can remember reading magazine articles in the Josephinum library (a very good library) about how people were living their lives. I was especially interested in actors and acting. I imagined one day being interviewed in those magazines as a successful actor. I have never been afraid to think big. I had incredible (inflated) ambition and self confidence. I always felt I could excel at anything I wanted. I have returned to visit the Joss several times since leaving over 55 years ago. On my way shipping out to Korea (1967) I drove through the grounds in my TR-4 sports car with the top down. I heard my name called. It was Jape working outside with a seminarian. I got out of my car; we chatted briefly; I told him I was off to Korea; he blessed me; wished me luck and I drove off. Jape was wearing his old New York Yankees baseball cap just like always. That was the last time I saw Jape. I have no doubts that he kept me in his prayers.

Reunions have been held over the years at the Joss; but few of my classmates, me included, have attended. Ours was a class of cliques. I hung out with a group of guys who were considered “cool”. Two of those guys were ordained but later left the priesthood, married and raised families. It would be interesting to learn what made them leave. Both have had very successful careers; one is an attorney; the other a FEMA director. Joe Mammola graduated from Notre Dame and ended up the Dean of a liberal arts college in upstate New York; Sam Pezzillo is a retired, tenured professor (Antiquities) at the University of Alabama Birmingham. I have reconnected with some of these guys via Facebook. I have many fond memories living at the Joss and I have never regretted spending five years there.