I felt like a bit of an outsider during my early high school years, focusing on my studies, while commuting to a private school outside of the neighborhood I grew up in. I attended an all-boys school (South Hills Catholic – SHC). The school nickname was the “Rebels” and our fight song was “Dixie,” believe it or not, before all of that changed. Our school administrators and many of the teachers were from the Christian Brothers religious order, associated with the Catholic church. Though the Christian Brothers took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, as students we found them to be an intelligent and progressive group of teacher-mentors. The order has key principles of faith, proclamation of the gospel, respect for all people, quality education, concern for the poor and social justice. In practice the education was college preparatory and offered a humanities-oriented curriculum. The school eventually merged with Elizabeth Seton, an all-female Catholic school run by the Sisters of Charity of Seton Hill, and renamed as Seton-Lasalle High school, long after I had graduated.
As a private school student body, we came from different backgrounds and neighborhoods. Some of us from church parishes within the city were trying to escape the public school system, and others from the more affluent suburbs who also attended, due to the academic reputation and religious instruction found at SHC. This was a whole new world to me, the kids who lived in larger houses and aspired to the best colleges. By the time of my senior year, I had gravitated to spend time with a small yet memorable set of classmates / close friends. At the time I thought that we were quite the diverse group, though in retrospect not so much. Three of us from closer to the city (myself, Michael Finnegan, and Tim Zugates) somehow bonded with the more suburban pair (Pete Fleming and Fred Schumacher). Michael was a tall boisterous Irishman and Tim was streetwise but friendly. Fred flaunted his wit and humor; and we all made fun of him in a good-natured way. Pete was the smart, calm stable member of the group.
We would meet up at occasional events and attended basketball games as a group. Tim was a varsity basketball starter and we all cheered for him, following the team through its regular seasons and into the playoffs. Memorably, we watched him be called for traveling at the end of the state championship game, as he drove for the attempted winning basket, and never let him live it down. He laughed about it and liked to demonstrate his travel for us. The rest of us were basketball wannabees, limited by poor shooting and / or slow feet. Fifty years later, the school gym remains unchanged.
We never got into trouble, though we all knew kids who did; we did not drink or smoke, we just hung out together. On one fateful evening in the spring of our senior year, we piled into Fred’s compact car (Opel Kadett, an exotic German car to us), went on a ride to play basketball together down near the Castle Shannon trolley station. Stopping to eat at the newly opened McDonalds restaurant, we were just hanging out together and having fun. I remember when we ordered our meals no one claimed to have any money, and Michael had to pay for all of us. A few dollars total for the group. Then, as Fred proceeded to drive us home, a drunk driver crossed the center line of the road and hit us head on. Lights out. Fred got the worst of it, two broken arms and a fractured jaw. Tim in the front seat broke his leg in two places. Michael and Pete escaped relatively unharmed. I apparently smashed my head into the seatback, suffered a concussion and was knocked out. I woke up in the hospital. We all laughed when the nurse’s found money on all of us, we were holding out at McDonalds, there you go. We renamed the Opel as the “accordion car.” The “accordion car” after the accident; here is photo of the result.
I was released from the hospital a day later. We mercilessly teased Fred because he could not speak for a month with his jaw wired shut, while his arms remained in large stiff casts. Tim was on crutches for several weeks. My father somehow negotiated with the insurance companies and eventually settled for $500 dollars; I thought it was an incredible amount at the time.
We all recovered and headed off to college. Tim received a basketball scholarship to Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, though he was never able to play much because of his injuries. Pete went off to Notre Dame and Fred attended Boston College. I received a partial scholarship to study biology at the University of Virginia, but the thought of such an adventure out of state was too much for me. And truth be told I was in fear of the language requirements at UVA. That would have resulted in an alternate life for me… In the end Michael and I both went to Penn State. He was wild and crazy, but a good moral person, and I was the engineering nerd; he would try to drag me along to parties and outings, I would often hold back. At the end of my freshman year, I broke my thumb (playing basketball of course), and was at home healing up through the summer. Michael and Tim decided to go backpacking through Europe and begged me to come along. I could not even imagine doing that, I stayed back and off they went. Apparently, they had no money and nowhere to stay and almost throttled each other; it must have been memorable. I wish I had gone along; I was never a risk taker. Back home we would ride around together, sit together in restaurants and comment on the people and world around us. I think that I developed my somewhat odd sense of humor from spending time with them.
As the years passed, we lost touch with Fred and Pete, who had moved to other states. Pete graduated from Notre Dame and had a successful business career, living in Ohio and for several years commuting to Pittsburgh while working for a branch of the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland. Fred became a lawyer, it suited him; he lived for many years in Georgia with his wife who was born in Bogota Columbia. I never met her. Michael also eventually got a law degree and joined the FBI; he said that he always wanted to be a cop. He met his wife at Penn State, she was a total tomboy and a wonderful girl from a small town in eastern Pennsylvania. We loved that in her. And Tim? After college, he married a classmate, became a guidance counselor at our high school, and stayed there his whole career. Along the way he stayed close to the basketball life; coaching, refereeing, and announcing. I read that he retired this past year. He was an admired institution at South Hills Catholic / Seton-LaSalle.
For several years through and after college, Michael, Tim, and I stayed close in touch. Tim and I remained the closest, he would often come over to visit my mom Louise and played golf with my dad and I, and I after college I would visit his house whenever I returned to Pittsburgh. Tim and Michael both came to my dad’s funeral; it was nice to have them there. I probably have not seen either in ten years or more. None of them have a presence on social media. I did receive an invite to my 50th high school reunion, Tim was organizing it of course, but I could not get up there for that. Sadly, Fred is no longer with us. He suffered a stroke after falling down the stairs at his house, and never recovered. I understand that his daughter gave a wonderful eulogy which everyone thought was spot on; that Fred was kind of hippie in his day, his travels, his English major, his sarcasm and wit and good humor.
I think about fate and friendships, college choices and careers and close friends who helped shape us. This group drew me out of my shy cautious self and gave me enough confidence to succeed in the larger world. And across our alternate lives. We are what we make of this one life though, and those who are part of it carry on with us. Our experiences and memories may recede through time, but we never forget. The four of us remaining need to get back together again. We were the Best Five.