A few days ago, the postman delivered my quarterly College of Saint Elizabeth Alumna magazine. On the cover were members of the class of '13 surrounding the outgoing President, Sister Francis Raftery. The banner read, "Sister Francis Raftery Tribute Edition. As I thumbed through the pages, as I do every time it comes, I looked quickly to see if anyone from the class of 1975 posted any news or in a picture with other alumni. I then went back and slowly read through the magazine. I remember Sister Francis teaching elementary education majors. Walking by her classroom, I'd hear her passion for her teaching and for her students. During basketball season, a daily prayer was chanted for the Seton Hall University basketball team to reach the NIT championship game. Her brother, Bill, was the coach. I often wax sentimentally about my days at St. E's but it was more so this time.
It was troubled times during my tenure at the college. We were still winding our way through the Vietnam War, a recession had hit the economy, Watergate was raging, and the College of St. Elizabeth let the first of the Protestants in the door in 1971. A professor remarked the class of 1975 was the first serious class since World War II. We were more interested in politics and the state of the nation than we were in swallowing goldfish. We were a challenging lot and we were divided.
Two things that made it difficult for the college was the drop in enrollment (which is why Protestants were let in) and the College President. Quite frankly, the Sisters of Charity didn't know what to do with us, nor we with them. It was so easy to pick us out. Unbeknownst to the "others" (the code name given to us Protestant gals) classes started with a prayer. Everyone stood up, Sister began the prayer, people around us recited and we stood dumbfounded. Those of us with a public school pedigree couldn't wrap our heads around prayer and chalk. Sister Helen Marie Morris, in the midst of beseeching God for guidance, looked at us with fire and we looked around for the marshmallows.
Along with the new class of freshman came a new College President, Sister Elizabeth, who did not share her predecessor's view on staff. Sister Hildegard looked past the most obvious thing at a Catholic institution, religion, and hired an immensely talented and turned out popular professor, Dr. Lowenstein. That's right, not Lowenstine which would be German, Lowenstein, which was Jewish. Almost everyone wanted to be in her English literature class. We got up at 3:00 a.m. just to be the first in line to register for it. Groans were heard wafting out of the Administration building when her classes closed. Solemn faces walked across the campus, up to dorm rooms where an array of vodka and gin bottles came out of hiding places to ease the tragedy. On the first day of class, Dr. Lowenstein glided up to the lectern, cast her eyes upon us and declared, "Congratulations, you are the winners. Now let's get to work." We felt blessed, but the blessing didn't last.
Dr. Lowenstein was up for tenure in the spring and we were excited for her. But not so fast as Sister Elizabeth had a surprise. Dr. Lowenstein was not to return in the fall. We could not have "those kind" on the faculty. The campus erupted, we walked out of classes, we demanded a meeting with the President and we got one. But to no avail. What shocked many of us was the silence of many of our classmates. It destroyed our class. Two years later at graduation, when the main speaker asked us to stand up and show what we thought of the job Sister Elizabeth was doing as President, many of us sat on our hands. Gasps came from our parents and families, people on the dais turned white. Those who stood turned to the rest of us and with pleading faces waved their hands for us to get up. Slowly, ever so slowly we did and just stood silent.
It seems a bit amiss these memories come to the fore while I swell with a bit of pride for being a College of St. Elizabeth alumni. That pride comes with having learned so much at the feet of women like Sister Jackie Burns. A fabulous History professor, she demanded and demanded and demanded of us and we thrived on it. And she taught us pride. One day as we were winding up a junior seminar class we were moaning AGAIN about the fact there were no men on campus. Offhandedly, someone asked what's the point of an all woman's college. All at once, Sister Jackie slammed her hand on the table. What she said came out like a torrent. She took a deep look into each of our eyes and said because we were to become leaders. On a coed campus, if there is a class president, it would be a man, editor of the newspaper...man, sports leaders...men....valedictorian...man. At the College of St. Elizabeth, all leadership and all leaders are women. Gaining those skills, building that self reliance, possessing a first rate education, knowing who we are and where we want to go...only that comes at an all woman's college. We were silent as we walked out. All these years later, I appreciate all that I learned and all that I was given and no truer words were ever spoken.
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