On October 4, 1965, the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Stephen of Hungary’s student body marched up to Third Avenue to wave to Pope Paul VI driving by on his way to Yankee Stadium in his limousine.This was important to me on a few levels:
- We were getting out of sixth grade early.
- The New York Yankees stunk in 1965 and having the Pope say a Mass on their home field should help their future prospects.
- I’d have free rein to look at all the older girls in the school, and they couldn’t do anything about it.
“What are you looking at?”
‘Ha, ha,’ I’d think, not say.
The Franciscan priests in our parish were good guys and the nuns & the students got into the spirit of the day each year, whether the Pope showed up or not. Plus, I loved the guy. St. Francis was cool. I loved animals and he blessed them. Every two years, the school ran a movie of the Life of St. Francis in the auditorium getting us out of a class for a Friday afternoon. The movie wasn’t bad, and I admired the comfort of only wearing a robe with a rope belt, best uniform every invented, and Italy was beautiful and I considered it a place I definitely would visit down the road. After lunch, we lined up outside the school and like a gaggle of 300 geese we waddled up 82nd Street to the avenue, where we stood against police saw horses on the east side of Third between 81st & 82nd Street.
Earlier that morning, I served 8am mass with a guy in my class, Michael Toth, who was a big pain in my ass. One of those guys that always had to be first in everything: out the door, on line for the water fountain, first at bat in punch ball. Toth located a Siamese pipe connection right behind us against a building, and used it to sit on, its shape perfect for a kid’s bottom. We waited a long time, and Toth planned to stand on it when the Pope went by for a better view. Toth kept coming over and telling everyone how comfortable it was and how he was going to have a perfect view, and if anyone tried to sit there he’d run over and throw them off. We all wanted him dead.
While he’s doing this, I’m eating a Devil Dog the long way, taking the two cake parts apart and starting to lick the creme out of the middle, when Toth comes over to tell Freddy Muller, “Ha. ha, I’ve got a great seat,” While he’s yapping to Freddy, I slip one half of my half licked Devil Dog onto the Siamese connection, creme side up. Toth satisfied with himself, sits on it and he’s so caught up he doesn’t notice. The nun, sick of Toth popping up and down moves over to straighten him out, Toth pops up again on his way over to brag some more. The nun notices the Devil Dog sticking to his pants and smacks Toth in the head thinking he’s an idiot. After she hits him she says, “Wipe yourself off, wood head.”
Toth puzzled about everything, reaches behind and grabs most of the cake, and I could tell by the look on his face he was praying it wasn’t dog crap. Meantime, the Pope’s a half block north of us. I missed him, Toth missed him, and the nun hit Toth again because she missed him, too.
Above us from a window, I heard the We Five singing on the radio,
“When I woke up this morning, you were on my mind.”
I returned my focus to the older girls.
