Maryhurst Prep 05 and 06

Maryhurst Prep 05

One adventure I will never forget occurred on a “field trip” to the St. Louis Zoo in the late autumn of our senior year. We took several of the Chaminade High School buses to the Zoo and ran around like the wild animals we were, with several of the Brothers dutifully riding herd. Perhaps our favorite stop of the trip was the Big Cat House, where all the feline carnivores were kept. In those days before informed zoo design, the big cats were housed in relatively small cages that opened outside to only slightly larger outdoor enclosures. To our delight on that particularly chilly and rainy afternoon, all the animals were inside. We moved slowly from cage to cage, marveling at the incredible power and sad majesty of the caged animals. Even then I loved-hated zoos for keeping those beautiful animals in jail until they died. I still think it horrible, though now I see the necessity better than I did in 1960.

Just as a large group of us gathered around the leopard cage a crowd of loud, ill-mannered black youths about our ages, rushed noisily into the exhibit. They saw the black panther and rudely pushed us aside so they could stand alongside the rail in front of the panther’s cage. Several of them loudly proclaimed that since it was a “black” panther they had every right to be in front of us white people.

Naturally, since we had just arrived and had not much opportunity to observe the beautiful animal, we thought such reasoning was specious, to say the least. But, being the meek little Postulants we were, we gritted our collective teeth and said nothing, pretending to be good Christians who loved their neighbors, and reluctantly allowed ourselves to be shoved to the back of the crowd.

The panther choose that moment to pace nervously to the front of the cage. Which caused quite a vociferous commotion among the black kids, especially the young men. They started yelling and shouting at the animal and stretched their arms up toward the cage to prove their courage. No sooner had the panther reached the front of the cage than he stopped, pivoted, lifted his tail and sprayed the closest members of the crowd with a potent mixture of panther piss and male marking scent (including no small amount of semen), which had to be one of the most horrific odors on the face of God’s green Earth.

Instantly, the black kids screamed, put their hands up to ward off the vile smelling liquid and tried to run. But the press of the crowd behind them prevented any hope of escape. To their disgust many of them were covered by the horribly scented spray.

Would it be a surprise to admit that we Postulants, standing now gratefully in the back of the crowd, felt more than a little gleeful satisfaction at this “poetic” but terribly rank justice?

Maryhurst Prep 06

Herb B. and I were united by more than our love of explosive danger. We also shared a fascination for snakes and during the fall would hunt them on the undeveloped edge of Maryhurst property. We caught king snakes, black snakes, garter snakes, and observed but purposely did not try to catch at least one copperhead. Actually, we caught a small snake I identified as a copperhead. But Herb disagreed, claiming it was some harmless species. Since he was holding it carefully just behind the head I stuck a small stick into its mouth and viola. On the stick were two glistening drops of liquid. Venom, I told my friend. And he knew I was right. So, very carefully, we released the little critter and watched it slither into the underbrush.

Of the snakes we caught, everyone’s favorite was one particular salt-and-pepper king snake that Herb made a pet. He was able to tame the snake almost immediately and kept it with him throughout the day. The damned thing would crawl under Herb’s shirt and stick its head out the front to survey the action. Or would curl around Herb’s neck and lay its head in a tangle of hair over his forehead. Even to me, an avid snake lover, that was pretty bizarre shit.

I had been introduced to snakes many years before in the Boy Scouts. As a freshman at McBride High School. I had read about the scientific study of reptiles in Laura Wood’s remarkable biography of the famous herpetologist, Raymond Ditmars. So Herb and his antics didn’t bother me whatsoever. But, several of our fellow Postulants were not so blasé about the little crawling critters.

Allan S. for one expressed an intense dislike for snakes and always kept a considerable distance when we were exhibiting our newly captured specimens. Which, of course, made him a target. Herb and I devised a harmless practical joke, or so we thought, for Allan’s benefit. [Author’s Note: Allan was a natural butt of many of our school-boy pranks. An arrogant, supercilious, effeminate brown-noser, and ill-tempered to boot, he was disliked by the seniors I ran with and most of the other “regular” guys. As an indication of his lack of standing, once we discovered he detested one particular nick-name, from that point on that was all anyone ever called him.]

Herb and I caught a very small non-venomous snake of a now forgotten species and plotted on how best to rag our chosen victim. Allan was neat and organized to the point of driving people around him to distraction. Everything had to be in its proper place. And since all of his possessions in his desk were stored in small boxes we figured what’s where the snake belonged, inside the old cigar box in which he kept his pens and pencils. It was delvicious, wonderful combination of delicious and nasty.

Almost everyone in our junior/senior Study Hall was aware of the nature of our practical joke or, at the very least, that we were preparing to spring one on the unsuspecting but deserving, in our eyes, Allan. So, during the Evening Study Period after dinner we watched his every move. Of course, Murphy’s Law being what it is, Allan busied himself with a textbook for an hour, never even opening his desk drawer. To our collective dismay.

Eventually Allan realized he was the center of attention and began quietly asking boys sitting around him what in the world was going on and why everyone was watching him. When his immediate neighbors innocently denied knowledge of anything out of the ordinary he went back to studying, looking up every now and then to see if he could “catch” anyone at some suspicious activity or other.

A few minutes later he opened his desk, removed the box of pencils, and placed them on top his desk. All eyes in the room riveted on him. Some of the kids were unable to suppress their anticipatory laughter. He opened the lid without looking inside and began inquiring suspiciously as to why everyone was staring at him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he must have spotted the snake emerging from the box, making a direct line for him. The sight of a snake wiggling across the desk from less than a foot away scared the living shit out of him.

Throwing his hands straight up in the air, he screamed like a girlie-man at the top of his lungs and keeled over backwards in a desperate attempt to get away from what Herb and I thought of as a cute little fellow, knocking both his desk and chair flying and landing flat on his back. Naturally, in that state of abject panic he lost what minimal motor skills he ordinarily possessed and was unable to scramble to his feet. He squirmed on the floor frantically kicking, screaming, and thrashing like the devil himself was after his sorry ass.

As can be imagined without much effort, the extraordinary uproar in the always silent Study Hall instantly brought the authorities. It didn’t take Bro Xav much more than a few seconds to come running from his office. He angrily clapped his hands and shouted for order and for someone to help Allan to his feet. Unfortunately, the poor snake did not survive the debacle. His little back must have been broken when the desk crashed to the floor and he died. Which was the real tragedy of the incident.

Of course Herb and I paid a heavy penalty for our “inconsiderate” actions but I cannot for the life of me recall the precise punishment we received. Yes, I know how cruel it was to subject Allan to such a heartless practical joke. But that’s the nature of teenage boys with time on their hands and no girls to impress. We had to apologize to Allen in front of all our classmates, that much I do recall. But try to imagine Allan flopping around the floor like a fish out of water. How could I ever forget that sight? Whatever the punishment, it was well worth it.