|
“You can always work even harder”: Rev. Henry E. Bean, S.J.
By Edward Finn ’43
 “Forsan haec olim meminisse iuvabit” – Ovid
In September 1940—almost as far back as the dear, dead days beyond recall—the Class of 1943 returned to Holy Cross to begin its sophomore year. I was pursuing a bachelor of arts degree—and was one of 24 students who found themselves in Section B, to study our two “majors,” Latin and rhetoric. The designated professor was Rev. Henry E. Bean, S.J.
Fr. Bean, according to unimpeachable sources in the junior and senior classes, was an excessively demanding taskmaster. Such dire caveats caused several of us to request transfer out of Section B to anywhere else. This appeal proved futile, as the dean of sophomores soon made clear. Our fate was sealed.
The first day of class featured two meaningful pronouncements by our redoubtable instructor. The first was along these lines: “I’d like to mention something at this time, since to say it at a later date could be awkward or embarrassing: I don’t want a Christmas present.”
During the moment it took for this to sink in, we looked at each other, then at him, in puzzled silence. I can only imagine how our non-verbals screamed the message, “Who, us? To you? Fat chance!”
His next remark was less stupefying, but more ominous … “Fellows, remember this throughout the school year and for the rest of your lives: no matter how hard you think you’re working, you can always work even harder. Always.”
Which he proceeded to prove, forthwith.
He pushed us and stretched us … to our everlasting benefit. By year end, we had all discovered the validity of his nuts’n’bolts approach to hard work. Indeed, that awareness has been inspiring—and consoling—during my entire working life.
But were our classes grindingly oppressive? Anything but! It was “Harry” Bean’s superb tutelage in both subjects that so prepared us to deal with life and with those we encountered while living it.
For most of “B” it was our sixth year of Latin, so we translated, reasonably well, the historian Tacitus’ original annals of Rome’s rise, glory and decline. But the real thrust of the course, imparted forcefully by Fr. Bean, was learning why and how this once-exemplary republic flourished and foundered as it did.
The formal definition of rhetoric is “the science which discovers and reduces to system the rules of persuasive speech.” Father brought this bland concept to life. The insights he gave us into motivation and behavior used examples as variegated as Abraham Lincoln or Lizzie Borden. And they were dynamic, and we understood them and learned.
He revealed to us the “connect” between our studies and the intense times in which we lived. How intense? Consider as a backdrop, the world around us. …
The year-old war in Europe saw France defeated and England being hammered by the Luftwaffe. At home, Franklin D. Roosevelt was defying tradition by seeking a third presidential term, an election that would have an impact on our nation’s decision about the war in Europe: Isolation? Support? Involvement?
All learning is discovery, and Fr. Bean coached us to discover. He provided clarity, and—as we began to realize—warmth and gentle good humor. He was theatrical, but not hokey; down to earth, but not earthy; dramatic, but not corny. Of all the teachers and mentors I’ve had, very few made it even close to the man in charge of Sophomore B.
A final note/gloat: The resourceful lads in “B” did manage to circumvent the ban on gifts. On the last day of class— June 3, 1941—we gave Fr. Bean a couple of one-pound tins of premium pipe tobacco. It was received with appreciation and grace; he knew that it conveyed respect and affection in far greater measure than the 24 thin wallets which funded this modest tribute.
***
Ovid’s magnificent phrase translates to the mellow prediction: Perhaps some day it will be pleasant to remember this. It is indeed, Father. Thank you.
Ed Finn departed Holy Cross after completing his sophomore year. He has been gainfully employed ever since, primarily in sales, sales management and sales training. This career path gave him more than his share of fabulous friendships. Among Ed’ s favorite words to live by is the expression, “there’s no substitute for having been there.”
More essays:
Above and Beyond the Call: Peter Parsons
A Constant Revelation: Thomas Lawler
The Critical Questions: William Morse
"You can always work even harder": Rev. Henry E. Bean, S.J.
The Potential This Day May Hold: Helen Whall
Always Be Open to the Possibilities: Ogretta McNeil
The Liberator: Bill Grattan
|
