On the grounds of the lush campus where the Brothers Novitiate once stood in Barrytown, NY

A Lasallian Remembers the Novitiate

The Novitiate at Barrytown where young men became Brothers

Many of us came from working class ethnic parishes in New York City, and from urban centers throughout New York, Michigan, New England, and New Jersey. Whether a noble teacher sparked an interest in imitation, we felt an attraction or calling from God Himself, or the physical setting had a supernatural allure to an impressionable mind, we came with a single intent. Each pursued a dream to become a Christian Brother. For some, that pursuit lasted a few weeks, but for others it persisted for years into a lifetime.

Each entrant was subjected to a vocabulary that was peculiar to Barrytown. A confusing array of letters introduced the client to PB, PD, and PF. One learned the patois that included nouns and verbs like castle, bait, flookie, the world, and the dreaded appellation of “slasher.”

Barrytown etched one’s senses of smell: onion grass in spring spread to the milk on the table in the refectory; rotten eggs was the outdoor drinking fountains; the trek through the farm induced recollections of lowing cows, grunting pigs, and clucking chickens. More pleasant associations might be the whiff of pancakes, corn fritters, and French toast in the morning; freshly mowed hay in the summer; and the liturgical smell of candles and incense.

Barrytown also evoked recollections of sounds new to most novices. Bells (electronic or hand held) regulated life and the tempo of each day from rising to retiring. The tolling of the angelus generally signaled meals. The cracking of ice on bitter cold nights sounded like rifle shots. The eerie sound of the train whistles was an enticement to another world to some or a beckoning home. And who would forget the beauty of Gregorian Chant or the novices honoring God with their voices.

Visual recollections have to include: the rose bedecked outdoor stations; the Northern Lights dancing above Hunter Mountain; golden sunsets slinking across the Hudson to hide behind the Catskills until another day.

Young Brothers pictured on the steps of Barrytown circa 1960

As sure as the sun rising the next day, one may be assured that the images of Barrytown will surface again in the minds of those who experienced it despite years that may intervene. Perhaps the most vivid recollection of Barrytown resides in the personalities encountered there. Lifelong friends engender a sense of nostalgia as they trade memories of the place. To some, the gamut of experiences runs from Camelot to Stalag 17. Somehow joy and humor win out over complaints and unpleasant associations. Humor helped dissolve the connections to unsavory menus that assaulted the palate, or the drone of a reader during meals, or alien customs like advertisements. The appreciation of the participants swells when one considers that for a minor financial investment, the entrant was entitled to room, board, laundry, 24/7 supervision, virtually individual instruction by great teachers, and as one veteran noted, “companions of approved virtue.”

To all who entered Barrytown for even a brief period, the discipline of schedule, the prayer life, the physical challenge of sports and fresh air, the counseling and peer influences became lifetime character attributes. More than nostalgia marks the contribution to the lives of them (or us). As such, the memory of Barrytown transcends the ordinary and places it among the life-altering amalgams for those fortunate enough to share its glories.

Richard O’Prey is a retired teacher and author living in New York