Opal
Finally, Mr. Tenety’s guide dog, a golden retriever named Opal, was everyone’s pet. It was impossible for the boys to remember that they should not distract the dog from her duties. They patted her and fed her far more than was good for her, and Opal was too friendly to ignore them. Sometimes, when the bell rang and she rose from her nap at the end of class, she took advantage of the momentary confusion to pick up someone’s lunch. If chalk fell on the floor, she was likely to eat that too. Opal and Anthony/Max had a stiff-legged rivalry, but they never fought.
During the 80’s, a husky and a setter have been rather frequent visitors, especially in bad weather, when they take refuge in classrooms or in the cafeteria, but neither has been as regular in attendance as Anthony/Max, and neither seems to have earned a nickname.
The Galloping Friars
One of the more famous animals on campus was the horse ridden by a student, Harry Feuerstein, during football games. When the black and gold scored, Harry, dressed in a Franciscan Habit, cantered along the sidelines. In later years, Brother Shane carried on the tradition. At present, few students are aware of the origins of the title “the Galloping Friars.”
Tragedy and Legend
There have been tragedies, too, of course. Not too long after the Juniorate was established, a woman who cooked for the Brothers and boys died in a fire in the kitchen. One of the early students, Raymond Murphy, died as a result of an accident while the barn was being repaired. He was laid out in the Franciscan Habit and was buried in the Brothers’ plot in Brooklyn.
Another source of legends is the school bus and its frequent breakdowns. Some freshmen actually believed that the breakdowns were planned so the athletes would build muscles pushing the bus.
When Brother Martin, one of the first faculty members, grew old, he resided at the Phoenix House and spent an hour or so daily working in the school library. During his last illness, he was prayed for daily during homeroom announcements. Leading the prayers in one of the classes, a thoroughly pragmatic student prayed, “Please make Brother Martin better, but if he’s going to die anyway, please get us a day off for the funeral.” The prayer was answered, and it was on a Friday morning that members of the Senior Class lined the aisles of St. Joseph’s Church, Kings Park, as a guard of honor during Brother’s funeral Mass.
Afterward, the school bus was made available to faculty and staff who wished to attend the interment in Brooklyn. The bus left the church first and reached the Huntington exit of the Long Island Expressway before it broke down. Ten minutes later, the funeral cortege came along and pulled over onto the shoulder. What passing motorists thought when they saw forty or so Brothers in long black robes, their white cords tossed in the wind, milling about a hearse and a school bus, has not been recorded.