Bishop McDevitt High School, Class of 1967: A Heartfelt Story about Steve Prendergast, By Joe Behe

We've been going back over 50 years to remember classmates and what it was like as teenagers in Bishop McDevitt High School. And then, in present day, we are getting to know classmates like we could not have known them then.

Planning for the Bishop McDevitt Class of 67's 50th Year Reunion has been quite an inspirational and enlightening experience. Some classmates I have not seen in 50 years, many I knew then, and many I did not know in the class of 400. I have been impacted in viewing and updating the list of classmates no longer with us, from the very first one, Harry Beech who died in 1969 while serving in Viet Nam, and the most recent Joyce Donato Zeiger, who passed this month on September 5.

Joe Behee

In connecting with classmates, I discovered that there are great stories to be told, memories we have of ourselves and our classmates; stories that reveal the true heart of individuals; stories that tell what was and is inside our heads that we did not directly reveal then, may have even hidden from public view, and still may be hidden; stories that tell what we did not know about classmates then, but are learning about them now, a half century later. I have come upon one such story that needs to be shared with our classmates and beyond. It's from Joe Behe, who now lives in Ireland. It's about Steve Prendergast. I have permission from Joe to publish it, so here it is in Joe's words as sent to me by email.

I title this story . . . .

"My Soft-Spoken Friend, Steve, Had Steel "

Dear Jim (aka 'Bear')

These are my recollections of Steve Prendergast, our classmate. I am an old man now so I beg you forgive vagaries of memory and grammar.

Steve Prendergast was a quiet, modest, unassuming friend and classmate of mine, a member of our Bishop McDevitt graduating class of 1967; and thereafter, a long-welcomed acquaintance of my own family. I cannot recall Steve ever raising his voice in anger or excitement. He was simply 'there', a soft voice when one was needed if only to tamp-down the teenage excesses to which some of his fellow classmates (myself included) were occasionally inclined during the unsettled and boisterous mid-1960s.

Quiet, Steve, might have passed unnoticed on our adolescent radar screens for four years; however, there was one occasion when he flashed across the night sky in a defiant flare-up at (of all people) the late Larry Bekelja, who ran our Phys Ed class with all the grim determination and intensity one would expect from the motivated football coach Mr. Bekelja was.

Steve did not play football.

I happened to have Phys Ed classes one year with Steve; likely it was 1965. One afternoon we reported to Tracy Hall for our Phys Ed class and noticed several thick hemp ropes lashed to the ceiling and trailing down to the hardwood gym floor. The floor beneath each rope was covered with a thin foam wrestling mat, the same mats we used for running and 'tumbling' over one another the previous week and which resulted in more student casualties than General Sherman wreaked at the Battle of Atlanta.

Mr. Bekelja blew the ever present whistle hung round his neck and informed all of us in no uncertain terms that we were going to climb up and down one of those ropes before we left. There were 30-35 in the class. Informed of the drill, most (myself included) huddled up in a mass not wanting to be first called.

Not to be outmaneuvered, Mr. Bekelja came over to the mostly cowed crowd and touched each on the shoulder pronouncing "Group 1; Group 2; Group 3; now break-up in three groups and stand behind one of the three ropes."

I recall that my line included, (the late) John Murphy, (the late) Melvin Quintana, myself, and Steve Prendergast, who would be first up to face the rope.

Glancing sidelong, we could not help but see the struggles, slips, falls, and hear the rope-burn wailing coming from the other 'rope a dopes' who had already begun their ascent.

Steve stood silently watching the others. A whistle blew. 'Prendergast! Get up that rope! You're not leaving here 'till you do.'

The answer came whispering back from Steve: "No, Coach." Steve repeated ever so slightly louder: "No, Coach."

The Coach was not at all pleased.

Even the threat of detention did not dissuade Steve from his decision. He would not climb the rope. Asked for a show of hands as to how many others joined Steve in his refusal, several went up and all were excused.

I don't know if anyone ever served detention for the defiance. Time allotted for that Phys Ed period ran out (thanks to Steve) before I ever faced the rope and had to decide.

Common sense and character are rare now so more than ever, but my soft-spoken friend, Steve, had the steel for it over 50 years ago.

Eternal Rest Grant Unto Him O Lord!

Joe Behe, Jr.

Class of 1967

So, what do you think? Is that not a geat story that speaks about the hearts of two classmates, that tells us something about who they were then and who they are now? And yet, most of us really don't want to share personal experiences and feelings. They stay hidden behind a face, a high school picture, or a present day portrait. I encourage you to open up some and let people inside your life, what goes on in your head, what you are like. You might be surprised how rewarding that can be to you and to others around you.

Everyone has a great story to tell about themselves and and others around them. Let's hear yours.

Steve Prendergast's obituary was posted here previously.