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College and University Days

October 30, 2025 by DickH Posted in Uncategorized Leave a Comment

College and University Days

By Leo Racicot

I loved high school French and Latin so much, I decided they would be my major and minor in college. I applied to three area colleges with those disciplines: Lowell State Teachers College here in the city, Saint Anselm’s in Manchester, New Hampshire and Assumption in Worcester. My junior high year French teacher, Madame Herlihy, kept urging me to set my sights on The Sorbonne (an exalted idea but I knew that wasn’t happening). I received acceptance letters from all three colleges and chose Assumption. My first days there didn’t go so well (another story for another time) and I left after less than a week. My departure had me so depressed; fearing it was too late to accept admission to Lowell State, I expressed my upset to my sixth grade Saint Patrick’s school teacher, Sister Loretta Francis, with whom I’d become pen pals following my graduation from there. She was now Loretta Palmacci, had left the convent and had adopted many children as her own. Loretta was sympathetic to my plight and without hesitation, intervened on my behalf with the Administration at Lowell State, asking them to allow me to start the school year late. To our great surprise and delight, they agreed and I began as a freshman there in October. When I met with Mary McGauvran, fabled Dean of Students, thanking her profusely, she said, “Who’s going to say ‘no’ to a nun?”

Saying I loved my four years there is an understatement. In those days, it was a small campus; you could count the number of classroom buildings on one hand, It had a cozy, collegiate feel to it; everyone knew everybody, if not by name, certainly by sight. It was strange at first being separated from Joe, who’d opted to attend UMass/Amherst; we’d been inseparable. But David McKean was a history major at LSC, as was Dennis Winn (who later married Joe’s middle sister, Ann Marie), Rachel Ann Morin, John Kalogeropoulos, Linda Scanlon, Bob Demers & Karen Lazarakis were there from LHS so a ‘keeping it all in the family vibe” made the new place feel familiar.

The language department was small; Leon Massicotte and I were the only guys and after a semester or so, Leon switched majors leaving me the only male at the table. Unless classes were held in Coburn Hall, the department was located in an actual house on lower Wilder Street, near the river, a compact, little bijou of a place where we’d meet in wallpapered rooms, seated on worn, old couches and easy chairs, or on the floor — no one objected. In fact, sometimes our instructors sat on the floor with us. In those days, smoking on campus and in classrooms was allowed, and though I never took up smoking, and didn’t care for the smell, I thought it so “college”, so grown-up to be among all these cool kids who were obviously so much more sophisticated than I was. The relaxed atmosphere was conducive to learning and I can still see Cheri Lyddy, engulfed in the smoke from her own cigarette as well as that of Madame Hancock’s as she (Cheri) attempted to translate a passage from Colette. Imagine students of today being allowed to smoke in class, or in most any place, for that matter. It’s strange and so dangerous to think back and remember smoking was permitted on airplanes and even in hospital rooms! My sister’s friend, Carol, used to light one up in the latter while hooked up to an oxygen tent. Ka-Boom!, I always thought.

Some memories that never leave me — the sight of Chris Bentas, professor of Antiquities, towering above us, tall as a tree, looking and speaking the way we imagined Zeus would look and speak. Chris Stein, his classroom overlooking the Merrimack, and the day he read a passage from James Joyce, about evening light upon a river, and how the scene outside the window mirrored exactly what he was reading. Arlette Clayton, pretty as a picture, liked to take us on field trips (because we were small in number and because she was impulsive, generous and kind). With her,I remember two memorable meals: one at Casa Romero in Boston’s Back Bay (I think the restaurant is still there), having queso asado and walking beside her back to her car, a floaty shawl around her shoulders, in a night air as soft and as violet as Springtime. A group meal of our French Club at Le Lyonnais in Acton: Cheri Lyddy took a picture and was disappointed when a stranger walked into the shot but I think it makes the photo composition more interesting. I was challenged by Mme. Clayton and the others to order the beef tongue. I reluctantly accepted. What came was a big, fat cow tongue, no sauce, no garnish, no nuthin’, sitting all by itself dead center on the plate. The thing looked like it had been hacked out of the cow’s mouth mere moments ago. All I had to eat that night was the chocolate mousse. I also remember the night Mme. Clayton invited us to her place to watch the Stanley Cup finals. Wine was served. I’d never been to a wine party and didn’t follow hockey or The Stanley Cup Challenge. But the excitement of the game, as it came to a nail-biting finale, fueled by the wine, was in-the-air. As Bobby Orr scored the winning move, doing so in overtime, we all lost our cool and screamed and cheered. To this day, when I hear mention of that now-historic game and The Bruins and Bobby Orr, I go back to that winning night when I felt so very grown-up being in a teacher’s home, with my classmates, the Blue Nun flowing freely.

Our class of 1975 has the distinction of being the last graduating class prior to the merger between Lowell State and Lowell Technological Institute, across the river. In the Fall of ’75, these two colleges were incorporated into The University of Lowell (South and North Campus). There had existed a strong rivalry between the two through the years, if not an out-and-out estrangement. But when they merged, the power of their union put ULowell on the world map of education. Lowell Tech had always been and continues to be world renowned for its engineering courses and still draws students from all over the globe to its halls. LSC was and still is one of the most desired meccas for those wanting to go into the healthcare field. Its Nursing Department is one of the finest there is.

Of course, the merger initiated an evolution of the place: more and more modern buildings, high profile professors, higher tuition. No longer did “everyone know everyone”; the university opened wide its doors and began to thrive almost immediately under the directorship of William “Bill” Hogan whose dream of ULowell becoming a world class institution would be realized.

In 1984, our mother passed away. She’d left Diane and me her house, our home since childhood. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to keep it going and said so to Aunt Marie. I said, “I’d better get a job” to which she replied, “You’d better get two.” Which is what I did. Franco American School was having a difficult time finding a teacher for its middle school. Apparently, the class was so wild that by Christmas break, it had scared off two female teachers, the second one in such a hurry to escape, she’d fled out the door without her shoes. Sister Gilberte, the principal, felt a male influence might tame the unruly lot. She hired me. I had barely started my stint at the school (of which I was instantly fond because my mother and her three siblings had been raised there during The Great Depression when it was an orphanage) when a small ad in The Lowell Sun caught my eye. ULowell was looking for a Stacks Manager for North Campus Library. I made an appointment to meet with Head of Circulation, John Callahan. I told him my mother had passed away and how desperately I needed work. John, who was the kindest, most caring boss I’ve ever had, hired me on-the-spot. It wasn’t long before I learned that as Stacks Manager I had no one to manage; I was Lydon Library’s only shelver. It also didn’t take long for me to discover that math and engineering students are the messiest people; no sooner had I made shelves orderly and organized than they’d tear my hard work apart, throwing books on the floor. There were times when the floor wasn’t within their aim. I once found books on the ceiling lights! There’s a certain Zen quality to the art of shelving. It can be a very relaxing task. But there was nothing relaxing about keeping the Lydon shelves in order. I’d watched the two ladies, Judith Chapman and Laura Edwards, manning the downstairs’ Circulation Desk. It looked like fun, lots more interesting than picking up after untidy science students. Working up the courage, I asked John if he might have any openings at the desk. He surprised me by saying ‘yes!’ instantly. He hired me to cover breaks and to train there at North. I took to it like a duck to water and was soon given apart-time night job at O’Leary Library, South Campus. I was to work there for ten glorious years. I was introduced to Marguerite O’Leary (former LSC president, Daniel O’Leary’s wife) and Marjorie Ryder, both heading up The Circulation Desk: both rather scary, intimidating ladies, at first anyway; I was to become good pals with Marge over our many, long years together; her bark was worse than her bite. My shift was from 4 p.m. to midnight. After a day of teaching, I’d hightail it up Pawtucket Street along the river to the library. I was exhausted but happy and I was keeping 5 Willie Street going and that was what mattered. In short order, John made me full-time Night and Weekend Supervisor (Sundays through Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays off). Looking back, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so fulfilled. Those were good, good years. I met and worked with some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, many of them Work Study students from as far away as India and Japan, and made friendships that have lasted to this day, thanks to email and the Internet. I loved my work — many people don’t know that Circulation is the heartbeat of any library. The librarians would leave at 10 every night and I was asked to step in should a patron need something from Reference or Periodicals. My sense of anything needing to be learned — the key is to observe, listen and mimic. This is the best way to learn a language and this was the way I learned how to manage areas of the library other than CIrculation. Plus, the more you do something, the more it becomes a part of you. I loved the running around of it, the energy being around students and faculty, their enthusiasm for learning. Both campuses were growing like wildfire and the sheer thrill of being at the center of it was intoxicating. In my time there, O’Leary’s entire first floor consisted of an enormous circular, black, formica desk. Covering the space between the main entrance, it then wrapped around Periodicals, all the way down to Reference and back. A true Hialeah. The first floor of the library was an all-windows, wrap-around affair, see-through in the daytime, tinted after the sun went down. We could see out but those entering couldn’t see in. A couple of kids came in nightly to jog around the desk’s racetrack circumference, and one character, Paul Couture, did so while playing the accordion; Paul was ULowell’s only-ever accordion major. Paul was one of many music students I was blessed to meet and know over at Durgin Hall, the music building, located behind the library where I spent much of my “off” time: There was Lisa Kempskie, Murray Barg & Juanita Tsu and Rob Barry and his group of musicians. The day Rob and his band of merry men took me up to Saratoga Springs on a perfect weather day was one of the best of my life. A kind, easy, quiet light fell upon us that whole day, “almost as if we were the Twelve Apostles”, Rob said. We breathed the rarefied air, the smooth music into our lungs, our beings. I’ll remember that day as long as Memory serves… I remember Dan Hanley, Nancy Bluestein and her partner, Joe. They ran a music and literary salon out of their apartment in the former Saint Peter’s School condominiums on Gorham Street. Lisa, Juanita and John Bumstead, regulars there, formed the TsuBumSki trio and became the in-house entertainment at La Boniche Restaurant on nearby Central Street, a classy hangout. Schoenberg & Schopenhauer scholar, Anne Trenkamp, would show up sometimes, as well as host small dinners in her own home. Her gatherings were so relaxed; Dr. Trenkamp would host them in her nightgown. She once told me her motto was Semper comfort! That was the year Nancy went crazy-mad for All Things Alma Mahler, Gustav’s wife. I remember Christopher McGahan, who brought back wonderful stories of his annual trip to The Glyndebourne Festival, and Peter Starrett who lived with me for a while. I got to attend so many wonderful recitals and performances: Khanyugen Ong (who loved America so much, he changed his name legally to Dan), Dan Hanley who inadvertently taught me that if I could make it through his playing of Hindemith, I could make it through the GREs. Dan’s attempts to teach me piano by starting me off with Mozart instead of something simpler like Little Brown Jug failed miserably. Rob Barry, at the age of 21, was composing brilliant musical compositions and having them performed orchestrally. In those days, Dawn Upshaw and Angelina Reaux were popular sopranos on-the-scene and I got to know both through Nancy and Joe. So many student assistants remain in my mind: Ellen Barre and her (later) husband, amazing poet Stephan Anstey, pretty Nancy Merrifield, the DiChiara sisters, Karen and Laurie, gorgeous Sue Sullivan, funny, funny Karen Manley and her boyfriend (later husband), Joe Manzi, handsome, animated Karl Moeller who, on-a-spur-of-the moment midnight run hurried Aixa Aponte and me onto the roof of a parking garage to see the full moon. He was so overcome with the sight, he kissed both of us flat on the mouth. Mark Bacon and Kevin Goddu would make it a point to stop by the desk for a chat any time they were in, ditto David Villareale & Shilpa Lele. I remember George Minor. Dear George. We lived near each other and would walk the midnight streets home together after work. I worried about George making his way through Life after graduation; he was guileless.

So many professors come to mind as I write this: Bill Hersey of the English Department (I taught with his wife, Lucille Ball look-alike, Judy, at Franco), Wayne Klug, Noel Cartwright, Gene Mellican. Librarians: Ron Karr, Sidney Johnson, Marie Anne Drouin, Richard Slapsys, Dennis Bethiaume, Rosanna Kowaleski, Helen Jones. I remember most fondly Frances Ann Grady (aka Speed Smith) and an October Day spent with her in the courtyard in front of the library that always blossomed so brightly in Autumn, enjoying a mug of vanilla ice cream in our hot coffee as the gold and ochre leaves fell around us. Fran, in her natural, open way imparted many important Life lessons to me. And how can I forget student assistant, Susheel Deshmukh, and his lovely wife, Manisha. They hosted in their home one of the most memorable meals I’ve ever had, presenting a veritable feast of dozens of native Indian dishes, so many that the whole evening was spent gorging on a smorgasbord of delicacies. At work, Susheel must have thought it was his job to be my amanuensis, always urging me to “Sit. Sit. Sit. I will do everything!” In spite of my protests, he wouldn’t let me pick up a pencil.

I remember you all.

Through the windows of the great library, I saw the coming and going of souls. I’ve often stopped to wonder where they landed in the post-college landscape. They touched me in indelible ways.

In 1993, I signed up for courses toward a Masters in Education and met the wonderful Tom Devine, who championed my writing and became a longtime friend and pen pal. I also signed up for Photography 101 with unique (to say the least) Arno Minkinnen whose self-nudes are now world renowned. I also liked Psychology professor, John Cattalozzi, his easy way with a lecture. I always looked forward to class time with him.

In 1991, ULowell was incorporated into the UMass system, becoming one with campuses at Boston, Dartmouth, Worcester and Amherst. As a student and a worker, I watched the college grow from a seedling into a citywide sequoia; its buildings and properties now cover almost every area of Lowell. Over the years, it added three housing dormitories (when I first knew it, it had one) and a slew of new buildings. In 21st century Lowell, you pretty much can’t go anywhere without seeing its many buildings, its many international students scurry-hurrying between classes on their way to their future.

In 1995, due to an ongoing illness, I took an extended sick leave from the library. When the time came for me to choose either returning to work or remaining in recovery, I chose the latter. It is one of the lasting regrets of my life that I decided to leave the beloved university behind me. It held and still holds a treasured time in my Life’s journey…