Chronicling the history of
Strake Jesuit, telling the story of the people and the tales that have
been woven together over the first 50 years to become the school we see
today, is not an enviable task. But it was a task gratefully accepted by
Mr., Robert Cremins. A former member of the Strake Jesuit faculty for 17
years, Mr. Cremins is an accomplished writer, a published author, and a
product of a Jesuit high school education.
This page offers simply a glimpse of the work that will become the full
story of "We Are...SJ."
Click on an event, person, or period of time to get a taste of what will
be a must-read as the final publication.
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from Chapter 1- "Rich Roots"
"Those
alumni (alumni of other Jesuit institutions
who now lived in Houston) especially
interested in getting the Jesuits to come to town formed themselves
into an advisory committee that met at the home of lawyer Daniel
Sheehan. The group included men whose names would resonate down the
decades of Strake Jesuit’s history, as sons and grandsons attended the
school: George Brueggeman, Hubert Ried, Jim Saccomanno, Dick Hollern,
and Wally Schindel. Arguably the key figure in this effort was G.
Harris Emig, a 1922 graduate of Jesuit High School, New Orleans. Mr.
Emig convinced his old classmate, Fr. Laurence O’Neill, by then
Provincial of the Southern Jesuits, that a prep school in Houston was
a viable idea."
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from Chapter 3 - "The
Creativity of Growth"
"Life
at Jesuit in the 1960s involved freedoms and constraints that may
raise the eyebrows of today’s students and parents. A 1968 article
mentions that tuition was exactly $500 (with scholarships available).
Early alumni such as John Glover ’65 remember stopping off in the
wilds of Alief on the way home to do a little bit of duck hunting. If
a student did not have the luxury of a car or truck, he might have to
be patient. The city buses went only as far west as Sharpstown Mall,
so the Jesuits did three morning and afternoon runs in a green VW van,
ferrying students to and from campus along a still partially unpaved
Bellaire Boulevard. Fr. Bahlinger would never forget “walking waist
deep in [flood] water” to the mall to let those bus-dependent students
know that school had been cancelled for the day. When conditions were
merely muddy, a tractor came in handy. And even regular driving had
its limitations. The Southwest Freeway had still not come very far
southwest."
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