Father Solanus Casey, Revised and Updated. Catherine Odell

      Following a New Direction (1891–1898)

      When Barney went to talk with Sacred Heart Parish’s Fr. Edmund Sturm, he knew only that he wanted to move toward priesthood. Beyond that, he had almost no ideas about the kind of ministry he wanted to do or the sort of seminary he should choose.

      Fr. Sturm listened to the young man seated in front of him, dressed in the trim, dark uniform of a streetcar motorman. He seemed a likable fellow. Though the Caseys had only recently moved into his parish, the pastor had heard quite a bit about them. He was very impressed with the young man’s parents, Ellen and Bernard Sr. And the town of Superior was impressed with the “Casey All-Brothers Nine,” a baseball team composed of the Casey brothers, for which young Barney fearlessly played catcher.

      After listening to what the young fellow had to say, Fr. Sturm quietly suggested that he apply for admission to St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee. This was the same “German seminary” where Barney’s brother Maurice had been enrolled. His brother’s attempt to study for the priesthood there had ended disastrously, Barney knew very well. Maurice had come home convinced that he was both a failure and a deep disappointment to his family. But Barney took Fr. Sturm’s advice and made plans to follow the path Maurice had taken. He believed that this was the life God wanted for him and God would move him toward this goal.

      Barney stood up, shook hands with his pastor, and left. The anxious, heavy feeling that had been burdening him seemed to be gone. He walked out of the rectory and made his way to the streetcar station, where he was to begin work within the hour. Later in the day, he would tell his family about the new track he would be taking.

      At the Casey household, Barney’s news was greeted with great joy. Ellen and Bernard Sr. were almost speechless, although they had suspected that Barney had been thinking of such a move. Their son explained that he would have to enroll at the high school level with fourteen-year-old boys. At that, fifteen-year-old Gus told Barney that he would be one semester ahead of Barney, his older brother, who would begin in the middle of the school year. But Barney wasn’t disturbed by that prospect. In fact, he was eager to begin.

      So, in January 1892, a few months after the streetcar episode in Superior, Barney was in school in cold and snowy Milwaukee. This was a different world, conducted in a language he didn’t know. At dinner, during recreation, and in classes, young Casey found himself immersed in a German world. Barney probably didn’t realize it, but St. Francis Seminary was already at the center of a controversy over ethnic bias — a common concern during these decades of immigrant settlement. Long before he set foot in St. Francis, the controversy had been brewing.

      The Diocese of Milwaukee was founded in 1843, and the diocesan seminary had begun to enroll young men in 1856. Even in its first year, according to its rector, Fr. Michael Heiss, German and Irish Catholics were defensive about the seminary’s direction. “Some thought that the seminary would become an institution solely for the Germans,” Fr. Heiss said. “When, however, we also accepted Irish youths, certain parties spread the suspicion that it was planned to displace the Germans gradually and to make the seminary Irish.”

      German worries were largely misplaced. The diocesan seminary began with a German staff and emphasis, and remained that way for some years. The seminary staff was assigned by Bishop John Henni, the first bishop of Milwaukee, who had come with strong German associations from the diocese of Cincinnati. Nonetheless, it was true that the Irish clergy — both native-born and foreign-born — were clearly trying to gain their own foothold in the German establishment. German clerics in Wisconsin undoubtedly felt that defensiveness about Irish leadership was justified. Over half of all Catholic bishops in the United States from 1789 to 1935 were Irish, even during decades when Irish Catholics represented only 17 percent of the Catholic population. German Catholics had a saying that expressed this fear: Mit der Sprache ghet der Glaube (“With language goes faith”). If they lost their right to worship in their native tongue and to teach their children that language, they feared that their children would lose the faith as well.

      When Archbishop Henni was about to retire in 1878, both American and Irish priests wrote letters aimed at discouraging the appointment of another German. They wrote to Archbishop James Gibbons of Baltimore, pointing out that the archbishop of Milwaukee and the bishops of the other two Wisconsin dioceses, La Crosse and Green Bay, were German, as were all ecclesiastical officials. There had never been an English-speaking priest in any of these positions. In spite of these efforts, however, Bishop Michael Heiss, the German bishop of La Crosse, succeeded to the archbishopric of Milwaukee in 1880, and was followed by another bishop of German background, Frederick Xavier Katzer, in 1891.

      Barney Casey came to Milwaukee just about one year after Archbishop Katzer. Thus, while Archbishop Katzer struggled with Irish-German sensitivities at the chancery across town, one of his newest seminarians did battle in the classroom.

      At a German seminary, German and Latin were required courses. It was in the academic arena that Barney began to understand the pains and frustrations that life can bring. Stress — and, possibly, living in the cold rooms in this five-story seminary near Lake Michigan — contributed to his frequent attacks of quinsy sore throat.

      Barney was well-liked at St. Francis. Though quite a bit older than his classmates, he did not put himself above them in any way. To help pay for his tuition, he even became the seminary barber. Since students rose at 5:30 a.m. and were required to follow a rigid daily routine, the barbering job took time away from study, and Barney struggled to fulfill all of his obligations.

      Although he had to work hard at his studies, he also took time to skate on the big rink during the winter and to play ball during the warmer months. When he assumed the role of catcher for the first time, however, he shocked his classmates. To their horror, and despite their appeals, he refused to wear a catcher’s mask. With a quiet grin, the wiry young man simply made a huge Sign of the Cross in the air where balls would be zooming in and bats would be swinging at dangerous speeds. Then, he crouched down on his haunches and proceeded to play.

      This approach seemed to epitomize his particular spirituality: those who came in contact with him sensed a deep spiritual quality about him. He was extremely and deeply prayerful, they noticed. But he was very approachable, too.

      Despite his busy schedule, Barney did extremely well at his studies during his first semesters. The school years of 1892, ’93, and ’94 passed in a blur of unceasing work, broken only by some vacation and time spent with his family back in Superior. During the 1894–95 school year, Barney was able to raise his grades high enough to enter the “fifth class,” which was actually the first year of college seminary training. During the second semester of the 1895–96 term, however, his grades dropped seriously, and seminary officials brought the young man in to talk to him frankly. They told Barney they doubted he could handle the academic demands that further college-level seminary work would require of him, and he was asked to leave.

      Barney couldn’t completely understand their concerns. He had earned grades in the 70s in Latin, algebra, geometry, and history, and in the 77-to-85 range in German. In vocal music, U.S. history, and natural philosophy, his marks were in the 85-to-93 range. His grades in Christian doctrine and English were also good, just as they had been during the first semester. His marks were a bit low in some areas, but he clearly was not failing. So, it mystified him. Why was he being dismissed from