As my favorite rock group, The Who, completed its final tour of the United States and Canada this October, I couldn’t help thinking of two unlikely inspirations for my love of their music: two Jesuit priests who taught me at Milwaukee’s Marquette University High School in the early 1970s.
It’s true: The creative instruction I received inside the classroom and out from Tom Brennan, S.J. and Chuck Burns, S.J., first turned me on to the band, one of the most famous (and certainly one of the longest-lived) of the “British Invasion” bands of the 1960s.
The Who have sold more than 12 million records and were inducted in just the third class of the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame in 1990. But I didn’t encounter them in the usual way most teenagers did.
I’d like to think that my introduction to the group exemplifies one of the ways in which Jesuits excel at delivering quality education. Marquette University High School, known to many Catholics in Milwaukee simply as “The High,” is a venerable all-male Jesuit preparatory school in a gritty section of Milwaukee’s downtown. Founded in 1857, the school is a Milwaukee institution (and one where many young men in or important to my family before me were educated). It has educated countless civic, cultural, business and religious leaders over the past 17 decades.
Among its famous alumni are actors Pat O’Brien and Spencer Tracy, NBC newscaster Tom Snyder, former University of Notre Dame running back and head football coach Terry Brennan, college basketball coaching legend Rick Majerus, NPR on-air personality Scott Detrow, member of the “St. Louis Jesuits” Dan Schutte and many others.
In 1973, Father Thomas Brennan, a respected teacher of European history and charismatic head of the school’s drama department, oversaw the scripting and production of the annual senior class “Follies” show. A fan of the culture of Great Britain, which he visited every summer, Brennan infused the play with music from the pioneering 1969 rock opera by The Who, “Tommy.”
I was in seventh grade at the time and attended the “Follies” at The High because my father was an alum and my older brother, a senior, was stage manager for the drama club’s performances. I was introduced to the rousing music of “Overture” from “Tommy” at that show. Hearing the French horns of the student orchestra strike their majestic notes had the aural effect of making me half-fearful that the sound might produce cracks in the walls of the ancient auditorium.
Such a moving experience, one caused simply by the opening notes of a rock song, made an indelible impression. It also had the effect of rendering it O.K. for 13-year-old me to think that—even in our traditional, straight-laced family, headed by a father who disdained what he called “long-hairs”—it would be alright to enjoy The Who.
Several years later, I became a student myself at The High and learned of an academic course taught by a popular Jesuit, Father Chuck Burns (who perhaps counselled more students than any other). The course focused significantly on the mysticism underlying “Tommy.” That might not have been as strange as it sounds: The album had been turned into a movie starring Jack Nicholson and Ann-Margret and was later turned into a Broadway show. In a lot of ways, it was a groundbreaking exhibition of the expanding influence of rock music on American culture.
Still, I marveled at the fact that students could get academic credit for listening to the album’s melodic yet rocky songs like “I’m Free,” “We’re Not Gonna Take It” and “Pinball Wizard.” We could use class time to analyze lyrics and decipher the album’s broader meaning, as well as its invocations to spiritual development. Many students raved about their enjoyment of the class—and of course the degree to which they had learned in a revolutionary way.
One of the biggest points of emphasis in my learning at The High was the Ignatian teaching on discernment: interpreting one’s emotions with an eye for gaining an understanding of God’s will. For a high schooler, that could mean anything from trying to determine the significance of a fun party hosted by a new friend all the way to navigating disappointments like getting rejected from one’s dream college. The point, Jesuits like Father Chuck and Father Tom stressed, was to seek to understand what the Lord intends.
I idolized members of the band more and more as time passed, especially their de facto leader Pete Townshend, and allowed some of his best music to bolster my learning curve about how the world was supposed to work. Accordingly, some of the band’s most powerful songs have since animated my life.
Examples included “Naked Eye,” which tees up the makings of a truly fulfilling life, with lyrics like:
Press any button, and milk and honey flow.
The world begins behind your neighbor’s walls.
It all looks fine to the naked eye—
but it don’t really happen that way at all.
Another favorite is “In a Hand or Face,” a song about a man’s discomfort in encountering a vagrant:
Ain’t it funny that you can’t seem to help him.
Feeling sick as he staggers away.
Is it weird that you hate a stranger?
Can a detail correct your dismay?
My exposure to the music of The Who helped me in a number of areas. First, in high school, I felt like I gained desperately-needed social acceptance for following a widely-respected band like The Who—not nothing when one is 15 years old! Second, when I later learned of some of the band’s valuable contributions to society, like Townshend’s near-Herculean efforts to help others into drug rehabilitation or the group’s support of Teen Cancer Trust (for which they raised $50 million to construct specialized hospital units for treating cancer-afflicted teens), I became more aware of and impressed by the good that could be done by well-meaning and conscientious people—even famous musicians. Frankly, I feel like The Who helped me become a better person.
Finally, the band helped me learn how to discern things I had never noticed before: perceiving the problems of others and picking up on their feelings, even getting better at noticing the pain others were enduring. I doubt that I would’ve experienced this growth without the foresight of great teachers like Father Tom Brennan and Father Chuck Burns. Thanks to the insightful and soulful instruction of these men in my formative years—and their love of a band that remains close to my heart—I truly feel that I can see for miles, and miles, and miles…
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