By Christina Moran '07
Two weeks before Christmas break in 1994, former ASUP president Matt Elerding told the Rev. Art Schoenfeldt, C.S.C., that he was stressed out about schoolwork and extracurricular obligations. Added to that, the UP senior was running out of cash, but didn't want to have to call his parents for help.
That night, Elerding found two $20 bills slipped under his dorm room door with a handwritten note from Schoenfeldt advising the young man not to spread himself so thin that he forgets who he is and what's important in his life.
According to English professor Louis Masson, this act of generosity was typical of "Padre," as Schoenfeldt was called by students and alumni.
"He was just a really great priest in the best sense of the word," Masson said.
Schoenfeldt died of complications from his lifelong struggle with Crohn's disease on Dec. 9 at Holy Cross House at Notre Dame. He was 77.
Schoenfeldt's family has been acquainted with UP for generations - his grandfather helped pay for Christie Hall, the second-oldest building on The Bluff. Schoenfeldt graduated from Columbia Prep, which was located on the UP campus, and returned to The Bluff in the late 1970s.
Masson remembers Schoenfeldt for his instrumental role in founding and maintaining UP's Schoenfeldt Distinguished Visiting Writers Series. Since 1988, the series has featured some of the most renowned writers in the country, including Ursula Le Guin, Peter Matthiessen, Craig Lesley and David James Duncan.
When Masson casually mentioned to the long-time Holy Cross priest that a program featuring prominent authors would benefit the English Department, he was surprised at how quickly Schoenfeldt responded to his unofficial request. Within a few days, Schoenfeldt told Masson his family would be able to contribute some money as a stipend for the visiting authors.
Schoenfeldt asked Masson which author he thought should be the series' first visiting writer. It would be great to bring National Book Award winner Barry Lopez, Masson said, but the series could only offer a very modest sum compared to what Lopez was usually offered.
Two days later, Schoenfeldt called Masson to say Lopez had agreed to come to UP. Turns out, Schoenfeldt met Lopez in the 1960s while the priest was recuperating at a dude ranch. Schoenfeldt's exceptionally vast network of friends and acquaintances, Masson said, was one of his most significant gifts.
"You find out that Art just knew all kinds of people," Masson said.
Portland Magazine Editor Brian Doyle, who helps organize the writers series, said Schoenfeldt reached out to an incredible number of people, especially considering that he never held an official job on campus aside from a brief stint as a hall director.
"He healed and helped and listened to thousands of people," Doyle said. "He leaves a lot of holes in hearts."
Schoenfeldt lived on the UP campus until recently when his health began to fail. The priest had somewhat of an awkward demeanor, Masson said, with a big nose, big glasses and a quirky wardrobe that Doyle remembers as including bright green golf shorts and checkered golf shirts.
"It was like you wanted to cover your eyes," Doyle said with a laugh, adding that Schoenfeldt never played golf.
Even though the priest had an innocent and childlike appearance, he had a knack for convincing people to do things without actually asking them to do them, Masson said. Most campus officials would have to wait weeks for checks to be cut, but Schoenfeldt would just go and sit in the appropriate office, waiting until someone got fed up and cut him the check.
Doyle remembers similar experiences when Schoenfeldt would arrive unannounced to his office and sit patiently, waiting for him to agree to his request.
"You couldn't devoid him," Doyle recalled.
But Schoenfeldt's true legacy is the relationship he had with students and alumni, Doyle and Masson said.
Elerding remembers running into Schoenfeldt on campus and telling him he was trying to learn how to play the piano. The priest immediately asked Elerding to play for him, and the two walked across campus to the Mago Hunt recital hall.
Elerding went up on stage and played the "Moonlight Sonata" as Schoenfeldt, the sole audience member, listened attentively. Even though Elerding was a beginner, Schoenfeldt recognized the amount of work that went into the song and applauded enthusiastically when it was over.
"It was such a neat gesture," Elerding said. "He made me feel so special."
