By Will Potter, Chicago Tribune staff reporter (originally published on June 18, 2002)
Rev. R. Malachy Dooley, 82, was at nearly every wedding, funeral, baptism and party involving alumni of Fenwick High School. His giving spirit – from remembering the anniversaries of couples he married to taking friends on tours of Ireland – made him a cornerstone of the Fenwick community.
“Everyone thinks of him as their best friend,” said Bill Stein, a former student [Class of ’53, now deceased] and longtime friend. “And he thought of everyone as his best friend. Asking for nothing and giving everything, that was him.”
Father Dooley, a Dominican friar for 60 years and a teacher and fundraiser for Fenwick High School in Oak Park, died Saturday, June 15, of cancer in his home in the Dominican Priory of River Forest.
Father Dooley was born in Minneapolis. He started at Fenwick in 1950 as a theology teacher. When administrators asked him in the early 1950s to head fundraising projects for the school, he threw himself into the new task.
In the 1950s Father Dooley raised more than $1million for Fenwick’s first capital campaign that resulted in construction of the west wing, including an auditorium and classrooms. In the 1980s he raised more than $3 million for science laboratories and an endowment fund, and in the 1990s he raised $10 million for an athletics field house and pool.
From 1963 to 1973, Father Dooley was assigned to St. Pius V parish in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago, St. Anthony Parish in New Orleans and Bishop Lynch High School in Dallas. He then returned to his work at Fenwick.
Father Dooley did not like asking for money and, in fact, he rarely did, said Leo Latz [Fenwick Class of ’76], a former assistant and longtime friend. He didn’t have to.
“People give to things they feel connected to,” Latz said. “Dooley got legions of people to be connected or reconnected to the school. He had a gift of creating community and connecting people to their alma mater and reminding them of why they should be grateful. He has been the common denominator in Fenwick’s success in the last 50 years.”
He was awarded the [inaugural) Lumen Tranquillum, or Quiet Light, award by the school in November.
closest friend for 46 years summed up the great Coach’s qualities in an address
to Friar student-athletes one month after his death at age 73.
By late coach/trainer Dan O’Brien ’34 (Fenwick Sports Banquet, December 1976)
1929, 250 people applied for the position of athletic director at Fenwick High
School, an all-boys Catholic school opening in September of that year. Principal/President
Fr. Leo Gainor, O.P. selected 26-year-old Anthony R. Lawless to direct the new
school’s athletic program. From Peoria, IL, Mr. Lawless was a graduate of
Loyola University, Chicago, and the lone layperson among the then all-Dominican
faculty and staff. He was the Friars’ head football coach from 1929-56 (record:
177-43-8). A member of the Illinois Basketball Hall of Fame, Lawless also was
Fenwick’s head basketball coach (1929-47) and founded the Chicago Catholic
League Coaches Association.
There comes a time in the life of every athlete when
he draws back and takes a hard look at his experiences in order to assess the
returns that might have been. His initial inclination will be to recall the
emotional peaks, the victories: the win over Loyola’s football team; the cross
country effort against Gordon Tech; the golf team’s close finish in the league
and district competition; our tennis team’s dramatic victory in straight sets.
It is perfectly natural to cling to these memories for personal satisfaction.
However, your more meaningful returns – rewards that
will affect your lifestyle and personality – will come in the form of your
character-information. This type of return will, in most cases, come as the
result of behavior patterns formed from personal contacts – benefits derived
from the regard you have for your leader or coach. No doubt most of you, presumably,
have developed this type of respect for your respective coaches.
I believe it is very timely to consider the returns we
have received from our association with the incomparable Tony Lawless. This
very unusual man had personal characteristics that are rare by any standard of
reference. His lifestyle was anything but commonplace; it was truly unique.
Father Conley’s beautiful homily reflected insight into Tony’s character in his
peak years as a coach. My forty-six years with him have given me a singular
opportunity to discern what made him tick and the legacy he has left us.
A Supreme Court justice said he learned in his youth a
lesson that remained indelible throughout his life: human happiness is not
gained from a series of pleasures but from total dedication to a goal above and
An even greater authority said: “He who loses his life
shall find it; he who finds his life shall lose it.” It is a lesson of history
that happiness comes only to those who surrender themselves to a work greater
than themselves. There is no greater delight than to feel necessary to
something you love. A young mother, even if ill herself, when walking the floor
at midnight with her sick infant, is doing what she prefers to all else in the
world. Children never understand mother until they have children of their own.
Tony would have no trouble discerning that young mother’s feelings.
Father Gainor, the founding principal of Fenwick and a
priest of exceptional talent and insight – who brought Tony to Fenwick – had a “rule
of thumb” in judging the potential value of a student or employee. He believed
that a person, regardless of his shortcomings, had value to Fenwick if he had
demonstrated love for Fenwick. Tony Lawless was close to the heart of that
Tony truly loved his work in a most extraordinary way;
he really relished coming to work in the morning. The size of his salary was of
little or no consideration with him. He filled his every day in a work he
deeply loved; being paid for it was a bonus.
Tony was a romantic at heart. While still very young, he fell in love with Fenwick and all it stood for. To the very end, that love was undiminished. What he left us came from a great heart in love with a sublime dream.
Fenwick, the storied downtown restaurant has stood the test of time for nine
decades — and for three family generations.
By Patrick Feldmeier ’20
The impact that the late Franklin Delano Capitanini, Class of 1950, left on Chicago cannot be justly put into words. Instead, his impact resonates in his family, friends, Fenwick High School and the famed Italian Village Restaurant(s). Born in America in 1932 and named after U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Frank lived a life founded on strong family ties and treated everyone who dined at the Italian Village as if they were old friends. Today, the Italian Village serves as a reminder of the kindness that Mr. Capitanini spread for 85 years.
Located at 71 W. Monroe Street in Chicago’s “Loop” for
almost 92 years, the Italian Village was opened by Frank’s father, Alfredo, in
September 1927 – two years before Fenwick opened its doors. Frank and his kid brother,
Ray (Fenwick ’53), grew up knowing
that the restaurant someday would be theirs to manage. Frank’s early years
working there included responsibilities such as food preparation for the chefs
and waiting tables, according to his close friend, Fenwick classmate and
President EmeritusFather Richard LaPata, O.P. ’50. Learning
how to talk to adults and serve their requests at an early age benefitted Frank
greatly in the years to come. Frank’s son and fellow Friar alumnus, Al Capitanini ’81, says that the “best
internship is waiting tables because you learn about customer service and how
to handle people.”
Frank continued his work at the Italian Village when he attended Fenwick, where he participated in football, basketball and track. Unfortunately, his athletic career was cut short due to an injury. Al remembers hearing how his father had to divert all of his attention to education after the injury because Frank’s parents highly valued education. Frank’s father, an Italian immigrant, wanted him to have a strong caring for education due to his own limited schooling opportunities in Italy. When Frank was not hitting the books, he left his friends drooling in the school cafeteria because of the sandwiches he brought daily from the Italian Village. The aroma of Italian lunch meats and cheeses made their palates jealous.
Frank and Fr. LaPata both went on to Notre Dame, but their paths did not cross much at the university: one entered the seminary while the other (Frank) was in the ROTC program. It was not until Father LaPata became president of Fenwick in 1998 that he developed a friendship with Frank, eating at the Capitanini home around once a month.
Once out of college, Frank immediately went back to
work at the Italian Village. In the 1950s and ’60s, opera drew huge crowds in
big cities like Chicago, so the Capitaninis became well acquainted with some
the world’s most famous opera singers. When asked about the relationship
between it and the Italian Village, the Lyric Opera Company kindly stated,
“American singers and Italian singers of the 1950s and 1960s dined at the
Italian Village.” However, opera stars were not the only celebrities to
frequent the restaurant. The walls of the Italian Village are lined with
autographed pictures from well-known celebrities and sports figures, including
Frank Sinatra, Lou Holtz, Mike Ditka, Florence Henderson, Ryne Sandberg and Jon
The Italian Village has maintained its reputation of
great service and hospitality because of Frank’s leadership and family values:
“Hundreds [of restaurants] closed, but the Italian Village stayed strong due to
its hospitality, charm and kindness,” praises Father LaPata. With an
old-fashioned aura and breathtaking architecture, the Village has stood the
test of time by adhering to its roots; something that many restaurants in
Chicago have failed to do. Upon entering one of the three restaurants in the
Italian Village, patrons are engulfed in a one-of-a-kind atmosphere. The
Village, the upstairs restaurant, features dimmed lights that hang low and
walls painted to mimic a scenic view in Italy. No windows are present, and it
truly feels as if you are dining in Italy.
Later in Frank’s life, he began to teach his kids how
to manage the family restaurant. Fortunately, his four children, Lisa, Gina, Frank II ’78 and Al, had hands-on
involvement for years. Al vividly remembers growing up at the Village: waiting
tables and making food just like Frank did years ago. “We ate more than we
actually learned,” he admits. Gina still works in the family business.
When the kids were a bit older, Frank would take them
to the restaurant for breakfast, then walk with them to catch a Bears game. Al
describes his father as an “old-school type, hardworking, honest to a fault,
always there, and would help anyone in an emergency.” Frank served as a great
mentor to Al and his other children, and they work hard to emulate their dad.
His philanthropic contributions to Fenwick are greatly appreciated as well.
I had the pleasure of having lunch with Al this spring
at the Italian Village. We talked about the history of the restaurants and
Frank’s long-lasting impact on them. When the topic of Frank’s years in high
school arose, Al was quick to mention that Fenwick was essential in molding
Frank into the man he wanted to be. Frank may have had a career already set
through the Italian Village, however, his success and achievements in life
required the lessons learned from Fenwick to come to fruition. Through the
stories Al shared about Frank’s life at Fenwick as well as his own, I was truly
able to understand that Fenwick is great at preparing its students for life
Frank passed away one year ago at age 85. His funeral was held at his grade school, St. Vincent Ferrer in River Forest, and Father LaPata touchingly led the Mass. His presence will be missed, yet his spirit will live on in the lives of those around him. Frank Capitanini will forever be a Friar, and his impact on his family, the Italian Village and Fenwick High School will last for generations to come.
Coming soon: The Frank Capitanini Classroom at Fenwick
In addition to their generous classroom-naming donation, the Capitanini family also has created an endowed scholarship in their father’s memory. The fund will provide tuition assistance for a Fenwick student in need.
Patrick Feldmeier is a finishing up his junior year at Fenwick High School, where he is an Honor Roll/National Honor Society student and president of the Class of 2020. Pat also plays on the Friars’ football and rugby teams. He lives in Western Springs, IL (St. John of the Cross) and is hoping for acceptance this coming fall into the University of Notre Dame, where his Evans Scholar brother, Danny ’18, will be a sophomore.
The young Assistant State’s Attorney stood at the center of “The Trial of the Century” in the mid-1960s — as the chief prosecutor of mass-murderer Richard Speck.
By Mark Vruno
As the Fenwick Bar Association celebrates its the 20th Annual Accipter Award Luncheon on May 18th, we remember 2006 recipient William Martin, who passed away last July at the age of 80, following a long battle with cancer.
During a legal career that spanned more than 50 years, Bill Martin lawyered — later as a defense attorney — and taught the law. After serving as editor of The Wick student newspaper and graduating from Fenwick in 1954, Martin attended Loyola University Chicago and its law school, where he was voted the outstanding student. He founded and was editor of the Loyola Law Times, a Journal of Opinion.
Until his death last year, the native Oak Parker (St. Giles) was a private practitioner specializing in attorney ethics and criminal law. He is, however, known best for putting a monster behind bars. The murderer’s name was Richard Speck, who went on a killing spree on Chicago’s southeast side the hot night of July 14, 1966.
An Assistant State’s Attorney at the time, the then 29-year-old Billy Martin had been selected from a pool of more than 30 criminal court prosecutors, many much older and with far more felony trial experience, according to an article in the spring 2018 edition of the Journal of the American College of Trial Lawyers. Despite his relative youth, Martin had earned the respect of Cook County State’s Attorney Dan Ward and his chief assistants, including John Stamos.
Twenty-five years later, Martin told the Chicago Sun-Times, “In a way, it was the end of innocence. In this case, eight women asleep in a middle-class, crime-free, virtually suburban neighborhood were subject to random violence from a killer who basically came out of the night.” Reflecting in a 2016 interview with the Wednesday Journal, he added, “By committing the first random mass murder in 20th-century America, Richard Speck opened the floodgates to a tragic phenomenon that haunts us today.”
Martin believed that Speck was evil incarnate. The 24-year-old ex-convict from Texas stabbed or strangled (and, in one case, raped) the female nursing students. While in hiding two days after the grisly murders, Speck tried to kill himself by cutting his wrists with a broken wine bottle. But once he was locked up in Statesville Correctional Center, Illinois’ maximum-security prison near Joliet, the human monster never showed any remorse for the bloody, heinous acts he committed.
There was one person who survived that horrible night: 85-pound student nurse Corazon Amurao. Originally from the Philippines, Ms. Amurao hid, terrified, under a bunk bed during the five-hour killing rampage. One by one, her nursing school classmates were ruthlessly slain by the madman. At dawn, in shock, she crawled through the carnage to the townhouse balcony. For 20 minutes she screamed, “Oh my God, they are all dead!”
Fenwick High School periodically profiles people affiliated with our community who have since passed on.
Remembering the Spirit and Will of Bill Jenks
By Mark Vruno
To call William “Bill” Jenks ’50 (1932-1989) inspirational might be a gross understatement. But inspire he did and, through his preserved written words, still does nearly 30 years after his death. All of those words – hundreds of thousands of them and millions of characters – were typed on an electronic typewriter by Jenks, who was paralyzed and pecked at the keys using a wooden peg held tightly between his teeth. He wasn’t born without the use of his arms and legs, however.
Jenks grew up a healthy boy in an Irish-Catholic neighborhood. In late 1943 the Jenks family moved to Park Ridge, on the northwest edge of the city, where Bill and John, his older brother, transferred to St. Paul of the Cross parish and school (Sisters of Mercy). In the autumn of ’46 Bill followed John to Fenwick High School on a merit scholarship. He began making the daily, 13-mile trek south to Oak Park with their father, Mack, who was a teacher at nearby Austin High, a Chicago Public School. Mack Jenks also was a retired U.S. Army Officer and taught military science to Junior ROTC students at Austin.