A True American Hero

            Americans oft revere the ‘winners of the world’ as measured by their wealth and fame.  In fact, we read and hear far more about heroic professional athletes who ‘earn’ $30 million annual salaries than about the exploits of unsung heroes in our midst.  We even elected a president based in part on his perceived ability to amass great wealth though the means on which he secured that fortune remains unclear.  

Yet, occasionally we get it right as evinced by this story, which explains why a school hall improbably bears the name of its long-time janitor. This man lived to serve others, the antithesis of money and fame. His life fits within one of the definitions of hero: “A man admired for his achievements and noble qualities.”

The school children called him Joe, despite the well-versed required use of surnames when addressing elders.   The faculty implicitly permitted students a singular reprieve from surname formality because Joe possessed no pretense; indeed, addressing him as Mr. McEntee would have altered the dynamic between the children and Joe.  He knew all 350 of their names, as well as their parents’ and the elders’ names, too.  A bachelor, Joe’s devotion to the school and parish fueled his genius for names.

            To the younger children, Joe’s job seemed to be turning on the lights in the morning and keeping the school clean.   But they learned more about his role as they grew older.

            The altar boys who served 6:30 morning mass discovered that Joe opened the church each morning, and as he said, ‘put the Lord to bed’ when he locked the church doors at night.

            For someone kept after school for misbehaving, the punished pupil took solace when Joe acknowledged him or her by name as he passed by while pushing his dust mop up and down the classroom aisles.  His gentle greeting without a hint of judgment somehow lightened the weight of detention.

            If asked, Joe might take older students down the elevator in the round building behind the school to the mysterious janitor’s room where he fixed things for the school, rectory, convent and church.  Students later heard from their parents—never from Joe—that he obliged on gratis repair call for many parish widows, too.

            Occasionally on sunny Saturday afternoons, Joe might take a few of “his kids” up beyond the gated stairway and onto the school roof that afforded the children with a view of the surrounding parish and a distant neighboring church’s spire, and beyond to the graceful curve of the St. Louis Arch looming in the aspiring distance.   It was their whole world—and his, too.

            He drove an old blue Chevrolet Impala oft seen cruising the neighborhood, Joe’s left arm perched on the door frame poised for a wave.  He drove sick children home from school, and gave a lift to the elderly who needed a ride to the doctor or grocery store.

            Later, parishioners donated funds to buy a new car for him in recognition of his years of service, but Joe would have no part of it.  Instead, he asked that the donated money be used to fund a scholarship for a needy student. 

The parish scheduled Joe McEntee Day to acknowledge both his years of service and the funded scholarship established in his name.  The Saturday evening mass filled the church to capacity.  A celebration followed with parishioners, school children and alumnus gathering at the newly christened McEntee Hall to pay homage to their friend, Joe.

The following day, Joe arrived early to clean and ready ‘his’ Hall for school on Monday.  His devotion to the school, parish and parishioners continued until poor health forced his retirement—a sad time when he could no longer empty himself in order to be fulfilled. 

Mr. Joseph G. McEntee passed on years ago from this life to the next, but those he touched still remember him for more than a namesake for a school hall.  Joe’s lifetime achievement of daily acts of kindness and selfless dedication serve as a noble role model for a true American hero.