I vivdly recall going to the mass, in Latin, with my mother 40-odd years ago. To hear the priest's chants echo throughout the cavernous interior of St. Michael's, was, to a child, like hearing God himself speak. My second grade teacher, whose husband was a parishioner at St. Michael's, was married there. The entire class was invited to attend, along with our parents.
Vatican II (1962-1965), and the changing of Union City itself in the late 1960s and 1970s, truly seemed to take its toll on the great and noble St. Michael's. It was heartbreaking, to say the least, to see the huge bronze doors closed to Catholics forever, to see the Monastery where the priests resided fall into ruin, and the removal of the deceased priests as the graveyard was being taken over by developers. The outdoor Stations of The Cross became only a cherished memory. I thank God for the beautiful memories I have of St. Michael's. No urban developers, nor anyone else, will ever be able to banish them from my mind or my heart.
St. Michael's is also home to a humorous memory. While it was before my time, it was witnessed at a Sunday Mass by my mother and my two brothers, who were then in grade school. It was during the 1940s. A man, who was a neighbor of my family, was an usher. Somehow, his dog, "Tonto," slipped into the church and made his way up to the main altar. For some reason, the bells which the altar boy would ring fascinated Tonto, and he began pawing at them and nudging them with his nose. The people up front, of course, could see what was going on, and tried hard to stifle their laughter. Those all the way at the rear, however, could not see what was going on, and stood and knelt again every time the dog nudged the bells! My brother recalls the priest trying to be a good sport, and the poor usher, who owned the dog, had to round him up and take him back home. Perhaps the dog had a calling as well!! That story has been told many times over the years in my family.
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