Hugh Turley
Eulogy for Hugh Turley Marist College Chapel July 30th 2021
Seán Sammon
Hugh Turley slipped away from us during the early evening hours of Saturday, July 24th, 2021; it was Mary’s day of the week. The gospel reading for that Saturday was the parable of the sower and the seed. How appropriate for a man who, over the course of his life, began many works and projects, the benefits of which were reaped over time by others.
Hugh’s 85 years on this earth were marked by a spirit of service as well as a taste for adventure and a heart that believed that all things were possible. Not surprising, for after all, Hugh Turley was a man who believed in miracles. He was also someone who managed to blend a liking for order, precision, and attention to detail with the ability to take risks, a willingness to set out on new paths, and a life-long love of learning.
During his last few years of life, though, this once vigorous and active man was burdened by physical and emotional pain. And so, on the evening of July 24th, having borne his sufferings long enough, he simply ceased to bear them and with the Saints sat down.
Hugh Patrick Turley was born in Greenpoint, Brooklyn to Anne and Hugh Turley. Both parents had immigrated to the US from Ireland. He was the first boy among six children, four girls—
Moya, Patricia, Eileen, and Betty—and two boys—Hugh and Sean. A word of thanks to Hugh’s family for sharing their brother and his life with all of us and a word of consolation on our common loss. Over the next few minutes, I will recount several stories about Hugh during his years as a brother. I have no doubt that you have your own treasure chest of tales about him and his time with you.
Hugh first met the Marist brothers while a freshman at Saint Agnes High School. A year later, at age 15, he was on his way to the Juniorate in Esopus, New York. He never looked back.
Hugh went on to make first vows in 1955 and final vows five years later. On June 6th, 1987, he made the vow of stability. He earned a bachelor’s degree in biology while at Marist College and immediately took up his teaching ministry at Bishop Dubois High School in New York City. During those years he also worked to earn a Master’s in Biology from Fordham University. He then moved on to Mount Saint Michael Academy.
Shortly thereafter, Hugh found himself at Catholic University in Washington, DC, pursuing a doctorate in Cellular Physiology.
That degree was granted in 1968.
I first met Hugh that same year when I was a sophomore here at Marist College. With his newly minted PhD in hand, he was placed in charge of the lab. I remember so clearly the sense of order that existed there. Everything had its place and we soon learned that there was one best way to manage the frogs, pigs, and God knows whatever else we were instructed to dissect.
But then again, there are many Hugh Turley stories, tales about this orderly, generous, and yet complicated man whom we mourn today. Each of us, those who were privileged to live with him, befriend and love him, be taught by him, each of us—with just a little effort—can find a story that speeds the blood, swells the heart, brings a smile to the face.
As mentioned earlier, Hugh was meticulous, organized, a very disciplined individual. Some might even say that he bordered on being obsessive compulsive. When Paulette Karas, his treasured colleague and friend, first started working with him in the Development Office, he would give her daily instructions on the proper way to position a stamp in the corner of an envelope. It had to be straight, not crooked. A small amount of space also had to appear around the stamp. “Neatness counts,” he would say.
After her daily lesson on postage stamp fixing, Paulette was allowed to paste some on envelopes. At the end of the day, however, her work was inspected, and she was given a grade. “Paulette, you got a “B” today,” Hughie would say, “some stamps were not completely straight.”
After several days of inspection, one evening Hugh gave Paulette a small piece of paper. Written on it, in red ink, was the letter “A” with a gold star next to it. “Today you finally got it right,” he had written. As Paulette relates, it must have been God himself who stopped her from running out the door and never coming back.
Let’s remember also that Hugh had a great love for physical activity. Running, handball, tennis, bike riding were all part of his life. On one occasion he decided to ride his bike to the Development Office in Chicago. Unfortunately, on his way in, the skies opened, and rain came down in buckets. Hughie arrived at the office, drenched from head to toe, and as angry as hell that Mother Nature had ruined his ride. With no dry clothes on hand, he had to be driven home to change. He was also advised that the next time he decided to take his bike to work, he might take a moment to look at the sky before starting out!
There were other sides to Hughie, however, as was evident during his years in Pine Ridge. On his arrival there, he quickly learned that temperatures on the reservation ranged between 20 to 30 degrees below zero in winter to well over 100 degrees in summer. The latter number was closer to what he would later experience during his years in Mississippi. Ever able to adapt, he took up cross country skiing during the winter months. To the amusement of the Lakota Sioux people, he quickly became a familiar figure making his way over the rolling snow covered hills of South Dakota.
Life in Pine Ridge also included his first experience of living in a “trailer home.” He adjusted quickly to his single bedroom, as small as it was. Noted for his neatness, however, it must have taken a good deal more effort to adapt to the somewhat looser housekeeping habits of some others in the community, most notably Eric Anderberg who at the time was raising rabbits in the house! The two were like bookends when it came to order and organization.
Hugh, though, brought tremendous professionalism, a spirit of collegiality, and a keen knowledge of his area of research to his work as a college teacher at the then fledgling Oglala Lakota College. While there he prepared several students, who went on to become registered nurses. Missed greatly when he moved on, he had helped advance higher learning another notch among the Lakota Sioux people.
It was probably in the area of spirituality, though, that Hugh had the greatest impact on people. Without a doubt, he was a man on a journey with God. He was also one of those brothers formed by structures early in his religious life that were found wanting as time went on. He was part of a generation who lived through the death of a form of religious life that was meant for another age, another moment in time. And so, he was faced with the task of being a midwife to a new expression of this age-old way of living the gospel.
We all know that Hughie was a scientist. But even when he wasn’t practicing science, he looked at life through its lens. Exact and precise as he was, he was also a man of deep faith and a wonderful witness to the fact that science and faith are friends, not foes. Over the course of his life, his faith and spirituality became more visible, tangible. In the communities in which he lived, he was not a “rush through the Office, shouting Psalms” type of person. When he led prayer, he was intentional, thoughtful, inspiring.
His faith also had a profound impact on those who knew him. While in the Development Office, for example, he and Paulette worked alongside a man in his 30s who saw little need for religion in his life. He quickly got to know Hugh; actually, they bonded over chili cheese dogs.
As time passed and they had a chance to talk, this man began to sense the void that existed in his life. Hugh helped him through some rough patches; today this man credits Hugh for helping him grow in his spirituality.
Finally, who among us can ever forget the way in which Hugh handled his diminishment. It began suddenly with an accident; he was caught off guard. How frustrating the situation must have been for him, for he had done everything right. He had taken good care of himself; ran and biked well into his late seventies. Despite his disabilities, he did not give in to despair.
Paulette and Denny, her husband, were a great support during the years that he struggled with his health, as were the brothers at Leavitt and Blue Island.
That support continued when he moved to Champagnat Hall where he also received exceptional care. The frustration that he felt in not being able to manage for himself and to do many of the things he had done so easily throughout life was evident at times. It was almost as if the Lord was calling on him to give up control and simply rely on the goodness of God.
There are so many other tales that capture the life of this good and thoughtful brother of ours. There were his regular trips to Rome with Paulette and Denny during the years that Dominick, Don, Michael, George, and I lived there. I remember so many Saturday evenings, after Mass at Santa Suzanna, spent in cellar restaurants throughout the city talking late into the evening as we all tried to solve the problems of the world. We should also not forget the significant contribution that he made to the work of welcoming and resettling Viet Nam refugees during the years he served in Mississippi working for Catholic Charities.
Most especially, though, Hugh Turley was a wonderful listener, an honest friend, a brother among his brothers. The advice he gave came from years of living, relating, facing challenges. He never stopped growing throughout his life because of his willingness to move and take on new tasks, to widen his circle of friends, to deepen his faith. He loved life and embraced it with enthusiasm. And right up until the end, he never gave up hope that his health would improve, and he would be able to continue to be of service.
And so, Hugh Patrick Turley, it is time to let you fly away. How blessed we have been to have you among us for so many years. How you loved your family, friends, Marist Brothers. For those of us who loved you, your death is the only grief you have ever caused us. May you stand tall among the Communion of Saints. For after all, in becoming over time a Little Brother of Mary, you also became the absolute best of men. Amen.