CART Captioning And The $10,000 Spaghetti Dinner – Monsignor Balty Janacek
CART Captioning And The $10,000 Spaghetti Dinner
~~ Originally published in my column “Beyond The Comfort Zone” within NCRA’s Journal of Court Reporting, JCR
By Monette Benoit, All Rights Reserved
The CART (Communication Access Real-time Translation) community and all court reporters lost a devoted friend on April 30th, 2007. My life was improved by this gentleman. Our profession was improved by this special person.
I had been CARTing San Antonio’s St. Francis Di Paola Deaf Mass for many years.
One Sunday morning before mass, a new priest introduced himself to me as I prepped to CART caption. He spelled his name B-a-l-t-y.
He waited for me to stop writing to shake my hand (I was CARTing with my steno machine). I captioned his words to the large screen. This special man charmed parishioners with this gesture.
He waited for me to return my hands to the steno machine. Then the new priest walked to the altar, and introduced himself to the Deaf community, “I’m the new priest and will learn sign.”
We welcomed “the new priest” with deaf applause.
Balty was proud of his Czech background. He had a deep love of cultures and languages.
He often spoke Spanish while I realtimed – writing verbatim text projected to a large screen on the altar from my steno machine.
I’d sigh; he’d smile, then translate.
As we became friends, I learned Balty was ordained in 1950.
Serving multiple roles he was devoted to causes close to his heart.
Balty remained involved with Native Americans and tirelessly worked to mediate retrieval of their remains, bones, from the University of Texas at San Antonio, UTSA.
I am not surprised that he donated his body to UTSA.
Balty was parochial vicar at San Fernando Cathedral (where Davy Crockett is buried).
Since 1967, he was director of four 18th-century Old Spanish Missions for the Archdiocese (the active parishes of Concepcion, San Jose, San Juan, and Espada Missions).
Balty established the San Antonio Mission National Historical Park and a historic cooperative agreement with the National Park Service, which the NPS is working to model around the United States.
His picture was in our newspaper so often that I’d phone Balty teasing him that he was my “Where’s Waldo?”
Balty was absolutely devoted to his extended family, organizing Schulenburg, Texas, reunions with nieces and nephews.
I extended multiple holiday invitations, but he’d say, “I want to spend time with the girls (nuns). I’ve known many for 50 years; they’re good cooks. Can you understand?” Yes.
Much later when he handed me his business card, I saw his title Monsignor Janacek. I almost gasped. Me, “I didn’t know …”
He shrugged, “Balty – really.” Balty was the “jolly” man who arrived with his peace sign.
One Sunday, Balty asked my former husband and me to lunch.
He asked me what I needed to CART for the Deaf. (CART is communication access realtime translation).
I used my equipment writing to a large screen with instant translation – known as ‘captioning’ to many – for the Deaf mass.)
[Former] husband’ did not hesitate, “Her equipment is seven years older since she began to volunteer. She has wear and tear on her equipment.”
I blinked, immediately swallowing warm Black Eyed Pea cornbread.
Balty smiled, “How much would it cost for the church to purchase new equipment? Monette, could you use our equipment?”
Balty and [former] husband wrote numbers on paper napkins as I watched. I had stopped eating. We sat in the booth – a busy Sunday restaurant. I leaned my elbow on the table, silent. Watching. Balty smiled the entire time.
Then Balty turned to me, “How about $10,000? Would that work, Monette? What do you need? The Christopher Columbus Society is having their spaghetti dinner. I’ll ask them.”
Lunch was wonderful. We never ventured back to the topic as we laughed and enjoyed our time together that sunny day.
Church members were accustomed to me rushing up aisles 15 minutes before our Deaf mass.
To prep equipment, I darted around people praying, families posing for pictures after baptisms and other church events.
Parents and parishioners prevented small children from playing with my equipment, understanding my frantic movements each Sunday.
Soon Balty called me, “They agreed!”
This yearly ‘spaghetti dinner’ is famous in our city – seventh largest in the U.S.
Politicians and judges arrive to shake hands. All spaghetti is homemade; all you can eat.
I attended and was thanked by lines of volunteers who stood behind long tables -in a row- serving guests and individuals who purchased tickets.
Balty waved to me as I stood in line – signing, joking. I ‘was receiving’ my hugs, hand and shoulder rubs (a Deaf ‘thing’).
Then, Balty sat at our long table as we ate our spaghetti. He was busy laughing, listening, enjoying the very busy event.
Soon, Balty purchased all my hardware and court reporting software.
I prepared paperwork; he cut checks. We were a good team.
The Deaf community was thrilled everyone supported their community.
I have wonderful memories of Balty.
I fondly remember when Balty casually commented that women should have rights to become priests. (His predecessor preferred ‘only’ Latin masses and fasting. Truly.)
I paused before stroking “those” words that I heard Balty voice.
Parishioners paused, too – looking to my large screen, narrowing their eyes. My hands poised above my steno keyboard,
Balty looked at me and slowly nodded.
As I realtimed his words, Balty paused, too.
After a long silence, people coughed, looked to one another, then looked up to my (large) screen displaying (large) upper-cap text.
Soon, small groups stood. Ever so slowly, individuals and small groups side-stepped to the center aisle.
They gave him one slow final look before each quietly and politely exited the church that morning.
Later I teased Balty, “Well, you won’t be seeing the front of their faces any time soon. Before you arrived, standing room only. Now? Wide open spaces.” He smiled, eyes soft.
Balty was not “just a Sunday person.” I phoned Balty when remarkable events occurred.
I was honored how he shared his life – on and off the record. I became protective of Balty as he detailed his world, expanding mine.
In 2000, I moved away from San Antonio. (I returned 2002.)
The National Court Reporters Association’s, NCRA, 2001 mid-year convention was in San Antonio. I flew in, immediately called Balty, “I’m up the road” after I registered in hotel.
Balty instantly recognized my voice, “Monette, hi; I’ll hurry this wedding rehearsal and be right there!”
The hotel lobby had open seating. As we were seated, Balty ordered “two glasses of your finest wine.”
He raised his glass and began singing to me. Balty had a deep melodic voice; he sang in Spanish.
Balty did not lower his voice; crystal wine glass held high, he sang. Not to a person seated a few feet across from him. Balty sang as if he was singing to a congregation. True.
Stunned, I watched others watch me before I relaxed, listening. When Balty finished, he raised his glass higher, toasted me.
I leaned across the small table, whispered, “I don’t understand what you just sang. It sounded beautiful.”
Balty laughed, “Monette, I sang a love song to you.”
I blinked hard. No words. A. Really. Hard. Blink.
Balty smiled, “I sang this song to thank you for all you’ve done. I sang so you will always remember this moment.”
I mumbled soft, “I’m sure I will …” He kept his crystal glass raised until I raised mine; we toasted together. I said, “I will always remember. Promise.” He nodded, proud.
As we dined, court reporters trolled and stopped to chat at our table.
(Balty wore a solid black shirt. I watched Balty remove his white collar the moment he entered the hotel. I teased him about being off-duty.)
Bill Weber was incoming NCRA president. His board of directors had driven into the Hill Country to film a movie for his induction.
I proudly introduced NCRA directors, many wearing country overalls, to “the man who raised $10,000 with spaghetti to purchase CART equipment.”
Every court reporter thanked him. Oh, how Balty laughed and smiled. His eyes twinkled; he enjoyed every moment.
Hours later, court reporters stood at the elevators waving good-bye to my friend – their new friend Balty, B-a-l-t-y, he would spell his name.
Balty waved – waiting for me to get into an elevator. I waved – waiting for him to leave. And we met more people at those elevators.
He and I waited for the other to turn.
We spent hours -hours- at the elevators talking, laughing and having great fun as I introduced Balty to many friends.
Court reporters still comment on that moment when they see me.
When diagnosed with leukemia, Balty was optimistic.
I’d phone his private cell phone; he’d answer, “Hi, Moe-net!”
I could hear Spanish in the background, and he was frequently in a southside clinic “waiting to be seen.”
Once I joked that he’d spent more than 50 years visiting hospitals – perhaps he could get an appointment.
Softly Balty said, “Monette, I’m with my people; this is where I want to be.” Ahhhh. Yes. Mea culpa.
I encouraged Balty to record his memoirs.
I wanted one tape for the church and another detailed version for his family, describing historic, momentous events he transformed.
I teased him that he should have a glass of red wine. He should sip, sit, talk. I knew his family would want these tapes.
We kept in touch as Balty rounded the last corner of his life.
I would phone his cell phone, and we would laugh and listen to the other.
I always had his name on my to-call list. Each Monday, I put his name on my list.
His last Sunday, April 30, 2007, I had phone in hand dialing his number that afternoon when I was distracted to a family moment. I put the phone down.
I knew I would find the time to phone him. His name remained on my list.
I did not know that Balty recently left his archdiocese apartment.
Alone, he checked into hospice.
I did not know he had few visitors.
That Sunday he “snuck out to a Mexican restaurant with his family; nuns looked the other way.”
Later, he watched Spurs basketball on TV – they won.
Monsignor Balthasar Janacek died that night, 80 years of age.
I learned from his family, “When the nurse checked on him at 3 a.m., he was cold, talking in Czech.
A little while later he was speaking in English to his mother. He said, ‘Mom, I don’t think I am going to make it.’”
Balty’s card remains in my wallet. I haven’t been able remove it.
I now live with mindful regrets that I’ll never be able to write his name on another call list.
Oh, he was proud of CART providers and captioners, our skills, how we help people. Balty was our biggest fan.
I want you to know this about Balty. He was special to so many people for so long.
I believe that Balty Janacek is greeting his family, friends, and strangers with a peace sign, spelling his name, sharing laughter and beautiful song.
About Monette Benoit, B. B.A., Paralegal, CCR, CRI, CPE, CART Captioner, Instructor, Public Speaker, Consultant, Columnist: Since 1990, Monette is the multiple-title author of books & Purple Books test prep. Co-author, Emmett Donnelly, earned his B.S. in English; languages, Latin, Greek, German; sciences; and his M.Ed.- working with SATs and ACTs for decades.
Monette, an experienced 35+ year court reporter, has taught multiple theories, all academics, speed classes, and 225-homeroom within NCRA-approved schools and community college. Daughter of educators, Monette understands challenges in our multi-faceted, growing industry.
In 1993, she CART captioned for a Deaf mass, San Antonio, Texas. Wonderful opportunities presented from Big D, Little D, Oral Deaf, HOH – special moments.
Monette Benoit has worked with thousands of professionals, students, instructors. She’s worked to create new court reporting programs, worked with federal grants, assisted instructors in developing curriculum for in-class and online students. Years ago, she was named the Court Reporting Whisperer by court reporting students and reporters.
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Monette’s Musings is an informative, motivational blog for busy individuals seeking to create success –and– to enjoy this special path. Monette’s goal IS your success.
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