Building With Disciplined Imagination

Dear Saint Mary’s Friends,

There is not a day I enter Le Mans Hall without pausing for a quiet moment. The scale of the building, the weight of its history, and the significance of the lives that have passed through its corridors all seem to press on the present. As I walk through the doors of my office, I am reminded that I stand in a long line of leaders who were asked to think boldly about what Saint Mary’s College could become—and who had the courage to act on that vision.

Over the past year, we have marked the centennial of Le Mans Hall. It is the architectural cornerstone of our campus and a visible reminder of a moment when Saint Mary’s was growing and changing. When Mother Pauline O’Neill, CSC undertook its construction in 1924, the collegiate enrollment was fewer than 200 students. To imagine—and then to build—such a structure required both confidence in the present and a profound trust in a future she could not yet see. It was an act of vision and conviction, one that helped shape the Saint Mary’s we know today.

Yet Mother Pauline’s boldness also came with consequences. The debt incurred in building Le Mans would shape the decisions of those who followed, at times limiting what future leaders could themselves imagine or undertake. To look back on that moment, then, is not only to admire its courage but also to recognize the enduring responsibility that accompanies any act of institutional ambition. Vision and constraint, possibility and prudence—these have always been part of the Saint Mary’s story, held in tension rather than resolved.

Last Friday, we gathered to mark another centennial—one that brings us to the very core of Le Mans Hall. One hundred years ago to the day—April 24, 1926—Holy Spirit Chapel (at that time, the Chapel of the Holy Ghost) was consecrated on the third floor of the building. It is a space of striking beauty: light filtering through stained glass; a quiet sense of elevation above the rhythms of daily life; the presence of artifacts shaped by generations of faculty, staff, and students—including the mosaic Stations of the Cross created as a senior project by a member of the Class of 1958. At the anniversary Mass, Father William Lies, CSC, Provincial Superior of the US Province of Priests and Brothers for the Congregation of Holy Cross, observed that the chapel is literally the heart of the building. That observation lingers—not only as an architectural fact but as a deeper truth about what gives life and meaning to all that surrounds it.

The liturgy itself seemed to give voice to this deeper meaning. In Anton Bruckner’s gorgeous Locus Iste, we heard the simple and profound claim: “This place was made by God . . . a priceless sacrament.” The music did not draw attention to the chapel as an achievement, but rather as a gift—something received as much as constructed. And in that moment, it became clear that what stands at the center of Le Mans Hall is an emblem of the source from which all our efforts must flow. The chapel quietly reminds us why we build at all.

We find ourselves, once again, in a period of building at Saint Mary’s. We are expanding academic programs, strengthening enrollment, and deepening our reputation as a Catholic college committed both to the enduring value of the liberal arts and to preparing our students for lives of intention and meaning. We are also looking with fresh eyes at the physical spaces on our campus, considering how they might best serve the needs of the future. These are signs of vitality and promise. Yet the lessons of Le Mans—and the witness of Holy Spirit Chapel—illuminate how growth is never simply a matter of expansion. It is a matter of discernment.

To build well requires more than vision alone. It also asks for a kind of disciplined imagination—one that is bold enough to look beyond the present yet grounded enough to measure the consequences of what we undertake. We are called, as were those who came before us, to think expansively about what Saint Mary’s can become. But we are also stewards of a legacy, and what we build today will shape not only our own moment but the possibilities available to those who follow. The question is not simply how we grow, but how we grow in a way that remains faithful to the deepest promise of this special place. Perhaps this is what the builders of Le Mans Hall understood, even amid the uncertainty of their time: that what we construct in stone and space must always be guided by something deeper and more enduring.

Warm regards,

Katie Conboy, Ph.D.
President

April 27, 2026