Faith on the Frontier: Episode 3 - The Brink

By the mid-to-late 20th century, Catholic education in Montana had grown into a strong and recognizable system.

Parishes were established.
 Schools were thriving.
 Religious sisters and dedicated educators formed generations of students.

For a time, it felt stable.

But beneath the surface, things were beginning to change.

In this episode, we explore the moment when Catholic education across Montana, and across the country, faced real uncertainty.

• Fewer religious vocations
• Rising costs of education
• Shifting cultural priorities
• And new pressures on families and parishes

What had once been sustained by religious communities and a unified sense of mission now required new models, new leadership, and new sacrifice.

In many places, schools closed. Others struggled to hold on.

The system that had been built over decades was now at a crossroads.

And yet, this is not only a story of decline.

It is a story of decision.

Of communities asking hard questions:

What is worth preserving?
 What must change?
 And what does it mean to remain faithful to the mission in a new era?

Because sometimes, the future of a mission is not secured in moments of growth…

but in the courage to stand at the brink, and choose what comes next.

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:09

Across the wide plains and open skies of eastern Montana, distance has always mattered. Communities formed where the land allowed. Faith took root where people gathered. And education emerged not from abundance, but from commitment. Long before there were school buildings, there were teachers. Long before systems, there was mission. This is the story of Catholic education in eastern Montana and of how Billings Catholic schools came to be. Shaped by land, carried by people, tested by time, and sustained by faith. This is Faith on the Frontier.

SPEAKER_00 1:18

Six high schools had a combined enrollment of 1,952 taught by 118 teachers. Kim Larson.

SPEAKER_01 1:28

By the late 1960s, something fundamental was changing in Catholic education across the United States. It did not happen all at once. There was no single announcement, no dramatic collapse. Instead, schools began to disappear quietly, parish by parish, city by city, year by year. For much of the twentieth century, Catholic schools had seemed permanent, an unquestioned part of parish life. Families assumed they would always be there. That assumption would soon prove fragile. One of the central pillars of Catholic education was shifting dramatically. Vocations were declining. For generations, women religious had staffed Catholic schools in large numbers. They taught for little pay, they lived simply, they carried enormous workloads. Their presence made Catholic education affordable for working families. But on the heels of the Second Vatican Council, turmoil erupted in the late 1960s and the 1970s with protests against the Vietnam War. The protests expressed a spirit of anti-institutionalism and unrest that spread to the church.

SPEAKER_00 2:55

A major cause of these closures was the shortage of religious women who had traditionally staffed the schools. Kim Larson.

SPEAKER_01 3:03

As those vocations declined in the 1960s and 70s, schools faced a new reality. Lay teachers, rightly, required living wages, benefits, stability. Costs rose quickly and dramatically. Tuition increased to compensate. Families struggled to keep up. Across the country, Catholic schools entered a downward cycle. As tuition rose, enrollment declined. As enrollment declined, tuition rose again. Many schools did not survive. By the end of the 20th century, more than half of all Catholic schools in the United States would close. This was not a distant problem. It was national, it was relentless, and it reached into every diocese. Rural dioceses felt the pressure most intensely. In places like eastern Montana, distances were vast, populations were spread thin, and parish resources were limited. There were no large donor bases, no dense urban neighborhoods, little margin for error. Catholic education here had always required sacrifice. Now it required more than many communities could give on their own. In cities across the country, Catholic leaders faced painful decisions. Which schools could be saved, which could not. How long could parishes continue to subsidize classrooms while also funding ministries, buildings, and basic operations? Often, schools closed not because families had stopped caring, but because the financial reality had become unsustainable.

SPEAKER_00 4:59

School enrollment only 2,764 students, and the number of students studying for the priesthood was reduced to only 14. Kim Larson.

SPEAKER_01 5:12

Billings watched all of this unfold. Catholic schools in Billings were not isolated from these national trends. They depended on the same fragile balance, tuition, and parish support. And both were under strain. The question in Billings was not whether Catholic education mattered. The question was whether it could survive. As the crisis deepened across the country, Catholic education in Billings stood on the edge of the same fate. National trends eventually became local realities. By the early 1970s, what Catholic communities across the country were experiencing had reached Billings. Catholic education here was strong, but it was not immune. Billings Catholic schools depended on the same two supports that had sustained them for decades. Tuition paid by families, and financial assistance from parishes. For a long time that balance had worked. The sisters kept costs low. Parishes absorbed what families could not pay. But by the 1970s, that system was breaking down. As the number of women religious declined, Catholic schools and billings, like schools everywhere, had to rely more heavily on lay teachers. Lay teachers deserved fair wages, and fair wages required money. Tuition rose. For some families, the increase was manageable. For others, it was not. Parents faced agonizing decisions. They wanted Catholic education for their children, but they also had mortgages, groceries, and medical bills to pay. Parish budgets were strained as well. Parishes were expected to fund schools, maintain buildings, support priests, and expand ministry in a growing city. Something had to give. Raise tuition too high, and enrollment falls. Lose enrollment, and tuition must rise again. This cycle had already closed schools everywhere. Leaders in Billings could see the pattern clearly. The question was not whether this cycle existed. The question was whether Billings could break it. Here is Adam Liberty from the Billings Catholic Schools Foundation.

SPEAKER_02 7:39

But very much at during that time in the 70s. Catholic schools all across the country were dying. You know, the statistic I often use, if you hear me speak enough, is one out of two Catholic schools have closed. More than 50% of Catholic schools have closed in the last 50 years. So every Catholic school that's here today is beating the odds. Really looking at death and really looking at what that meant for the schools, there was a group of individuals and folks who said, we are not going to let that happen. We are going to move forward in a new way, in a way that is going to bring life and abundance back to these schools.

SPEAKER_01 8:19

By the early 1970s, conversations about Catholic schools and billings became more serious and more constrained. It was no longer enough to ask, how do we improve? The question had become, how do we survive? This was especially painful because Catholic education in billings had never been a luxury. It was built through sacrifice by families, by parishes, by religious communities. Losing schools would not simply mean changing educational options, it would mean losing identity, formation, and generations of shared history. The possibility of closure forced difficult questions. Could parishes continue to subsidize schools indefinitely? Could families absorb ever rising tuition? Was Catholic education in Billings destined to become something only a few could afford? These were not abstract concerns. They were discussed in parish meetings, school board rooms, and at kitchen tables across the city. And yet Billings had one thing many other cities did not. Leaders willing to ask a different question. As the pressure mounted, Catholic education in Billings stood at a crossroads, either repeat what was happening elsewhere or imagine another way forward.

SPEAKER_02 9:46

It actually started with Mr. Philip Fortin himself. And what was interesting was that Philip Fortin, he had oil man back in town, had connections to our schools, to Billings Central. There were rumors at the time he had just given a gift. A significant gift. And there were after he gave that gift, there were rumors that Billings Central was going to close. And so he called in one of his friends, a fellow oil man by the name of Ralph Studer, R.J. Studer. Just called him down the office. They worked at the petroleum building, I assume, and said, What's going on? And he asked this really famous question, or at least it's famous in our context in this lore. They had a conversation and Mr. Philip Fortin says, If it's all gonna close, have we made a difference? And I think there's a lot in that question. And I think it really goes, again, goes back to our mission.

SPEAKER_01 10:49

Crises often force a moment of clarity. In the early 1970s, Catholic leaders in Billings understood the situation with painful honesty. If nothing changed, Catholic schools here would follow the same path as so many others across the country. Tuition alone could not carry the future. Parish support, though generous, was stretched to its limits. The familiar model of Catholic education was no longer sustainable. But instead of asking, how long can we hold on? Leaders in Billings asked a more difficult question. What would it take to ensure Catholic education not just next year, but for generations? In 1973, a small group of lay leaders came together with a new idea. It was simple in concept, but radical in implication. What if Catholic education in buildings rested on three pillars, not two? Tuition, parish support, and an endowment. An endowment would not replace family sacrifice. It would not excuse parishes from responsibility, but it could stabilize what had become dangerously fragile. On August 3rd, 1973, that idea became real. The Billings Area Catholic Education Trust, BACET, was established.

SPEAKER_02 12:15

They all got together at Mr. Harringer's house and they started talking. And it took over the course of many years, not many years, a year, sorry, took over the course of a year, to really decide what they were going to do and what was the model moving forward. And they came to this. They came to the Billings Area Catholic Education Trust. That was Mr. Harringer, that was Chuck Harringer who came up with that. They wanted to call it BACIT, which was an acronym for that. And the whole reason for that was they knew they were going to call it BACIT so that they could go and fundraise for people, beg, and say, Will you back it?

SPEAKER_01 12:52

In taking that risk, in starting back it, Billings leaders looked at that cycle that was happening nationally. They recognized schools were closing. They recognized these problems were coming home to Billings. They took that seriously.

SPEAKER_02 13:10

They saw that way back then. And what has claimed so many Catholic schools across this nation has not claimed us because they were able to see, see it, and I think prophetically see that, look at it, and then respond, what I only assume is God's grace, to say this is what we need to do. I think even the best story about that is that it's not even they looked at others to do it. They had personal ties to this. They were putting their names behind it. And every board meeting, when they first got it launched, every board meeting, you brought a donation and you put it into the middle of the table in order to get into the board meeting. It was $100, so I was told. $100, if you're a board member, you put $100 in to get into the board meeting. And that's how Backett started, which is just simply tremendous.

SPEAKER_01 14:00

The initial contribution totaled $3,000. It was not a large sum, but it was a decisive one. Backett was not created because Catholic education was flourishing. It was created because Catholic education was in danger. And because leaders believed something essential. That Catholic schools were not merely programs, they were ministries worth protecting. Adam Liberty again.

SPEAKER_02 14:34

And this is a perpetual fund. It goes on forever. And that's what I mean when the fund goes on forever. You're not just looking at next year. You're not just looking at the year following. You're not just looking at 10 years. You're thinking generationally. When I give money, you, whoever, when I'm giving funds to back it, to the endowment, I am giving funds to yes, students today, yes, students tomorrow, but I'm giving funds to my great-grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, grandchildren, whatever it is. You know, this these funds are going to be impacting students for two, three, four, five generations down the road.

SPEAKER_01 15:16

And while Backett represented a significant shift towards long-range thinking, there were still real needs that existed today.

SPEAKER_02 15:24

You can't talk about Backett with actually also without Mayfair too, because Mayfair started in 1976. And I think of these two events together in some ways, in a lot of ways. You have Backett, which was starting to grow at that time, starting to put in, starting to say we need this long-term stability, but they also knew they had immediate needs that they needed to do. And that's what Mayfair was going to be: immediate needs. Because the schools at that time needed money then. And so they started Mayfair in 1976, just a couple years after Backett. And even to today, those two things go in tandem together. One long-term, both impacting now and in the future, Mayfair impacting today, and what's happening in the schools today. And I think those two things, by pairing those two things, that is a really incredible vision that they had, a response to God's calling to say, we need both today and tomorrow. And there certainly was no given success. But again, it was them deciding, responding to God's call, we need to do something. And here we are, 50 years later, both on both of those things. This that time frame in our schools incredibly pivotal. Incredibly pivotal. And we frankly wouldn't be here today without both.

SPEAKER_01 16:53

The institution of Packet and Mayfair changed the way people thought, but it took the whole community.

SPEAKER_02 16:59

It's not just about your kid at this time. It's about your grandkids, it's about your future grand, but it's also about all of our grandkids. It's about this place and how it continues to ripple across our community into the future. You know, will you back it is not a trite phrase, it is a personal calling. And those are something that you live, that is within you.

SPEAKER_01 17:26

The creation of Backett asked something new of the Catholic community. It asked people to see Catholic education not only as parents, but as stewards. To invest not just for their own children, but for families they would never meet. To believe that faith and learning deserved continuity, even if the payoff would come decades later. This was not an easy ask. Endowment thinking required patience in a moment of anxiety, trust, in a time of fear. But gradually the idea took hold. Backett became a shared commitment across parishes and families. A signal that Catholic education in Billings was not going to fade quietly. Backett did not solve every problem. Schools still faced challenges. Enrollment still fluctuated. Costs still rose. But the trajectory had changed. For the first time in years, Catholic education in Billings had margin. Time to plan. Time to adapt. Time to breathe. While schools elsewhere closed, Billings endured. Not because the community was wealthier, but because it chose to act differently. Backett did not just preserve schools, it preserved possibility. In the midst of a national collapse, Billings chose a question that still echoes today.