Imagine that your head feels like it’s on fire. Chemicals put on your straight hair to turn it curly seem to be burning your scalp. “It’s burning,” Mary cried out to the beautician in the Wichita Falls salon. She wiped the tears of pain from her face. “Please take it off, it hurts,” Mary screamed out to no avail as she gripped the chair. “Quit being so difficult,” her step-mother insisted. “You’re embarrassing me!” The beautician came over and checked the cap. When she removed it slightly, her eyes widened and her face grimaced in horror seeing the child’s burnt scalp. Mary had been right. The permanent solution had burned the her skin. Quickly the beautician took her by the hand to the sink and began to rinse. But it was too late. The singed hair sloughed off into the sink and reddened, second degree burn marks covered half the child’s head. “Oh my heavens, what have you done to her?” the step-mother incredulously cried out.
Little Mary McLarry’s head was chemically scorched. She was in so much pain, but dared not cry another tear in fear of the severe rebuking she would receive from her new step-mother. Mary’s mother died when she was just eight and her father, not wanting to raise a daughter alone, quickly remarried a horrific woman who was jealous of Mary from the beginning. The step-mother was critical, overly strict and sent Mary away from the house as often as possible. Her father bought her a wig to wear at school. She was mocked by her fellow students who stared at her fake hair. But during the hot Texas summers when school was not in session, times at home were merciless. Battle after battle with her step mother. Mary spent much of her time sequestered away in her room. Practicing the motions of her piano skills on her small desk, as she was not permitted to practice downstairs where the piano was located. Her step mother complained it was too loud. When she wasn’t practicing, she would often sing hymns from church quietly to herself. Or read whatever books she had gotten from the library.
But that would change. One day, her father came upstairs and told her to pack a bag. He was taking her to the Our Lady of Victory convent in Fort Worth, Texas. He had enough of the bickering and his new wife’s complaining. Mary was just 12 years of age. “But Daddy, I don’t know anyone there. When will you come visit me?” Her father had no answer. The nuns of OLV were gracious enough to take her in. Her father explained he had been widowed and that in order to make his new marriage work, Mary had to leave the home. As Mary entered the tiny room upstairs in the convent, she never felt more alone in her life. As she sat down her suitcase of books, music sheets, and the few pieces of clothing she owned, she knelt down to pray. But she wouldn’t cry.
Mary was enrolled at OLV school and during her seventh grade year, she met a friend that would remain a constant for her entire life, Larry Breedlove. They talked about books. They discussed the doctrines of their Catholic faith. Mary would play church music and Larry would attempt to sing. He was at OLV because he wanted to become a priest. She received the sacrament of confirmation in 1950 at Immaculate Conception Parish in Denton. She committed to a religious life as a nun on Sept. 1 of the same year with the Sisters of Saint Mary of Namur. Many of those nuns had been her teachers while at OLV.
Mary was a brilliant student, who excelled in music. She played both the organ and piano. She obtained a scholarship to attend the American Conservatory of Music and in 1960 received a bachelor’s degree in music with a concentration on the piano. She then went on to complete a Master’s degree in literature from the University of Notre Dame in 1969, attending graduate schools during the summers. During the school year she taught religion and choir at Nolan Catholic High School. To make money on the side, she taught piano lessons. She remained chaste and very committed to her Catholicism. Closeness to God had gotten her through some of the roughest times in her life. Her life-long friendship, with Larry Breedlove, who had indeed been ordained as a priest flourished.
In 1970, Father Breedlove became pastor of St. Peter’s Catholic Church in White Settlement, a suburb of Fort Worth. He hired Mary as his Director of Music and Literature. Mary worked with the organist Ruth Elsken to learn some of the more progressive music written by Dan Schutte and Marty Haugen. She formed a youth-based musical group with guitars, a couple of flutes and a trumpet. Masses at St. Peter’s were quite progressive during those 70s, reflecting the overall attempt to modernize the church in the post-Vatican II way which Father Breedlove embraced. Sister Mary, in her double knit shirts, skirts, and loafers delighted in this role. She sometimes wore a modest habit on her head to cover the wigged pony tail. In addition, she wore a leather bound wooden cross.
Mary was known for her caring, gentle, soft spoken nature, but underneath that calm demeanor was a strong, determined spirit. Mrs. Elsen, the organist, remembers how she welcome and encouraged all to experience liturgical music, despite the quality of their singing or prowess of musicianship. Not only did she became a progressive leader in music and literature at St. Peter’s, soon word of her expertise spread throughout the Diocese of Fort Worth. Her talent expanded into faith formation of future deacons for the diocese. In 1985, Mary decided to leave formal religious life and took on the responsibility of a niece who had lost her parents. Shortly after, Bishop Delaney of Ft. Worth appointed her as the Director of Worship for the entire diocese. But Mary never stopped supporting the Sisters of OLV volunteering to fulfill whatever needs they incurred. Mary created LitNet a network of professional and non-professionals encouraging them to work within their parishes to coordinate progressive music and liturgical experiences. What a difference she made for Catholics in the diocese. Mary worked in this way for the Office of Worship until 2007 when she retired.
Father Breedlove had been relocated to Holy Name parish and Mary followed him there. Their friendship remained close until the very end. Some rumored that they were romantically involved, but that wasn’t the case. Both shared a deep love of their faith and relished in their friendship. Sadly, the brilliant mind of Sister Mary McLarry began to decline in her older age. Mary died at the age of 85, being cared for in Washington state by the niece she raised Jenepher. Her life was celebrated with remembrances from the Sisters. First at a packed out rosary vigil at Thompson, Harveson and Cole funeral home, followed by a standing room only funeral at St. Peter’s Catholic church in Fort Worth. For Mary’s incredible faith and unique gift of both liturgy and liturgical music to north Texas, AgeView Press honors Mary McLarry as Belle of Steel #22. She truly changed her corner of the world.
jeanettevaughan 
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