Studs Lonigan (58 page)

“He's got plenty coming to him.”

“I never was afraid of him as a kid. Neither were you, Studs. You cleaned him, I remember.”

Studs nodded with pleasure. They stopped for a coca cola near the church, and then went to the meeting in the basement auditorium of the parish. Upon entering, Red commented that there was a pretty good crowd. Studs shook his head in agreement and remarked that every drug store cowboy in the neighborhood was present. He and Red circulated from group to group, acting superior, feeling that they deserved being noticed the way the punks noticed them. Without realizing the drift of his thoughts, Studs found himself remembering how they all used to come down to the same place when he was a kid, for singing practice for church, and for elocution lessons. A jane named Miss Cobb had been their elocution teacher. They'd all have to recite, and reciting, they'd have to stand up straight, heels together, feet out, the right foot straight, the left foot, half sidewise, a goofy position, and then recite things like:

It was goofy, and he'd always hated the singing too, but maybe because his own voice wasn't so hot. Preparing to sing at five o'clock mass on Christmas, they'd practice a half hour right after the afternoon bell rang at one o'clock. Christ, he used to hate it. He sang to himself:

For a moment, he felt as if he were a kid again, and then the song blew out of his mind, and he felt just lonesome and sad in a vague way without anything clear in his mind, and he hoped some of the guys from his class would be there. He realized that Phil Rolfe was talking to him.

“Say, Jew, this ain't a fish peddlers' convention,” Studs said.

“I can come down here, can't I? I just met Father Doneggan. He said he was glad to have me,” Phil said.

“Well, don't sell him any fish,” Studs said.

“Jesus, we better get the doors locked all right,” said Red.

“Maybe they got rat traps in back of the stage,” Studs said, pointing to the stage up in front, the same stage on which he had received his graduation diploma. Young Rocky called Phil to tell him something.

Big Nodalsky, who had turned into a tall, dark, sheiky guy, with greased hair parted in the middle and sideburns, greeted Studs.

“You're looking good. You haven't hardly changed a bit, Studs.”

“What are you doing?”

“Managing a dancing school and taxi dance hall down town, and giving lessons. But I expect to get lined up for a dancing act with Orpheum. But say, ever see any of the old boys?” Big Nodalsky asked.

“Once in a while. Monk McCarthy's brother, Red, is studying for the priesthood, and Monk has a political job and doesn't come around mooching any more.”

“Muggsy was always funny. He was smart but he'd never do anything, and he was always getting in trouble. But say, remember Cudahy? He's got a job with Sloan's Deerfield, the mail-order house.”

“Yeah, and I see Bill Donoghue once in a while,” Studs said.

“How is Bill? What's he doing?”

“He's got a job repairing adding machines.”

“Good old Bill, and what about his brother, Dan?”

“Dan runs a movie in his uncle's chain up in Madison, Wisconsin. He gets into town now and then, Bill says, but I hardly ever see him.”

“And Tubby?” asked Nodalsky.

“Haven't seen Tubby in a couple of years. The last I heard of him, he was a glazier's apprentice.”

“Jesus, those were the days, weren't they, Studs?”

“Yeah, they were. You were in the same room with our class, weren't you?”

“I was in seventh grade when you were in eighth, but, say, I wonder what happened to Battling Bertha?” asked Nodalsky.

“I think she died.”

“She was hard-boiled all right; the year I was in eighth grade, I remember one day she got tough with Johnny O'Brien. He was a grade behind me. Well, he hauled off on her. Yeah, he socked her.”

“I think I remember hearing something about that when it happened.”

“There'll never again be days like those.”

“Nope,” said Studs.

Studs' eyes roved. Plenty of girls, most of them young flappers, Loretta's age. Only a couple of years ago they were kids. Now they were all painted up, and Christ, he'd bet a lot of them knew more than you imagine.

“Say, Studs, remember the time, the year after you graduated, when you, Weary Reilley and some of the other lads from your class came around in the afternoon and ran through the hall like a tornado. It was funny; and Goofy Cudahy yelled out, ‘Jesus, the Germans are here!' It was funny. But Bertha gave him the clouts,” Nodalsky said, both of them laughing.

Austin came up with a glad hand. Red followed, and asked when the meeting was going to start. He answered right away. He said he was glad to see Red and Studs up to the meeting, because they wanted to make a go of this club, and they needed fellows like Studs and Red. Studs was pleased to have Austin say this, but then, he reflected, what the hell! Austin was still a goddamn boy scout. Austin shot off to greet Dorothy Gorman.

Studs, after considerable hesitation, walked over to Father Doneggan and said hello.

“Well, how are things, Studs?” Father Doneggan asked.

“Oh, pretty good, Father.”

“Glad to hear it. And how are Dad and Mother?”

“They're fine.”

“Say, Studs, it's good of you to come up tonight! I meant to tell your brother to ask you, but didn't get around to it. I want, you know, to get a few of you older fellows with good heads in this organization to give it stability. We've got to weld a lively club together and still have it sensible, and we'll need fellows like you, Studs,” Father Doneggan said.

Studs smiled. Nice to have Father Doneggan say that. But he didn't know what a wild bird Studs Lonigan had been. Well, no, he was right, fellows like him and Red could be useful, if the boy scouts and church ushers or the punks just didn't go ahead and ruin it.

Big Larkin called Father Doneggan, and Studs watched him shoot nervously away. Father Doneggan was a regular guy. Studs would even bet that he'd have a drink with a fellow.

Larkin called the meeting to order. The males sat on one side of the hall, separated from the females by an aisle. Larkin leaned on the table, and jutted his mushy, red, almost womanish face forwards.

“Now, fellows . . . and . . . ah . . . ladies,” he commenced.

There were a few titters and smiles. Vinc Curley let out an unexpected horse laugh. Everybody looked pityingly at him.

“We are . . . ah . . . here to form a St. Patrick's Young People's Society for various . . . ah . . . reasons. First and foremost, we want to . . . ah . . . get behind Father Gilhooley in his effort to raise funds for getting this parish . . . ah . . . a church, a beautiful church that will be second to none in the city and that . . . ah . . . none of us need be ashamed of. And then again, we want to . . . ah . . . establish a per manent organization. But . . . ah . . . before we do that, discuss our plans and procedures . . . ah . . . we'll hear a few words from Father Doneggan.”

He smiled respectfully at Father Doneggan who rose, and, with swishing cassock, walked forwards. There were a few perfunctory and self-conscious claps.

“I am here to speak for Father Gilhooley, and to deliver to you his message, expressing his fondest hopes that this organization of the young people of St. Patrick's parish will be a most gratifying success, as I know, and as he knows, that it will. He asks me to state, in his name, that he promises to cooperate with you in every way that is feasible. Now, you people all know that for years it has been the fondest dream of your pastor to give the people of this parish a church of which it can be justifiably proud. When he came to this parish in the very first year of this century, there was not even a church, and he celebrated his first mass in a store building down the street that had been kindly donated to the purposes of God by a generous parishioner. He has built this present church building, housing the church, school, and the auditorium in which we are now gathered; and he has also built the sisters' home and the priests' house. All of these buildings are now free of debt, thanks to his diligence, energy, and intelligent handling of church moneys. Now, he is prepared to open the drive for funds which will enable him to realize his dream, the dream of every good parishioner of St. Patrick's. If all the parishioners support him according to their means and ability, as I am confident they will, he will continue with his present plans, and in the space of a few short years, St. Patrick's new church, bigger than the present, one of the most beautiful houses of worship in this city, will be not merely a plan or a dream, but a living actuality. And one of the principal reasons that your pastor sponsors the formation of this proposed young people's society is that he solicits your aid in the realization of these plans.”

Studs saw her, and Father Doneggan's words became a distant hum of distraction. She sat quietly, confidence in her manner, keen, with blond bobbed hair. He could see that her face was thin, proud. She looked like she'd be a hard dame to make. He didn't want just that. She would be hard to win. But there was a broad made for every guy, and she was the pattern cut out for him. He looked at her, unobtrusively, trying not to give himself away, as she sat, still, straight, wearing a green and red plaited flannel dress. He was hot for her, hotter than he'd been when he knelt beside her. He wanted the meeting to be over, so he could have her notice him, notice how people spoke to him. Hoped Fran knew her and would be talking to her, and he could just go up to Fran as if to ask her some question.

He looked back at Father Doneggan, heard him say that the organization they were forming would be a chance, also, to cement old friendships, and establish new ones, and to provide for a decent, satisfactory social life for the young people, with clean dancing and fun.

Father Doneggan was applauded at the conclusion of his talk. His face touched with redness, he sat down. Larkin arose and stood behind the table, leaning clumsily on it with closed fists.

“Now the first thing that concerns us is to get organized. I think we all agree to that,” he said dully, speaking first quickly and then pausing to hem out “ahs” as if he were struggling to catch his breath.

“And then the first task in getting organized is to elect a permanent chairman who will conduct meetings until we have our constitution with duly elected officers under it.”

Her silk-stockinged legs were crossed, showing up to the knees. She seemed bored. He acted bored, but he wished that some sort of a debate would start so he could say something and make her see he was different from Larkin and the church ushers.

“Mr. Chairman, I have one suggestion and one motion to present to the house. First, I would suggest that a temporary secretary be appointed to keep the minutes of this meeting,” Red Kelly said arising.

“That's an excellent suggestion, Mr. Kelly,” Larkin replied.

“And I would suggest in order to save time that the chairman we elect appoint this secretary. Later on, when we have a constitution, we will elect one. Now I move that nominations for a permanent chairman be placed before the house.”

“I second Mr. Kelly's motion,” said Austin McAuliffe.

Larkin was nominated and elected chairman, and he appointed McAuliffe as temporary secretary. A pencil and several sheets of paper were procured, and Austin took a chair at the table beside Larkin.

“Now, the next thing that we need is a constitution,” Larkin said, without omitting the “ahs.”

“Mr. Chairman, I think that it would be wise before we made any definite move about the constitution to have a little discussion so that we could be clear in the purposes and aims we wish to embody in our constitution.”

“Well, I think that we all have that in mind and know more or less what we want, but if anyone wants to say anything about it, he can have the floor.”

“You got a line like a Philadelphia lawyer,” Studs said to Red in amazement and admiration as Red sat down.

Adele Rogers, who had turned into a flapper, arose, swung her shoulders from the weight of a raccoon coat and said she thought they ought to run a dance. Larkin said of course they would, but that that would be worked out after they got the organization settled. Dick Buckford proposed a baseball team, and that likewise was tabled.

Austin McAuliffe, smiling and polite, asked for the floor, and said that if he may, he would like to say a few things.

“We know, in general, what we want in a constitution. There must be provision for the way to conduct meetings, elect officers, the payment of dues, the minimum number of meetings each month, the organization and conduct of social affairs and such things.”

“How much will we have to pay?” Vinc Curley interrupted.

Austin concluded his suggestions by proposing that there be a committee appointed to draft a constitution, and a time limit be set upon them so that they could get going. Red asked that the floor be left open for a brief period to solicit suggestions on the constitution before the chairman appointed a committee. Studs saw through Kelly, realizing that Red just wanted to shoot his mouth off. There was a debate on whether dues should be twenty-five or fifty cents a month. Studs tried to think of something to say so he could pitch right in and impress her. His mind empty of ideas, he watched her from the corner of his eye. He hoped he would be put on the committee. Finally, the committee was appointed. Red was on it, but not he. He was sorry, and yet glad, because he didn't want to be bothering with a lot of crap, and having to meet Larkin and McAuliffe and draw up a damn constitution. But an appointment might have made her realize who Studs Lonigan was.