The Gathering (12 page)

“Certainly. But don’t say anything to your parents until after I meet with them. Let me break the news and explain everything to them.”

Young Stanley nodded, then left, his shoulders sagging.

Simpson rubbed his hands together. Not a bad ploy if he did say so himself. He had always thought Church law was crazy when it came to marriage. It wouldn’t bother him in the least to smash a couple or three of those laws.

Now he would have to enlist the willing cooperation of the boy’s parents … to get Stanley into the seminary—and keep him there.

No problem anticipated in that direction. Mr. Benson will see the advantage of having his son’s education taken care of. And Mrs. Benson—well, Mrs. Benson will be on cloud nine!

And I, he exulted, I’ll be on a fast train out of Guadaloopville!

He smiled—totally self-satisfied.

   
TEN
   

H
OLY REDEEMER’S SCHOOLS
opened on schedule.

The IHM nuns taught grade school in the same building and the same classrooms they had been using over the years. Except that now there was no segregation by sex. The elementary pupils were given slips of paper informing them which classrooms were theirs. The pupils were assigned alphabetically.

High school was another story. Not only were the boys and girls integrated—again alphabetically—but the Sisters had replaced the Brothers.

The new system would require time and patience to get used to. Initially, the high schoolers missed the Brothers’ rough-and-tumble manner. Of course the students had had nuns as teachers from grade one through grade six. But the Brothers had taught the boys from grades seven through twelve.

Everyone from the archdiocesan education office downtown to the teachers in the classrooms were prepared for disciplinary problems and even some defections.

The reality was heartening. The high school boys seemed to consider their female teachers as ladies who should be treated as such. They were deferential. The nuns were quietly grateful.

Here and there were empty seats of students expected to be aboard but who were not. The seats were quickly filled from a sizable waiting list.

Among those who would be sorely missed were Rose Smith and Alice McMann. Although they were not leaving the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, they were kissing the integrated halls and classrooms of Redeemer High good-bye.

They were excellent students—though Rose was by far superior. The two would have raised the bell curve of academic achievement markedly.

But the faculty was certain that Redeemer would somehow survive without them.

Henry and Lucy Smith had exploded on learning of the planned integration of Redeemer’s schools.

There were vague threats to remove their children from that school. Cooler heads prevailed, though there was precious little time.

The first decision was to leave Michael in Redeemer’s eighth grade. He would have girls his own age as classmates, but only for one year. If he couldn’t withstand temptation for one scholastic year, he didn’t deserve to be a priest.

Besides, in his buddy, Manny Tocco, he would have a strong personality to steady him.

Until now, Mr. and Mrs. Smith had not been all that happy over the boys’ friendship. Manny could be too rough on occasion. There was that famous—or infamous—fight that everyone seemed to be talking about. Both Manny and Michael had learned valuable if unexpected lessons from the singular episode.

Ordinarily, honest-to-God upperclassmen, particularly those who had just entered high school, would lord it over eighth graders, who seemed neither fish nor fowl.

Not that many schools housed all the full twelve grades. In the schools that comprised the primary grades, the eighth graders became king of the castle. But they would be at the bottom of the heap when they moved into the ninth, the first year of high school.

However, at schools such as Redeemer, eighth graders would, in effect, go nowhere when they eventually passed into high school.

There was something decidedly out of the ordinary in the way in which upperclassmen—high schoolers—treated Manny and Michael.

It seems that Switch and Blade were familiar to many Redeemerites. The duo’s MO was identical in repeated forays, especially in the parking lots of the church and school. Switch would play provocateur; Blade would take the lead. They would never attack more than two at a time. And that only if the prey were small and not likely to put up much of a fight.

That’s what made their encounter with Manny and Mike so pivotal.

Undoubtedly the villains had reconnoitered Mike and Manny as the boys played their innocent game of catch. Since neither of the boys was particularly large; they appeared to be easy pickings.

The tale of how Manny took Blade was repeated and embellished as school got under way. Everyone seemed to defer to Manny and, by extension, Michael.

To top off the straight story, neither Switch nor Blade had been seen anywhere in the vicinity of that celebrated parking lot since.

Manny did not anticipate further fights. For one thing, Mrs. Tocco would not overlook another torn and bloody outfit. For another, Manny had fought that day only in self-defense. That would be the only reason he might fight again. And with his reputation as it was, that seemed a remote possibility.

Though he had played a minor, almost negligible role, Michael had indeed been part of that war of liberation. Besides, he was Manny’s sidekick and, as such, shared in the respect newly accorded his friend.

All the while, Mike was learning that it definitely paid to be aggressive on occasion. If one never asserted oneself, one stood a good chance of being bullied. Later, much later, this principle would play a defining part in Mike’s life. For now, Manny’s reputation protected both him and Mike.

This benefit was not a one-way street. Mike tutored Manny, who did well in his studies. But he could have done better.

Both boys took to heart Bob Koesler’s warning that the seminary was serious about study and accomplishment. At his suggestion, they concentrated on their English studies and even anticipated the beginning of a long career in Latin. After all, they
were
members of the Latin Rite of the Roman Catholic Church. And one day, please God, they would conduct almost all the Liturgy in that ancient language.

It was, however, not all study and no play. Manny and Michael made Redeemer’s eighth grade intermural football and basketball teams. Together they starred in an unbeaten season. Their simple formula was for Michael to get the ball to Manny and watch his teammate score.

From the stands, the Toccos and Smiths cheered on their sons.

All seemed well.

But unbeknownst to anyone, seeds had been planted that would ripen in ways no one could have anticipated.

Sacred Heart Seminary, was, unlike all Gaul, divided into only two entities: Day Dogs and House Rats. It depended on whether the student was a boarder or one who lived at home and commuted.

Both Bob Koesler and Pat McNiff lived close enough to commute to school. Based solely on their chance encounter on registration day, each became the first friend the other made. There would be many other circles of friendship.

Most of the boys came from parochial schools. Nothing odd about that. The priesthood enjoyed a preferential place in Catholic schools. Almost everyone who became a seminarian had been encouraged in his choice by nuns, who were always on the lookout for candidates for the religious life.

Bob Koesler alone had come directly from parochial grades staffed by the Brothers of Mary. Even so, it was a bit of a cultural shock now to be taught by priests.

Perhaps Bob’s biggest surprise was his fellow seminarians. These were young men pursuing the most sublime calling in all of Catholicism; he had half expected to find them wearing subtle halos.

Surprise: They were typical boys, pulling practical jokes, breaking nonessential seminary rules, competing fiercely in everything from physical games to academic achievement.

In no time, he fell into the rhythm of the place. In no time, he and his classmates might just as well have been together for years instead of mere weeks.

Bob did not need to be reminded that his goal was twelve long years off. But it seemed they were going to be good years.

He had no way of knowing that he might have profited from an academic minor in the police procedures of murder investigations.

The upcoming drastic change in the staffing of Redeemer’s schools outraged the Smiths, who felt betrayed. Their feelings were mirrored by those of the McManns.

Henry Smith “chaired” a meeting of the four parents. The young people were not invited.

All agreed that they could do nothing to challenge the move. Legal action was out of the question; the school obviously was within its rights in making this policy change.

So, what to do?

“Let’s begin,” Smith said, “with Michael.”

“You can’t do that without considering Mike’s buddy Manny,” his wife suggested. “They’re practically inseparable.”

“I’ve already talked to Mike about that. The Toccos have decided to let Manny continue at Redeemer for the eighth grade. Then, when his class gets to high school, he’ll be going to the seminary.”