The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [177]
“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.
II
Larkin called the meeting to order. The males sat on one side of the hall, separated from the females by an aisle. Larkin leaned o 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 permanent 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.