Today is Election Day 1995, a wet Tuesday in the city of Brotherly Love. It has memories of other election days and of one nearly 30 years ago. I was a candidate, a participant, and not just a watcher. It resulted in, a loss that at the time seemed disappointing. In the long run it was a blessing in disguise. It fulfilled an adage of Richard T. Esq. (my dad, not my nephew) had about politics, “It was good”, he would say, “to run, but better to lose”. He philosophized that participating when necessary, as a candidate to help the party or a cause, was good, but Lord help you if you really got elected. I understood him only later in life when I saw what happened in some cases to those whom I knew that did get elected. He, Dad, lived what he believed so he ran many times in a Republican controlled city on the Democratic ticket. No chance that he could get elected but he was a participator in this system called “democracy”. He even made an exception now and then to voting the straight party line, not often, but in the case of friends and some one he felt was better morally. (He had no problem determining this like most of us plain mortals!) He conceded late in the game that once in while it was a good idea to throw the whole gang out and start all over with a new bunch. He saw that happen in 1952 with the ascent of Dilworth and Claik in the city and in 1932 with FDR nationally. I believe he would want a few changes in this city today from some of the party politics that now prevails. What is amazing that it has produced, at least temporarily a decent and capable man for mayor, Ed Rendell. It is some of the lesser lights that leave much to be desired. (Thus spake Zaruthpaul from his mount of wisdom!)
I have many fond memories of the campaign of ’66. Like the one of a little girl running around in the front of a crowd in a shopping mall listening (supposedly) to me. She is carrying pencils engraved with “Vote for Paul Leo McSorley for Legislature”. The little girl grew up to work in the halls of Congress, the big legislature in the sky. I remember fondly people working with me day in and day out to campaign in a solid Republican ward, the 35th. One of those was John Malone, the father of my present landlord. We were knocking on doors and asking those who answered to vote for Paul McSorley. We had to answer the constant query,” Is he a Republican?” with ”No, but…” Most of the time that was when the door closed, sometimes not too gently. Once in awhile I would get at least to say, “Do you know who is running against me?” To which I’d received a shrug, or a “No”, or “I don’t care”, so one time I responded, “It’s Mickey Mouse!” which elicited the response, “So what, as long as he’s a Republican mouse, I’ll vote for him!” They did so and thus I managed to “live up” to Dad’s adage: “Run but don’t win! But I can’t honestly say, “I lived up to it”, since while it was happening I was not really happy about it. Losing was not why I had run, etc., etc. It was good experience for the young lawyer and a great way to learn “communication”.
Communication is the theme and meat of the Terkel book, “Coming of Age”. Yes, the same one in which Rev. Richard McSorley is interviewed. I broke down and purchased a copy. I tried to get a discount since I am related to one of the interviewees but the girl at the desk didn’t oblige. She was duly impressed however, enough to suggest I get the book autographed! Now there’s an idea whose time has come.
In the intro to the book Mr. Terkel has a quote I enjoyed. It was, “Wright Morris some thirty years ago pin pointed the dilemma: “We’re in the world of communications more and more, though we’re in communication less and less.'” The “dilemma” he refers to is not the technology of the age but the purposes to which it has been put. He uses the examples of the “sound bite” being considered “wisdom”, or “trivia as substance”. He attempts in the book to interview a cross section of people who have lived the century, or at least 70 years of it. He lets them tell what they did and thought, are doing, and thinking about the world today. Father Dick’s contribution is excellent. I was proud to tell the girl at the desk, that I am related to one of the interviewees. I am proud of knowing someone who undertook the things he did and the manner in which he did them. He alluded to those things in this interview. There is nothing new, or that I didn’t remember him doing, it is I suppose seeing them in print together impressed me even more. I recommend you try to see this report. I will violate the copyright laws and make a copy eventually. It is pure Father Dick with editing by Mr. Terkel. It is his story and in his words. The author mentions Dick in the introduction when discussing what the young seem to need today in the eyes of these activists: “the elderly Jesuit suggests, ‘what they need is a national cause’”.
The election and my memories of it brought back another. It was in 1967. I had accepted a place on a ticket with James H. J Tate, who was running for Mayor. He had become Mayor in 1963 by default. As the President of city council when Mayor Dilworth resigned to run for Governor he became Mayor. Mr. Tate needed a ticket because the party was not supporting him. His buddy Francis Smith was chairman and decided to support Alex Hemphill, the Controller. The fact that Frank Smith was not supporting Tate is a story in itself in as much as Jim and Frank were allegedly so close that Jim’s only son was named after “Frank”. But I’ll pass on that one at the present time. This explains why Jim needed to make up a “ticket”. Mike Stack, Tate’s campaign manager, a classmate and friend of mine, called to advise me of this problem .He asked me to accept a place on the ticket to give credence to Tate’s assertion that’ he would run without the party support’ (pure fantasy). Mike gave me a choice between district council and Register of Wills. I chose Register of· Wills. It was citywide and I even knew what the job entailed. The Party supported-candidate and incumbent was John E Walsh, a good friend of Richard T’s and mine. The election laws permitted a candidate to withdraw, as I now recall, some 30 days before the election. As the time neared John Walsh came up to our office (we were then on the 11th floor of the Land Title Bldg, and John was somewhere below). He came to see Dad. He had already approached me on several occasions asking if I would withdraw. I advised him that I owed it to Jim to stay on until he said “OK” and he hadn’t done so. So John was going to see Richard T. to convince him that I should do so. I was summoned to the corner office (where his Majesty’s abode was in those days) Dad asked why I was not withdrawing. I carefully explained that I was waiting for Jim to say so, and that it appeared he was not going to do so before the cutoff date. I pointed out that I had spent exactly $25 on the campaign. The $25 was the cost of filing the petition of nomination. I did not expect to spend more or campaign at all since it appeared Jim’s purpose had been served.’ The ward leaders were deserting their Chairman and supporting Jim over Alex. Having said all this I then heard my father say, “John, I wouldn’t worry about it. If fact if it’s any consolation you can be assured that I’m voting for you!”
Looking back I laugh but even then it was not too much of a surprise. Richard T. thought I was forgetting his adage about running and not winning, since it was possible with a full campaign and Tate’s support I could possibly be elected.
It recalls the old adage:” A prophet is without honor in his own country (or office!)
It is now November 15 and I am reminded of this day in 1952 when Mom went to Heaven. I was a 2nd year law student. I was barely that since I had to appeal to be accepted. I used Mom’s long illness as an excuse for my failure to concentrate. She had been in a coma or unconscious from some time around June of ’52 till this day in
November. Prior to that she was in and out of consciousness back to 1951. She had been at Winifred and Paul’s home on 4718 Windsor since I believe the fall of ‘51.
November 15, ’52 was a Saturday. I had been to a football game at Penn. I don’t recall who played, who won, or who was with me. I somehow learned the news after the game and headed to Windsor Avenue. Mother had had a stream of visitors in the months of her coma from the Cardinal (then Archbishop) O’Hara right on down to sisters of every order in any way related to Eleanore, Mary, Therese, or Roie. As I arrived I saw Dad on the porch and he had tears in his eyes. He kept repeating, “She’s gone”. Then as if any explanation was necessary, saying things like: “It was a relief, It wasn’t a surprise, It was suppose to happen, etc. etc.” I received a slight knock for not being there at the moment she left. I similarly remember scolding myself for not being there. But looking back it is no longer a regret since I was there in spirit and many times in the flesh. The months of her coma made it impossible to always be there. It seems to me that Winnie and the girls were always there. I was living either at 4116 Baltimore Ave, the old homestead, or in a room down by the Law School. So I had another excuse.
When Dad died in 1972 he was living at my home. I do accept responsibility for not being there. I was drinking and find it even difficult to recall exactly where I was, and why I could not be reached. He had apparently died around 9 or 10 in the morning. Katherine waited for Bill to get home from school to send him into his room to assure her that it was a fact. I didn’t arrive till some time late in the evening and by that time Dad’s body had been removed to the funeral parlor. I think with the help and advice of Dan, Marge, and Ann.
November is the month of my odyssey to Sulu in 1970 to bury Bishop Frank. It is the month of Kate Cosgrove Baker’s birthday on the date of Mom’s death some 37 years later. It is the 6th birthday this year. So it is a bright spot in the memories of November. Happy Birthday Kate!!
Last but not least, it is the month of thanksgiving only with a capital “T”. So let me thank all of you for being who you are. (Meaghan we will get back to your memories…I promise)
A thought: “An Optimist is a fellow who believes a housefly is looking for a way to get out.” (Nathan)
POST SCRIPT: November Jottings: 11/19/95
When we arrived home yesterday (11/19/95) from New Brunswick, N.J. around 3PM we received a message from Marge to call. The message was that Therese had died at about 11 AM. So another name will be added to list of those who have left us in this month. Therese joins Mom (15th) and Frank (19).
Incidentally the trip to New Brunswick was to see the twins win their second playoff game. One more, next week and it is on to Disneyworld in Orlando.
Later yesterday in the mail I opened a letter from Dick, which detailed his recent small stroke. (Oct 31) He spent the day mostly in the Georgetown Emergency Room. He is happy to report that he ended his day back in his own room. Therese was in my thoughts just last month. I spoke of her and I meeting in what was called Winnie and Eleanor’s Room to discuss Aristotle or the like. I kept forgetting recently how sick she really was and that she was sent home from the hospital because they were unable to do what I think was a bypass or the like. It seemed her condition was such that an operation of that nature would be fatal. It was a bit of shock then to hear the news. We whispered a DeoGratis with our R.I.P., since we first believed the bad news might concern Winnie.
Therese had a wonderful sense of humor. She enjoyed ribbing and being ribbed. An example is: While sitting at a table at Mary T’s wedding last November, she thanked me for my Jottings and said: “But what do we do with all the paper?” I presumed she meant after she read it. I had to laugh since the thought had never occurred to me. I suppose in my conceit I believed everyone would be saving them for posterity {or posterior use}, or as an old wag story I remember from high school days goes… it could be saved so that some day it might be a second or third class relic…my relic classification code is a bit rusty… but you get the point and I got to laugh.
Thinking about her I also thought of the lines by Shelly: ”Hail to thee, blithe spirit!” and a verse from the same poem, To a Skylark:
“We look before and after,
And pine for what is not;
Our sincerest laughter,
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell
Of saddest thought.”