Peter Nero announced: “The next number our Philly Pops will play is entitled ‘Donne Diane’, it is an aria from an opera composed by a little known Italian. It is not a reference to the now notorious ‘Princess Di or Lady Di’, but it may be remembered as the theme from an old TV show entitled ‘Sgt. Preston of the Royal Canadian Mounties’ or such.”
The “light bulb” of memory went on in my head. Preston, ah yes, John Preston who was named for that same TV show. Whatever happened to John? He came into my life unexpectedly as a gift from my Father. He came into our home when I believe Suzanne was not quite 8 or 9 in 1963 or 1964 He lived in our basement before he had to go to a home up on the Boulevard near Neshaminy Mall. When I left in 1977 he was working in the Common Pleas court computer room and had been married. I remember a reception of sorts we had at the Schwartzwald Inn for his marriage. We had non-alcoholic champagne. I remember Mary T. getting high on it and when we suggested a “Toast!” She responded with something like “A Toast with peanut butter and jelly!”
The best part of the story is how John got to 734. It began, as reported to me, in a barbershop in the Society Hill section of the city. The barber received a baby boy one day. It was discovered on his doorstep when he opened. He was deliberating what to do about the child when as fate would have it his first customer thought he’d like to have him. The customer was a merchant seaman with a good polish name. He was unmarried and beyond being mistaken for a “young man”. He managed to drink a little, as most sailors in port are apt to do. He did have a woman he called his friend and sometimes wife. She apparently thought it was a good idea. The barber had not notified the authorities and decided it would be easier to make it his customer’s problem. So the child went home with the merchant marine. The wife became a mother and she was a fan of Sgt. Preston of the Royal Mounties, so why not call the boy “John Preston”. Amen.
Some 10 years or so later our merchant marine found he had cancer and that it was terminal. He wanted to leave his social security money to the boy he now called his son. He had a problem. The SSA would only pay the money to his dependent “child”.
So why not adopt John? Single parent adoptions were not acceptable in the State of Pennsylvania in those days. So it was that he was directed to the office of the adoption “wizard”, Richard T. McSorley, Esq.
His problem was solved by a bit of circumstances that give credence to the expression: “Truth is stranger than fiction”. It happened that the President Judge of the family court, one Adrian Bonnelly, was a friend of Richard T’s. Adrian was divorced. Adrian was an Italian catholic. He had expressed to his friend, Dick, father of priests, nuns, and a bishop that he would like to be buried “in the Church”. One of the consequences of his divorce was that this was not permitted.
However, Adrian got to be a judge believing in politics, and he felt certain it, politics, would work in the church also. Thus his request to his friend Dick, who obviously was right up there in the politics of the church…or had to be in view of his children’s participation! Up comes Dick with a tough case – a single parent adoption. Dick, not being beyond politics for a good cause added a kicker: this boy will want to be a priest someday and as a bastard under Canon Law he wouldn’t be eligible. So here’s your chance Adrian, I’m sure Dick explained, to get your church burial and what better way than to provide the church with another priest! Adrian brought and the result was John Preston became the adopted son of our merchant mariner.
The cancer took its course and the sailor left the homeport for eternity. The seaman’s Will named yours truly as the guardian of the estate and person of the minor John Preston. Initially his adopted mother handled him well but she apparently could not keep it up. As a result he came to live at 734 Chandler St. in the basement.
Adrian died before my Dad did. I don’t know whether he ever achieved a Church burial. I can assure as of this date John Preston hasn’t entered the priesthood.
So Peter Nero’s playing of “Donne Diane” brought the story of how John Preston entered my life. It is what I recall of how things seemed to be at that time. I state this because I came across an epigram by G.K. Chesterton that reads: “Fiction is a necessity”.
It is a necessity to any one, says GK, who wants to write, since all writers deprived of fiction’s true freedom can only quite honestly try to remember how things seemed to be. I honestly have reported what I recall but in reading it over one can’t help but imagine it is a fairy tale, a fiction. Truth is stranger, and sometimes even more entertaining, than fiction.
It is April 6, 1996. I am sitting in the “Florida” room of Rich and Shirley’s home in St. Petersburg, FL. It is a dull day in the sky. I sit here in this somber weather with rain in the offing, thinking of John. Tomorrow, April 7 will mark his sixth anniversary of leaving us. We passed the Veteran’s Hospital here in St. Pete’s where he died. We pointed it out to our guest Betty and Jerry Hopkins. They never met John or at least I don’t think so. They made no mention of knowing him when we pointed out the hospital. I miss the old guy and all the help he was to me. I continue to be angry with him for not pursuing and persevering in his conduct to extend his life. I think of him every time I attend a funeral or go to a hospital for clients. He would’ve covered for me. He seemed to thrive on helping those in pain or on the threshold of death. I am reminded of him every time I visit Salome and Myrtle Dean (now 94 & 98 years young) in the Germantown House where John worked for the Housing Authority in the 80’s. They still remember his kindness’ to themselves and others there on Wayne Avenue.
I sit here in Rich’s home, John’s son, and remember how he raved about Florida – the peace and quiet of sitting on the bank of the small waterway which runs beside Rich’s property. It is here I remember him most and so it is fitting that I am here on his anniversary on Easter Sunday 1996. I still recall that look some six years ago as we retreated from his hospital bed. His look of goodbye! He would have been 67 years of age on his birthday in August 1990 (the year he died). I will be 67 years of age on my birthday in May. I hope he rests in peace. He seemed to be in so much pain as we left his room.
June and I have now decided to plant some roots in this area. We have signed an agreement to purchase a home here in “Shore Acres” a section of St. Petersburg. It is located on the Tampa Bay side of St Pete’s. It is a small home just made for two people. It is only a few blocks from Rich and Shirley’s home (where we are now staying).
Our plans are unsettled as to the precise time of a move. We are contemplating making it our home at least partially by 1999…the year I turn 70 (deo volente!) We are planning on spending more time here in the winters between now and then but still keep an anchor back a 7435 until we feel comfortable here. The distance between us and children, and grandchildren continue to make the decisions difficult, but not impossible. I can now report (4/27) that the mortgage application has been approved and we will settle on 1644 Connecticut Avenue on May 5th.
The Philadelphia “Daily News” in bold headlines read: “HARD CELL” and in smaller print under it blared: “City’s New Video Arraignment system is called a ‘disaster'”.
The story behind the headline begins on page 5 and reports: “In a state where delays of more than six hours between arrest and arraignment is considered legally ‘unnecessary’ defendants have been waiting three to five days! Blame local court reform…(It)…is part of a much broader $30 million dollar plan to modernize the court system with the latest technology.”
But the quote that will interest you the most is as follows: “‘we would have liked to have conducted dry runs for about a month before we started’ said project manager, Richard McSorley (emphasis added), Municipal Court’s administrator.”
So another McSorley makes the news. To make it noteworthy it is another “Richard T. McSorley”. He follows in the footsteps of the other “Richard T’s” who in times past were quoted or cited or photographed in the press. I needn’t refresh your recollection regarding the Rev. Richard T. since we have seen and heard much of his press-presence in these ramblings, but I would like to report a story told of the Patriarch. It happened in the year 1932 in the election of FDR. On the same ground where grandson Richard now is employed i.e., the Criminal Justice Center, there once stood the Bulletin Building. Wrapping around the corner of the building 10 or 11 stories up was a flashing and blinking sign that reported the latest headline news. It happened, on the night of the election in that year, it was flashing the election results. The road that runs beneath the sign is the circular drive that goes around City Hall. In that election, grandfather Richard was running for one of his many unelectable offices, being a Democrat in a Republican controlled city. The sign flashed “ROOSEVELT”…(and then the latest tally of votes), “MCSORLEY”, (and his vote). It is reported that the patriarch made many trips around city hall that night just to see his name up there in the lights with FDR…a winner. It sure must have been a joy to see yourself linked with a winner.
When Richard handed me the Daily News to read the article, he added, “don’t believe everything you read!” I advised him I wouldn’t, nor have ever done so, and particularly when it concerned someone whom I represented or myself. I’ll save those comments and reports for another time.
Today is May Day and so I will close the May Jottings. There is one item, which must be reported: The “1996 Lancerian Academic Octathalon Champ for the Sixth Grade” is Thomas McSorley aka Tommy. The Octathon consists of testing in eight subjects: History, Art, Science, Music, English, Math, Geography, and Religion. Tom finished 1st in Music, History, and English. He finished 2d in Art. The contestants are two students chosen from sixth, seventh, and eighth grades by the schools that accept the invitation to compete. Eight diocesan schools chose to do so. The students were tested for eight hours on Saturday and then had further testing on
Monday night. The awards were then given. Congratulations once again to Tommy!
Thought for the moment, “You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come; Knock as you please, there’s nobody at home.” (Pope-Epigram)