On March 14, 1972 I picked my father up at church. He would attend daily mass, and in fact would attend all the masses from 6:30 AM on, which usually meant one at that time and another around 8 AM. He had been living with us for some time then, I can’t recall when it started but I think it was probably in January of that year. Katherine usually drove him to the earlier mass but somehow this particular day I drove him to church, went for a run then came back and picked him up. He complained of being continually tired mentally and physically. He commented that he was ready to meet his maker. He was then nearly 86 years of age. He would die that day March 14,1972.
We talked on the way home about my running a marathon on March 19th in New York. It was probably only the second New York Marathon. I hadn’t run Boston yet but was hoping to do so in April. He did not really approve the running of marathons though he believed in the benefits of exercise. He himself had walked on many occasions from our home at 4116 Baltimore Avenue to his law office at Broad and Samson Streets in Philadelphia. That is close to some 30+ city blocks and a good couple of miles.
I didn’t learn of my Dad’s death until I arrived home that evening. My sister Marge and her husband Dan were there. Katherine saw him clothed lying in bed with one leg off the bed. She naturally thought he was asleep. But as time went on and she saw he was still in the same position she became apprehensive and sent our son Bill into the room to see if he was only sleeping. He wasn’t sleeping, he had died. Marge contacted an old friend and an undertaker from West Philadelphia. West Philadelphia was where I was raised and he spent most of his lifetime. I went the next morning to the funeral parlor and said good bye. We had a mass celebrated by his three surviving son priests, Dick, Pat, and Jim. The eldest and first-born had died in 1971. He was at that time the Bishop of the Sulu Islands. The church was packed with religious people, nuns and priests. There were several Bishops in the sanctuary. All came to pay their respects to a father who gave eight of his children to the service of God.
The mass and burial were on March 17th; St. Patrick’s Day and he wore a green tie. It was the first time in nearly 20 years that he was wearing anything but a black one. He began that in 1952 when his wife and my Mom died.
We had practiced law in the same office from 1958 till 1966. He then retired and I moved the office from that floor to another in the same building. I had some new associates. We had a partnership of Edward Blake, John Purcell, and myself. We called it “McSorley and McSorley”. We had my Dad listed as ‘of counsel’ so we could use the name. Ed was then assisting the new Court Administrator, Judge Vincent Carroll, for whom he was also a law clerk. So he didn’t want his name in the title. John had just quit working for an insurance company as an adjuster and decided he wanted to practice but didn’t care about his name being in the title. Ed and I had attended law school together. I think John and I had been high school classmates.
I was the only lawyer of the seven sons. My brother Joe started to study it at night but his job and children caught up with him and he never finished. I had passed the Pennsylvania bar exams finally in 1958 while stationed in the Marine Corps at the Philadelphia Naval Base. I had failed it in July of 1954 just after graduating but I did pass the Washington, D.C. exam. This qualified me as an attorney. It gave me a secondary m.o.s. as a legal officer, eligible for JAG. All Marines then had the primary duty as infantryman no matter what education or other non-service qualifications they may have had. I never practiced any military law but did attend the Naval Justice School, in Newport, RI to be qualified under the Military Code of Justice only recently passed by the Congress. I almost became assistant counsel in the matter of Sergeant McKeown. His charges were front-page news; He hired a New York criminal lawyer as his main counsel. He was charged with the death of some Marines. He was a boot camp sergeant and was marching them at night through some swamps that surround Parris Island. Several of them panicked and began to sink into the marshes, etc. etc. I was stationed at Camp Lejeune at that time and a friend, a Major and a lawyer asked me if I wanted to be an assistant in the matter. I thought I would but then I was recommended for an interview with the new Base Commander General, Joseph Earnshaw, USMC as his aide-de-camp. I got that job and had to pass on the assistant counsel offer.
I will always be grateful that I had the opportunity to chat with my Dad on his last day. He had been a great provider. He was not your chummy Daddy type. To him being a parent was one of his duties. It was not anything like the Father and Son relationship these days. He was some 42 years of age when I was born, and I was the seventh son and the thirteenth child! So even if he wanted to go out and throw the football around, or the likes he was beyond the age of doing it. I will always remember the only time he ever saw me engage in an athletic endeavor was in 1947 in the Philadelphia High School Track Championship. My high school, West Catholic High, had won the Catholic league track title and we were competing against Central High, which had won the Public League title. The event was held at Franklin Field, the University of Pennsylvania’s athletic field. I was running the mile. I was the number one miler on the team and had the duty to see if I could pull at least two others along with me so we would finish one, two, and three and garner the most points you could in that event. Prior to the event we warmed up by running around the track a few times and then I went up into the stands to see my Dad. He was shocked at all the running we had done! He thought we should have saved it all for the race. I did win the race and brought along two teammates so we scored all we could in that event. We won the championship. By the time I finished the race and looked up I saw my Dad was getting ready to leave and he gave me a wave good bye.
I did run the marathon in New York on the 19th. My two brothers Jim and Pat came with me. The marathon was all run in Central Park in those days. It started at “Tavern on the Green” and you then did three loops through the park. You passed the starting point twice, in my case near an hour each time, and finished there. Jim and Pat were there to cheer me on as I came by each time to the Tavern starting point. I later learned they had spent the time in between each of my appearances in the Tavern. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when Pat announced that the really enjoyed watching a marathon, his first, and would do so again!
My father’s ancestors as I remember were northern Belfast Irish. If they practiced any religion it probably was protestant. I never heard my father mention his Father’s religion. I know his name was Frank and so the first born of our family a boy was named Frank. I know Dad had two brothers since one was laid out in our parlor when he died of alcoholism. The other was named Edward and was a career serviceman, I think Army. His son Edward came and lived with us for about a year. We were never told why. I believe it was my oldest sister Winifred who told me Dad was a convert to Catholicism. It might explain his martinet manner in living it and having us do so. He was raised in South Philadelphia and that is where he met my mother. He told a story about his becoming a lawyer. He had gone to Central High School. It was even then highly rated academically. How he got in I don’t know. He graduated in 1904 and entered the University of Pennsylvania Law school. He failed. So he got a job at John Wanamaker Store. It was located across the street from City Hall. One day he was ordered to go out onto Broad Street across from City Hall and help empty a truck. He contended it was not his job to do such tasks. Beside, as he would tell his Dad later, he didn’t want anyone he knew seeing him doing such menial work. His boss said either you do it or you’re fired. He said, “I resign”. When he told his Dad how he had lost his job his father said, “You better go back to school and be a lawyer because apparently you’re not going to able to work for someone” So he did and graduated in the year 1909.
These jottings are more like a memoir than my usual ramblings. It seems appropriate that I found my self musing about my dad in the month of his birthday. Until next time, Pax Tecum!