My memories of my Dad are many. He lived to the age of eighty-five and died in my home. We worked in the same law office for several years. It had been his office when I left the service in 1958. By 1961 he was semi-retired and the office was moved. A partnership was formed consisting of Edward Blake, Esq., John Purcell, Esq. and myself. We called it “McSorley & McSorley”. The reason neither Blake nor Purcell’s names were included was that John was only starting practice, he had served many years as a claim adjuster with an insurance company, so he passed on having his name in the title. Ed was a clerk for a Judge and thought it inappropriate to add his name to the title. We listed dad as “of counsel”. This meant that he was retired but available for advice.
My Dad was a martinet, i.e. ,“a person who demands absolute adherence to rules.” He practiced what he preached. He was as hard on himself as on any of his children. His Faith was foremost. I believe that his family originated from Northern Ireland, though we later learned that the name “McSorley” was derivative of “MacDonald” a Scottish name. His family in Ireland converted to Catholicism. He was an ardent believer and practiced the idea that Heaven was somehow earned. He therefore did what that required and made his children do likewise. It helped produce four priests and four nuns but at times it was only an arduous duty carried out without any thoughts of it serving God. Some of those duties were, daily Mass, daily recitation with all those at home of the rosary on our knees before a small altar in the dining room, and constant attention to the duties of your age, e.g., mostly doing your homework for school and household chores.
Even at the office he practiced what he believed was required by rising at noon and reciting aloud the “Angelus”. It is a verse and response prayer originally said in monasteries. It is a dramatic evocation of the moment of Incarnation in the womb of Mary. It opens with the words, Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae. (The angel of the Lord announced to Mary). In his book “Mysteries of the Middle Ages”, Thomas Cahill notes, “…it is quite possible that the thrice-daily recitation of the Angelus that became current in medieval Europe was precipitated by the impression made on Francis (of Assisi) by the repeated call of the muezzin (the Muslim call to prayer)”. My Father probably never knew the history of the prayer but it would have made little difference if he had. He religiously stood at noon and recited the prayer. He did so even if other people aside from myself were present. On one occasion I had brought in a friend from the Marine Corps. He was a lawyer and of Jewish background. He was practicing then in Bucks County. His name was Jean Green and he was completely befuddled by my father’s rising and beginning to speak out loud. I quietly whispered to him what was happening and as a good guy he went along with the show. But he often mentioned the incident when we later met.
In spite of these habits of worship Dad had deep feeling for the needs and suffering of others. One of the great acts that I learned of while he was still alive was his supporting a family, named McSorley but no relation, whose home had been destroyed by fire. In 1962 a member of that family, Charles, came to the office to visit Dad and ask for his assistance in getting on the Philadelphia Police force. He got the help and entered the force in October of that year and served for 22 years, mostly as a Narcotic’s Detective. Twenty years before his visit when the fire occurred it made the newspapers. The father, James, was away in Germany at the time of the fire serving in the U.S. Army. I learned about the fire and my Dad’s help when I met Charles at the office in 1962 or shortly thereafter. ‘Chas’, as I call Charles, gave me more details of Dad’s help and it included paying some bills as well as getting them housing. So Dad’s seemingly hard heart was really susceptible to some bending.
Another incident I recall occurred at Holy Cross Cemetery on the family plot. His brother had died of alcoholism. He was found on the steps of the Gesu Church in North Philadelphia. My Dad was sure his brother was on his way out when the Lord called him home. He was given a wake in our home and laid out in our living room. He was taken then to the Holy Cross Cemetery to be buried in the family plot. As we walked behind the casket to the open grave my Dad whispered to me to move a bit to the left and stand over a small stone marker. I did so. Sometime later I inquired as to why I had been requested to do so. I learned that Dad had buried a poor gypsy in that spot and he didn’t want Mother to know about it. Thus I was assigned to cover the stone.
When Dad lived in our home we often had rather loud discussions, some might call ‘arguments’. Our voices were raised and we shared threats. But fifteen minutes later we would be talking about something else in normal voices and the matter was forgotten. My wife would exclaim she didn’t believe I would talk ‘that way’ to my father, she certainly never would think of doing so to her dad. But Dad and I had worked together and our discussions sometimes got a bit louder than usual. I remember one time when he found out that a secretary who had been with me over a year was Jewish. His life long prejudice came out and he tried to get me to fire her. I told him in so many words that I wouldn’t even think of doing so. He soon got over the problem and the young lady stayed another year before getting married.
There was a custom, when I was practicing, before the unification of the Common Pleas Courts, that you had to be formerly admitted to each of the courts. One I remember was the motion for admission to the Orphans Court which handle Estates, Will, etc. The motion had to be made to the entire court sitting just for that occasion. The Orphans Court had nine members including a President Judge. The mover for my admission was Dad. After the formal petition was offered aloud the President Judge asked if there were any objections and if not than the motion for admission was granted. I was admitted. Then began a series of comments by those sitting about my Father. All were complimentary about his practice of the law and his life.. One spoke of the work he did during World War I when he was in the National Guard. He apparently had time to help others who were in need either professionally or otherwise. When he finished the President Judge in closing, not to be outdone, said something like, “Well, I knew your Dad during the Civil War!”
Whenever I would walk with my Dad from our office building to City Hall where the courts were located, he would be constantly saying hello to passing people. He would then tell me who they were, etc. Sometimes he even took the time to stop and introduce his son. His activities in politics enabled him to meet people of all professions and business. He was a Democrat in a city, which had been run by Republicans for over 50 years. In fact he was named a candidate for some office since the few members of the party had to put up a candidate even when they knew that the chance of getting elected was out of the question. I believe I have mentioned in these writings previously about riding around City Hall. The ride was to read, on the new neon newscast flashing on the Bulletin Building, the results of the election. We had to go around a few times before the name McSorley came up and the few votes were listed.
These memories also bring regret. I would have like to have known my father when he was a young man. I find too some of the habits of his in myself. His believed that religious worship on Sundays was an obligation. I do not so believe, but it often comes into my mind on such days. He never, as long as I knew him, acknowledged any interest in sports, nor have I, except to watch grandchildren enjoying them. I recall my father watching me only once in the years of high school and college running. I do appreciate his example of disciplining oneself. I find myself trying to imitate him in that. He continued as long as I remember to read and write. He left us in a way that I hope the Lord considers doing for me, viz., quietly in his sleep.
“Grandchildren are the crown of old men; and the glory of children is their parentage” (Proverbs 17:6)
Until next time Pax Tecum!