Memorial Bridge by James Carroll Read Free Book Online Page A

like it, but if you answer all the questions correctly, he won't have a move against you, will he?" Father Ferrick smiled suddenly. "And after the bar, what?"
    Dillon shrugged. "I have six years in at Swift's. That should give me a shot at a job in their law department."
    "Why not a law firm?"
    Dillon looked quizzically at the dean. They both knew that the law
firms, after a decade of steadily laying off their own lawyers, weren't hiring new graduates even out of the prestigious law schools, certainly not out of Loyola.
    The Jesuit said quietly, "I have a contact at Lambert, Rowe..."
    Dillon waited. Lambert, Rowe was one of the top State Street outfits.
    "I could get you an interview." Loyola was at the point where it had to start placing graduates with better firms or accept permanent consignment to the ranks of the fly-by-night law schools that trained ambulance chasers, JPs and pols. Dillon was the best prospect Father Ferrick had seen in a long time. He turned his hand over, brandishing his palm. "The rest you'd have to do for yourself."
    Dillon laughed with surprise. "One minute, Father, you're flunking me. The next minute—"
    "The next minute I'm seeing in you a good example of what we try to do here. Is Swift's really what you want?"
    "No."
    "You'd have a little extra ... work ... to do if you wanted a real shot at Lambert, Rowe."
    "What do you mean?"
    "That you don't go into a State Street law office whistling 'The Bells of Saint Mary's.'"
    "It's not a tune of mine, Father."
    "Your first name is Sean. Jack Benny's real name is Benjamin Ku-belsky. Did you know that?"
    Dillon cursed himself for being unable to think what to say. Perhaps he lowered his eyes out of a sort of despair, but they fell upon the desk nameplate. "And yours is Aloysius."
    "That's right. But if I wanted what you want, it would be Allen."
    Dillon saw it then. "But you do. You just want it for Loyola, that's all." Dillon laughed at himself for thinking this priest was out for
him,
for thinking his reprieve could come without a price.
    Father Ferrick leaned across the desk. "There's a bit too much of the harp, lad, in the likes of us."
    "I don't lead with my Irishness, Father. But I don't disavow it either."
    Ferrick opened his hands. "As you wish. I was only interested in your seeing the thing for a minute the way the managing partner at Lambert, Rowe would see it. He'd never be so crude, of course, as to display discomfort at a candidate's overly ethnic name. Only a fellow Mick on
the make would raise the issue." He grinned. "Let's say I considered it my job."
    "And the managing partner's job is to make sure the firm's first Irish Catholic doesn't seem like one."
    The priest nodded. "
John
Dillon has just the right ring to it."
    "And after I changed my name, you were going to send me down to Moss Brothers Outfitters for a new suit."
    "I was going to lend you the money."
    "Is it so important to you, Father?"
    "You're a young man, Sean. When you get to be my age you'll have grown weary, I'll wager, of the border turf they leave to us."
    "When I'm your age, Father, I'll be in the middle of the field, and I'll be there as myself." Sean knew that to any other priest such a statement would have seemed like rank arrogance: Who do you think you are? "I'm Sean Dillon, Father."
    "And you live in Canaryville."
    Dillon laughed. "Where no one raises the question of my name. It's one advantage of working for a fellow named Gustavus."
    "Swift would be lucky to get you for a lawyer. I want you to think about what I'm offering you. But your given name is an obstacle. I'm serious about your changing it. If you want out of the cramped, unpromising world you were born to—it's either that or go back and finish up your studies for the priesthood and get sent to Rome." Father Ferrick leaned back in his chair. "Or stay in Canaryville, Sean, with the sparrows."
    Dillon eyed the priest steadily, aware that he was not only "offering" something, as he claimed, but