The Green Revolution by Ralph McInerny Read Free Book Online

you’re going to work?”
    On her feet now, she took a playful swing at Armitage Shanks. “Your place or mine, Romeo?”
    Shanks sighed. “ O la vie est triste, trop triste, incurablement triste, n’est-ce pas? ”
    â€œYou got me.”
    â€œWould that I had, my dear.”
    This swing was less playful.
    â€œAnother round?”
    â€œSplendid idea.”
    Those facing in the right direction had the pleasure of observing Debbie’s rhythmic walk as she left them.

7
    Some are born journalists, some become journalists, others have journalism thrust upon them. Thus it was that Bartholomew Hanlon considered his election to the editorship of Advocata Nostra , one of several alternative student papers that offered relief from the Observer whose pages were filled with wire service stories, a good sports section, and editorials that seem to have been mailed in from elsewhere. He was in his senior year and had loaded up on courses he had not had room for in previous years, but his love was the classics, particularly Latin. That love was fed by a deeper love for the Latin liturgy. With others, he cajoled priests into offering the traditional Latin Mass in one of the hall chapels. They had formed a small schola cantorum to accompany the Mass with Gregorian chant. Bartholomew carried in his briefcase the appropriate volume of the Liturgia Horarum and read the office of the day. It seemed a way of testing if he had a vocation.
    â€œEveryone has a vocation,” Baxter said, lifting most of his chins.
    â€œThen the race will die out.”
    â€œâ€™Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. No, I don’t mean that. No more apocalyptic phrases. Hope springs eternal.”
    â€œ Spe salvi facti sumus. ”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThe title of the new encyclical.”
    â€œAnother? I haven’t caught up on John Paul II yet.”
    â€œThere’s your vocation.”
    Baxter should be editor, Hanlon thought, but Baxter, an associate editor, had made the mistake of campaigning for the job. Thus Hanlon, who hadn’t been at the meeting, had been voted in on the basis of the thwarted hopes of another. No matter. Baxter continued to be a constant presence in the editorial offices, and he had a sassy style that made for compelling reading. He said so himself. It was Baxter who had written up the Weeping Willow Society. Now they were following up on the question of Catholics on the faculty. And how better than by interviewing professors?
    â€œDo we call them first?”
    Baxter gave a jowly shake of his head. “No, no. We surprise them in their lairs. Like reporters on the street stopping passersby. Or is it passerbys?”
    Off Bartholomew had gone to Decio, the office building that accommodated most of the Arts and Letters faculty. He had decided to start with Rimini, a frequent contributor of angry letters to the Observer . His principal target was critics of what was happening on campus who appealed to a supposedly saner and better time. Rimini knew better. It was hell in those days. He had been here. Believe me, he urged, things are infinitely better now.
    Rimini was bald with large staring eyes. Crouched over his desk, he looked at Walsh over the tops of his glasses.
    â€œProfessor Rimini?”
    Rimini tucked in his chin. His name was prominently displayed beside his open door.
    â€œI’m from Advocata Nostra .”
    â€œWhat is that?”
    â€œA student newspaper.”
    â€œThe student newspaper is the Observer .”
    â€œThere are several alternative student papers now.” He smiled. “In the interests of diversity.”
    â€œWhat do you call yours?”
    â€œ Advocata Nostra . Our Advocate.”
    â€œYou in the law school?”
    â€œI’m a senior.”
    â€œWhat do you call your paper again?”
    â€œ Advocata Nostra .”
    â€œWhere’s that from?”
    â€œThe Salve Regina