Studs lonigan, p.45
Studs Lonigan, page 45
“Now, fellows . . . and . . . ah . . . ladies,” he commenced.
There were a few titters and smiles. Vinc Curley let out an unexpected horse laugh. Everybody looked pityingly at him.
“We are . . . ah . . . here to form a St. Patrick’s Young People’s Society for various . . . ah . . . reasons. First and foremost, we want to . . . ah . . . get behind Father Gilhooley in his effort to raise funds for getting this parish . . . ah . . . a church, a beautiful church that will be second to none in the city and that . . . ah . . . none of us need be ashamed of. And then again, we want to . . . ah . . . establish a per manent organization. But . . . ah . . . before we do that, discuss our plans and procedures . . . ah . . . we’ll hear a few words from Father Doneggan.”
He smiled respectfully at Father Doneggan who rose, and, with swishing cassock, walked forwards. There were a few perfunctory and self-conscious claps.
“I am here to speak for Father Gilhooley, and to deliver to you his message, expressing his fondest hopes that this organization of the young people of St. Patrick’s parish will be a most gratifying success, as I know, and as he knows, that it will. He asks me to state, in his name, that he promises to cooperate with you in every way that is feasible. Now, you people all know that for years it has been the fondest dream of your pastor to give the people of this parish a church of which it can be justifiably proud. When he came to this parish in the very first year of this century, there was not even a church, and he celebrated his first mass in a store building down the street that had been kindly donated to the purposes of God by a generous parishioner. He has built this present church building, housing the church, school, and the auditorium in which we are now gathered; and he has also built the sisters’ home and the priests’ house. All of these buildings are now free of debt, thanks to his diligence, energy, and intelligent handling of church moneys. Now, he is prepared to open the drive for funds which will enable him to realize his dream, the dream of every good parishioner of St. Patrick’s. If all the parishioners support him according to their means and ability, as I am confident they will, he will continue with his present plans, and in the space of a few short years, St. Patrick’s new church, bigger than the present, one of the most beautiful houses of worship in this city, will be not merely a plan or a dream, but a living actuality. And one of the principal reasons that your pastor sponsors the formation of this proposed young people’s society is that he solicits your aid in the realization of these plans.”
Studs saw her, and Father Doneggan’s words became a distant hum of distraction. She sat quietly, confidence in her manner, keen, with blond bobbed hair. He could see that her face was thin, proud. She looked like she’d be a hard dame to make. He didn’t want just that. She would be hard to win. But there was a broad made for every guy, and she was the pattern cut out for him. He looked at her, unobtrusively, trying not to give himself away, as she sat, still, straight, wearing a green and red plaited flannel dress. He was hot for her, hotter than he’d been when he knelt beside her. He wanted the meeting to be over, so he could have her notice him, notice how people spoke to him. Hoped Fran knew her and would be talking to her, and he could just go up to Fran as if to ask her some question.
He looked back at Father Doneggan, heard him say that the organization they were forming would be a chance, also, to cement old friendships, and establish new ones, and to provide for a decent, satisfactory social life for the young people, with clean dancing and fun.
Father Doneggan was applauded at the conclusion of his talk. His face touched with redness, he sat down. Larkin arose and stood behind the table, leaning clumsily on it with closed fists.
“Now the first thing that concerns us is to get organized. I think we all agree to that,” he said dully, speaking first quickly and then pausing to hem out “ahs” as if he were struggling to catch his breath.
“And then the first task in getting organized is to elect a permanent chairman who will conduct meetings until we have our constitution with duly elected officers under it.”
Her silk-stockinged legs were crossed, showing up to the knees. She seemed bored. He acted bored, but he wished that some sort of a debate would start so he could say something and make her see he was different from Larkin and the church ushers.
“Mr. Chairman, I have one suggestion and one motion to present to the house. First, I would suggest that a temporary secretary be appointed to keep the minutes of this meeting,” Red Kelly said arising.
“That’s an excellent suggestion, Mr. Kelly,” Larkin replied.
“And I would suggest in order to save time that the chairman we elect appoint this secretary. Later on, when we have a constitution, we will elect one. Now I move that nominations for a permanent chairman be placed before the house.”
“I second Mr. Kelly’s motion,” said Austin McAuliffe.
Larkin was nominated and elected chairman, and he appointed McAuliffe as temporary secretary. A pencil and several sheets of paper were procured, and Austin took a chair at the table beside Larkin.
“Now, the next thing that we need is a constitution,” Larkin said, without omitting the “ahs.”
“Mr. Chairman, I think that it would be wise before we made any definite move about the constitution to have a little discussion so that we could be clear in the purposes and aims we wish to embody in our constitution.”
“Well, I think that we all have that in mind and know more or less what we want, but if anyone wants to say anything about it, he can have the floor.”
“You got a line like a Philadelphia lawyer,” Studs said to Red in amazement and admiration as Red sat down.
Adele Rogers, who had turned into a flapper, arose, swung her shoulders from the weight of a raccoon coat and said she thought they ought to run a dance. Larkin said of course they would, but that that would be worked out after they got the organization settled. Dick Buckford proposed a baseball team, and that likewise was tabled.
Austin McAuliffe, smiling and polite, asked for the floor, and said that if he may, he would like to say a few things.
“We know, in general, what we want in a constitution. There must be provision for the way to conduct meetings, elect officers, the payment of dues, the minimum number of meetings each month, the organization and conduct of social affairs and such things.”
“How much will we have to pay?” Vinc Curley interrupted.
Austin concluded his suggestions by proposing that there be a committee appointed to draft a constitution, and a time limit be set upon them so that they could get going. Red asked that the floor be left open for a brief period to solicit suggestions on the constitution before the chairman appointed a committee. Studs saw through Kelly, realizing that Red just wanted to shoot his mouth off. There was a debate on whether dues should be twenty-five or fifty cents a month. Studs tried to think of something to say so he could pitch right in and impress her. His mind empty of ideas, he watched her from the corner of his eye. He hoped he would be put on the committee. Finally, the committee was appointed. Red was on it, but not he. He was sorry, and yet glad, because he didn’t want to be bothering with a lot of crap, and having to meet Larkin and McAuliffe and draw up a damn constitution. But an appointment might have made her realize who Studs Lonigan was.
III
“Let’s go!” Studs said to Red, while chairs were being folded up and piled along the walls, amidst confusion and a pretentiously affected masculine show of energy. Studs wanted to hang around, but he was losing his nerve.
“Hell, Studs, there’s no hurry. And there’s a lot of nice girls here. We might as well dance.”
Martha Curley played Frivolous Sal on the out-of-tune piano. Studs watched the dancers spread over the large floor. He saw her standing alone. He took a step to go over and ask her to dance. He decided he wouldn’t be too much in a hurry. Making them wait was a good technique. He was interested only in her, dancing with her, so he acted as if he was interested in everything. He moved from spot to spot and watched Larkin waltz with Dorothy Gorman. Larkin kept almost a yard between them and acted as if he were being reckless. And Dorothy had always been plain, almost homely. Her face looked muddy. He guessed that because of her old man she had forgotten how to laugh, and only smiled in a half-interested way. He wondered if Larkin was too thick to realize that any regular guy would be laughing at him. He saw Phil Rolfe and Loretta going as if they were dancing slow-motion. The kike could dance, though, and he guessed that was what pleased young kids like Loretta. He didn’t like her dancing with the Jew, felt like telling her. But after all it wasn’t his business. He minded his business, and felt it was the place of everybody else in the family to mind theirs about him. Austin came by with Lillian Stone, taking short, choppy, graceless steps, keeping over a foot away from her. All church ushers danced alike; if a broad just danced close to them, they’d die of stage fright. Danny O’Neill whirled past him with one of the wild Dolan girls. Both of them were good dancers; it was nice to watch them. But Christ, any guy could waste his time learning how to dance.
She was still standing alone. Funnyface Duffy approached her. He got turned down. Hell, she wasn’t a wet nurse to punks. He felt as if her refusal of the goof established a bond between them. He wanted this dance to end, because he knew that he’d dance the next one with her. Red winked at him as he and Fran Reilley stepped along. Fran Reilley was a hot girl. Aggravating. Just like his own sister. Whatever you said about them, the two of them could get about anybody they wanted and wind him around their fingers like a piece of old string. And Loretta was going to be the same way. He felt proud that he had two such good-looking sisters. And they could take care of themselves too. He saw Weary’s kid sister, Jane, almost laying against that loud-mouthed Young Rocky, who turned frequently, and placed his thigh between her legs with each turn.
After the dance Red said:
“It’s hell dancing with a broad as tantalizing as Fran Reilley. She knows she’s got everything and it just teases your pants off. She eggs you into thinking you can get away with murder, and then pulls herself away and goes right on talking as if she didn’t even think of what she was doing. Then she starts it all over again. Christ, Studs, she drives you into utter misery.”
“Yep, Red, she’s luscious.”
“The guy who gets her is getting his jack’s worth. Only nobody will do it without the ring. She knows how to play her game,” Red said, half in tribute.
“Hello, fellows,” Larkin said, offering a limp, sweaty hand that made Studs feel as if he was grasping a chunk of contaminated meat. He greeted Larkin with condescension.
“Gee, I’m glad you came, because we all want to get behind Father Gilhooley in the drive to raise funds for the new church.”
Studs and Red gave each other the wink.
“Studs, how’s it going?”
“Nothing to complain about,” Studs replied disinterestedly.
“Well, I hope that now we’ll be seeing a lot of you, and Kelly, too.”
“That goddamn fat slob,” Studs sneered, as Larkin walked away.
Another dance started. Studs hesitated about asking her. Fran came up to him and demanded that he dance with her. He saw that she was with a sappy-looking guy he didn’t know. The bird was taller than he, but he’d take him on. He saw himself meeting the guy out on the street, asking him, Are you tough? and letting him have something he wouldn’t forget very easy. He danced a bit woodenly, and Fran made it worse, because she kept leading him. She made a dirty crack about Fran Reilley. Studs guessed good-looking broads were that way about other broads. After the dance, she told him he wouldn’t be a bad dancer at all, if he got more practice. She went off to join Fran Reilley and some other girls. He looked around until he saw the girl walking towards the other wall with the sappy-looking egg. He felt she’d notice him if he kept looking at her, and he might seem like a goof. He watched Austin join the group around his sister, Fran. Austin talked. He heard them laugh. What the hell could they see to laugh at in anything Austin said?
“Hello, Studs! Say, I’m glad to see you, just like old times,” Johnny O’Brien said, smiling, shooting his arm up as if a button had been pressed, and giving Studs the collegiate handshake. Studs remembered that Johnny had been a fat, husky kid. Now he was thin, pale, a bit lifeless. Johnny asked him what he was doing. Studs told him.
“I’m over at the U. Belong to Kappa Psi now. Come on over some time, and I’ll introduce you to the boys. Fine bunch of brothers, they are.”
“Say, I hear they’re anti-Catholic at the University. First thing you know, you’ll be losing your religion,” Studs said, kidding to make talk; he saw that the sappy-looking guy was walking away.
“Well, some of the professors are. You know, they believe in evolution and teach it in their classes, and say things against the church, but, of course, that doesn’t affect me. And the fellows in my frat, say, Studs, they’re all swell fellows. I’d like to have you meet them.”
“You’re all dressed up like Joe College,” Studs said, letting his glance wander. She was dancing with Larkin, smiling at something the mush-face said. Somebody ought to take a picture of the guy. Johnny continued speaking.
“Now, you take this suit. As I said, it’s new, first time I wore it. Had it made to order at Jerrems, seventy-five bucks. That’s the way I believe in getting clothes, if you want to be really well-dressed. Pay for them and get clothes that fit properly and make you look distinguished. You can always tell what kind of a guy a fellow is, and how he rates, from the clothes he wears. A lot of guys you know have enough suits to change every day in the week, and they pay nothing for them. You can’t take them out in the rain. Not me, I’d rather have a few suits, but good ones like this one I’m wearing.”
Johnny excused himself and shambled over to Big Nodalsky. Studs watched him give the college handshake, and thought what a heel O’Brien had turned into. He wondered if Lucy would hear about the society here, and come out to a meeting. He could see the other girl, himself with her, dancing, everybody taking it for granted that he and she were going together, and Lucy seeing it. Himself treating Lucy with cold formality. He’d dance with her once or twice, and talk about general things. That would be all. See how she’d like it. He wondered what her name was. He could find out from Larkin. He knew he wouldn’t ask that mush-face. She was dancing with Austin, and they seemed to be getting along all right. An old, not-belonging feeling came upon him. He felt like going. He felt that it was just nerve, expecting to make the grade with her. Let her go. If Austin and Larkin were her speed, well, she wasn’t his kind. He’d go. He watched them dance. He accidentally caught the eye of Martha Curley and she smiled. He turned towards the piano and saw that Dorothy Gorman was playing.
“Don’t you dance?” asked Phil.
“Why?” Studs asked, snottily.
“I just noticed that you hadn’t been dancing. I wondered because I heard you were a pretty good dancer.”
Studs guessed it must have been Loretta. They must have talked about him. He wondered what Loretta really thought of him. He didn’t really know her. He looked at her on the floor, young, pretty, lively. She had grown that way, into a pretty girl, without his even realizing it, as if one day she was just a kid, and then the next, she was the kind of girl he saw dancing.
“I suppose you’re selling dancing shoes,” Studs told Phil.
“Studs, I’ll bet the hebe is the kind that takes St. Patrick’s day off,” Red said, joining Studs.
“And Jewish Easter too,” Studs added.
Phil went off to dance. Studs saw that she was again alone. He ambled slowly towards her, hoping no one would spot him, because he became suddenly as shy and speechless as a boy. With a forced effort of courage, he asked her if she’d like to dance. She thanked him but said that she was very tired. He walked away, sore. He tried to whistle. He felt he had to do something. He motioned to Martha Curley. She came towards him. They danced. Martha had used to be a nice girl, and full of life. She seemed tired and faded, and she was only about a year older than he. Girls had to grab their husbands off quick, he guessed. Martha said well, well, and they asked how each other was. She said she hadn’t seen Studs in quite a long time. Studs said he hadn’t seen much of her either. She guessed they must attend different masses on Sunday. He asked her if she was working. She said no, she was just a home girl. He danced past the girl; she was dancing with Young Rocky. He couldn’t miss seeing how close their bodies were pressed against one another.
After the dance, he told Red he was going. Red was unable to persuade him to stick around. Walking along Indiana Avenue, he thought that if he had danced with her, she might have remembered him, remembered that she’d smiled at him at mass. If maybe she’d gotten a good look at him, she’d have remembered. But he never could have told her all that he’d thought of her since then. But maybe, maybe, if he had danced with her and things had gone right, maybe he might have, at that. He would maybe have said something like:
I never thought I’d find you here!
No, well, you never know what you can expect, she might have answered.
You’re more than I could hope to expect at a place like this, he might have added.
They would have talked, told their names, laughed at jokes he would have been able to think up, and he would have walked home with her. At her door, he would have said, how about a show tomorrow night, and tomorrow he’d be taking her to a show. And they would, yes, go together. What the hell did he care if the gang would try and kid him. He wasn’t just a hood, and just going to turn into another Barney Kelly, or Mickey Flannagan.
It was all a goddamn pipe-dream. He was just filling himself full of the stuff. Only if the thing had turned out different! He’d missed his chance. He thought of her in her green and red dress, and her cold aloof face and expression. Haughty jane. And he wanted her. He thought of going with her until finally she’d say yes and no one would be home, and he’d kiss her, and they’d. . . . All a goddamn pipe-dream!
