“It was the first that Richard had ever known about his technical status in the Church. He didn’t even know what illegitimacy meant.
“It was a fantastic shock to Richard. All he wanted in life was to be a priest. Now he was given to believe he would never have a chance. Not through anything he had done or was responsible for, but because of something his parents had done.
“Well, it just tore him to shreds. All of a sudden, he understood why, although his parents went to Mass with him every week without fail, they never went to Communion. At first, he had been too embarrassed to ask them why they didn’t receive Communion. Then when he got nerve enough to ask, their answer was very vague. So he hadn’t asked again. And he tried to stop wondering.
“Then, all at once, when he was just thirteen, at what should have been one of the happiest moments of his life—being accepted as a student for the priesthood—he learns the whole truth. Can you imagine what that did to him?”
“I sure can.” Koesler found himself emotionally wounded right along with the young Richard Kramer. “But what happened? Something must have happened. I can remember Dick as a freshman in the seminary. Mostly I can remember how damn hard he worked.”
“Intervention, that’s what happened. His pastor went to bat for him. Old Father Lotito.”
“I remember him.”
“Well, he was Dick’s pastor. And he knew what a grand priest Dick would make. So Father Lotito, as soon as he heard what they’d done to Dick, got right over to the seminary. Raised holy hell with them.” He smiled. “You could do that in those days only if you were quite fearless. And Father Lotito was certainly that.
“So they made an exception for Dick and accepted him. That’s why your recollection of Dick’s being in the freshman class at Sacred Heart is correct. But it was also flawed. They let him into the seminary but, I fear the damage was done.”
“The poor guy. The poor kid! What a thing to happen to a young boy. Sometimes, I swear, the Church can have a heart as cold as stone.”
“Anyway, that’s my theory of why Dick Kramer works so exceptionally hard. Once I had occasion to talk to his parents—they’re both gone now, you know. They said that he was never like that when he was growing up. He used to play and even, every once in a while, get into minor scrapes—nothing serious—just like any other youngster. But he changed at exactly the time he entered the seminary. And Father Lotito said the same.
“What happened, I think, is that being turned down by the seminary made him feel like a second-class student. So he set about to prove that he was not only as good as anybody else, but that he was better than he needed to be.
“So, his life, since the day he discovered his illegitimacy and was admitted to the seminary only by way of exception, has been filled with competitiveness. Mostly he’s been competing with himself to prove that he was good enough to be a seminarian. Good enough to be a priest.
“And that’s the way it went, Bobby. When Dick got to the end of his studies in theology and was about to be ordained, the seminary authorities had to petition Rome for the necessary dispensation. It was the final indignity for Richard.
“That’s why, you see, so much depends on getting him free and clear of this ridiculous charge against him. His self-concept isn’t all that strong to begin with. Can you imagine what this is doing to him as he finds himself locked up in a jail with criminals? Treated like a criminal himself?
“That’s why we’ve got to do everything we can to clear his name and get him out of there just as soon as possible. That’s why we’re counting on you to help . . . from the inside, as it were.”
As Monsignor Meehan concluded his story, Koesler felt an increased and intensified sense of urgency. Up to this moment, he had been devoting practically 100 percent of every possible moment to clearing Kramer of the charges against him. But what was it they said in sports: From now on, he would give 110 percent.
During his drive home, Koesler reflected that for the first time in memory, he and Meehan had visited without telling each other a single anecdote. That seemed to emphasize the gravity of Kramer’s plight.
When, finally, he returned to his rectory, he looked it up. Sure enough, in the current Code of Canon Law, A.D. 1983, there was no mention of illegitimacy as an impediment to ordination. But in the old Code, A.D. 1917, there it was: Canon 984 noted that among the “irregularities” prohibiting ordination was illegitimacy, unless one were subsequently legitimized.
There was no doubt about it: Sometimes the Church had a heart of stone.
32
It had been a very good day. Sundays, particularly Sundays that he didn’t have to work, were Tully’s favorites.
This day had begun with the relatively recent routine with which he was becoming very comfortable. He had wakened, retrieved the papers, started coffee and breakfast. Later, Alice joined him, rubbing sleep from her eyes and shuffling around the kitchen in soft, warm slippers.
They ate a leisurely breakfast, wading through the papers, reading aloud items from stories or columns that particularly interested them, conversing about implications.
Afterward, Tully lit the fireplace in the living room where, to a background of Ed Ames and Sinatra records, they made love.
It was well after noon before they began the process of considering what to do with the rest of the day. It was a testament to Alice’s persuasive powers that she talked him into going down to the ice-skating rink in Hart Plaza adjacent to the Renaissance Center. It was an outdoor rink and Tully liked neither the out-of-doors during winter nor ice-skating. Alice, on the other hand, was an excellent skater and loved the brisk beauty of a rigorous winter.
Skating—or in Tully’s case, slipping, sliding, and falling—was followed by a relaxed dinner at Carl’s Chop House, one of downtown’s few quality restaurants open on Sundays.
Now they were on their way home. Tully decided to skip life in the fast lane of the freeway in favor of laid- back Livernois—once far more appealing than it had become.
“You’re a good sport, Zoo.” Alice had abandoned the passenger seat to cuddle against Tully, her head resting firmly on his shoulder.
“If I was such a good sport, I wouldn’t have been cleaning off the ice all afternoon.”
“So you’re not one of the Red Wings. You try.”
“Actually, it’s easier with both ankles flat on the ice . . . more like roller skating that way.”
She chuckled. “I meant you are a good sport for humoring me in the first place. I know you’re not nuts about the cold. And there’s no place in town colder than where the wind whips right off the river.”
“Don’t remind me. This afternoon you almost saw a black guy turn into a white guy . . . come to think of it, that way I might be more acceptable to your Nordic parents.”
“Stop worrying about my Nordic parents. I am no longer subject to their approval. This isn’t
“Al, you’ve been watching too many Edward G. Robinson movies. It’s a gun. It’s okay to call it a gun. And I don’t pack it; I wear it.”
“Whatever.”
“Feelin’ pretty high, aren’tcha?”
She smiled and snuggled closer. “Yeah.”
“And with good reason. You saved that kid just about single-handed. What was his name again?”
“M’Zulu.”
“I don’t know how you keep those African names straight.” It was Tully’s turn to smile.
His sally sailed right over her head. “Actually, I didn’t come to his rescue; Kronk Recreation did.”
“You know about Kronk Recreation? Until now, I figured you thought Everlast was an eternal reward in the hereafter!”
“Actually, somebody told me about Kronk and I took the kid there. It was kind of an accident. But it made sense, don’t you think? I mean, the kid was fighting all the time anyway—sort of nonprofessionally. The trouble was, he was winning all the time. Police very seldom run in the losers.”
“They’ve suffered enough.”
