The Senator and the Priest - Hardcover

Greeley, Andrew M.

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0765315912 ISBN 13: 9780765315915

Publisher: Forge Books, 2006

Synopsis

One of America's most beloved storytellers, Father Andrew Greeley returns with an explosive novel about the corrosive political culture tearing apart America--and one man's family.
Tommy Moran, an Irish Catholic kid from the West Side of Chicago, fights for the underprivileged on the floor of the United States Senate. Swearing off negative attack ads, Moran is determined to restore civility and compassion to American politics. But his opponents don't share his scruples. Almost from the beginning, Tommy and his family find themselves besieged by vicious personal attacks, false rumors . . . and attempts at assassination!
As a freshman senator, Tommy must also cope with the temptations--both political and carnal--regularly thrown his way. The job takes its toll on him, but at least he has the support and love of his devoted wife, a daughter of Chicago's raucous O'Malley family.
But the opposition that hits home the hardest comes from an unlikely source: his own brother.
Father Tony Moran, a conservative Catholic priest, has never approved of Tommy's senatorial career, much to Tommy's dismay. So when Father Tony sides with Tommy's political enemies, it may be more than one man can bear.
Can anything heal the rift between…the Senator and the Priest?

About this title

About the Author

Priest, sociologist, author and journalist, Father Andrew M. Greeley built an international assemblage of devout fans over a career spanning five decades. His books include the Bishop Blackie Ryan novels, including The Archbishop in Andalusia, the Nuala Anne McGrail novels, including Irish Tweed, and The Cardinal Virtues. He was the author of over 50 best-selling novels and more than 100 works of non-fiction, and his writing has been translated into 12 languages.

Father Greeley was a Professor of Sociology at the University of Arizona and a Research Associate with the National Opinion Research Center (NORC) at the University of Chicago. In addition to scholarly studies and popular fiction, for many years he penned a weekly column appearing in the Chicago Sun-Times and other newspapers. He was also a frequent contributor to The New York Times, the National Catholic Reporter, America and Commonweal, and was interviewed regularly on national radio and television. He authored hundreds of articles on sociological topics, ranging from school desegregation to elder sex to politics and the environment.

Throughout his priesthood, Father Greeley unflinchingly urged his beloved Church to become more responsive to evolving concerns of Catholics everywhere. His clear writing style, consistent themes and celebrity stature made him a leading spokesperson for generations of Catholics. He chronicled his service to the Church in two autobiographies, Confessions of a Parish Priest and Furthermore!

In 1986, Father Greeley established a $1 million Catholic Inner-City School Fund, providing scholarships and financial support to schools in the Chicago Archdiocese with a minority student body of more than 50 percent. In 1984, he contributed a $1 million endowment to establish a chair in Roman Catholic Studies at the University of Chicago. He also funded an annual lecture series, “The Church in Society,” at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, Mundelein, Illinois, from which he received his S.T.L. in 1954.

Father Greeley received many honors and awards, including honorary degrees from the National University of Ireland at Galway, the University of Arizona and Bard College. A Chicago native, he earned his M.A. in 1961 and his Ph.D. in 1962 from the University of Chicago.

Father Greeley was a penetrating student of popular culture, deeply engaged with the world around him, and a lifelong Chicago sports fan, cheering for the Bulls, Bears and the Cubs. Born in 1928, he died in May 2013 at the age of 85.

Reviews

Prolific author and priest Greeley (Irish Crystal) stumbles with this story of a liberal Catholic senator from Illinois who bursts onto the national political stage. Thomas Patrick Moran first attracts attention when he announces his candidacy for a state assembly seat, vowing never to run anything negative about his opponent or ask anyone for a contribution. After his crusade catches fire, the local Democratic machine enlists him to run for the Senate. That successful campaign is marked by numerous attempts on his life that are foiled, in a silly and unnecessary subplot, by his youngest daughter's psychic premonitions of danger. While Moran debates some serious political and moral issues with his conservative priest brother, Tony, Greeley's hagiographic portrait of Moran, complete with details of his sex life with his stunning wife, leaves no doubt where the author's sympathies lie. Even longtime fans may be disappointed. (Nov.)
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Senator and the Priest

CHAPTER 1

"YOU REALLY shouldn't be here, you know," my brother Tony jabbed a finger at me. "You have no business playing with the big kids. Never did. You shouldn't run again."

His tone was jocular, as it always is when he's reproving me, big brother laughing at silly little brother, now the big brother priest reproving the little brother who was pretending that he was a United States Senator.

We were glancing at our menus in the Capitol Grill, a hangout for Republican Senators and lobbyists. I did not want to bring Tony into the Senate Dining Room where my colleagues could hear us argue. Besides, he would want a drink before lunch.

My brother had put on weight. He wasn't obese yet, but in a few more years he might be. The tall, solid body which had served him well in his three sports career at Fenwick high school was deteriorating and the shock of long blond hair which the young women from Trinity had worshiped was thinning. He needed to see a dentist. Several times he drummed his fingers on the table. My brother was too busy with the work of the Lord to take care of himself.

"Vodka martini on the rocks," he told the pretty young waitress with his best smile. With everyone else besides me he was charming. With me he was edgy, almost driven.

"What about you, Tommy?"

The pretense was that he was the host, though I would pick up the bill.

"Iced tea."

"Mary take the creature away from you?" he asked, hinting as he always did that my wife ran my life.

"She likes to be called by her full name ... . I have work to do this afternoon. I would never come on the floor of the senate with the smell of booze on me."

My wife and my adored older brother never got along. Besides, I had learned that two drinks at lunch took the tension out of my life and made me vulnerable.

"I bet a lot of the big guys have a couple of drinks after lunch."

Always the big guys.

"That's their problem."

I felt my body tighten. I was falling apart. Every day I woke up tense. Every night I collapsed into bed tense. There were only a few moments in my office in the early morning when I could feel that I was not being torn apart, a Roman criminal tugged in four directions by wild horses. I didn't need Tony hassling me after the morning committee hearing and before a difficult afternoon session. The Senate had crushed all the joy and laughter out of my life.

"You haven't done much here, Tommy," he sipped his martini as though it was a forbidden love. "Created a lot of controversy that's all."

Why was I always thinking these days in images of forbidden love?

"We got some good legislation through," I defended myself. I had always defended myself with Tony. "Pensions, immigration, veterans."

He ordered a sixteen-ounce steak, rare. I settled for a bowl of chowder and a house salad with vinegar and oil dressing.

"Mary really has you on a short leash, doesn't she?"

It was pointless to defend my wife. He had advised me not to marry her and he was always right in the advice he gave me.

"Mary Margaret," I said automatically.

"Are you two attending Mass regularly?" he demanded, as he continued to sip his drink.

"What makes you think we're not?"

"You should think of the kids. They need your good example."

"They give us good example," I said, truthfully enough.

Before we had left the Dirksen Senate Office Building--a place which often reminds me of the Queen of Heaven Mausoleum in Hillcrest, just west of Chicago--to walk over to the restaurant I had, at his insistence, shown him my office. He had frowned as we walked by the receptionist and through the bullpen where letter openers, stenographers, writers, advisers, legislative assistants, press representatives, researchers, schedulers, interns, volunteers, and other staff functionaries were working, a scene which always reminded me of the old films about sweatshops in the garment industry. When we had entered the two small cells where Chris Taliferro, my Chief of Staff, and Manny Rodriguez, Deputy Chief of Staff and Senior Press Liaison, were working, he barely acknowledged my introduction of these lovely, exotic, and indispensable women.

In my own much more luxurious office there was a big desk, wood wall paneling with the great seal of the Senate and the State of Illinois, color photos of my family, a comfortable chair and even a couch--with a splendid view of the Capitol itself beyond the big windows. On this early summer day the crystalline dome seemed almost unreal against the clear blue sky, a postcard picture or perhaps a background for a Hollywood set.

"John," I had gestured towards the only bathroom in the office.

He had ignored me. Real men don't need to urinate.

"Why the hell do you need all those people out there?" he nodded impatiently towards the outer office.

I sat in my judicial chair, though I was not the judge at the moment but the defendant.

"The Federal system does not have precinct captains or ward committeemen to whom the people can appeal," I said with a sigh, "so they appeal to their elected representatives for relief. Much of the work out there is responding to such appeals, opening the letters or the e-mail, contacting the offending agency, passing the tough cases on to me, responding to the people."

"Most of the complaints must be silly," he had dismissed my explanation.

"Some are, some aren't. The federal government can be mindlessly oppressive. We are generally successful where theconstituents have a valid complaint ... . Some of my staff are researchers. We have a vote this afternoon on the Pension Protection Bill jointly sponsored by Senator Bartlett McCoy of Kentucky and myself. We have to be very careful about writing proposed legislation. I have three assistants who deal with the press and schedule my day, a very bright intern from Georgetown law who is drafting legislation on property rights."

He waved my explanation off as, hands shoved into his jacket pocket, he strode back and forth across the office.

"This is all a big, silly game, isn't it, Tommy?"

"The people in Connecticut who had their homes condemned for a shopping mall and the airline workers who had their pensions wiped out in a bankruptcy hearing might not think so."

He sank into the couch, exasperated with my game.

"Who pays these people?"

"The Senate allots a budget to every Senator for staff. I pay the interns myself."

"A living wage?" he had demanded.

"Most of my colleagues know how much they depend on their staff. Even the Republicans don't stint on staff salaries."

"Most of them are women, aren't they? And they fawn all over you, don't they? I saw the way they smiled when you walked through the office. You're not turning into a Bill Clinton, are you?"

"I'm too busy to notice," I had said.

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?

"Let's go eat," I had risen from my desk. "I have to be back for the session this afternoon when we're going to try to pass the Pension Protection Act."

He had continued his cross-examination as we walked down the marble corridors and out into the bright sunlight. My brother had winced every time I greeted someone, senator or staffer or guard, by their first name.

"So what kind of hours do you keep around here?" he asked.

"The Senate is technically in session on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The various committees have their meetings in the morning and the full sessions begin at two every afternoon, more or less. Nothing much ever happens on Monday, though a few senators use the day for long speechesto which no one listens. Some of the committees meet on Monday and Friday too. The formal sessions on Tuesday and Wednesday usually end by seven, sometimes earlier. Today, Thursday, is the big day when we debate and vote on legislation. Those sessions can go on to midnight, which makes it difficult for my colleagues to catch the early plane on Friday morning."

"You mean you only work three days a week."

"Most of what we do doesn't happen on the Senate floor. Many Senators commute back and forth to their families and their constituencies where they spend a lot of time mending fences and raising money. Some of them spend their nights here in the Beltway with other senators in two-room apartments. We elected to make Washington home. Keep the family together. Maybe once a month I fly to Chicago to give a lecture."

I got no points for keeping the family together.

I wished to hell he'd leave me alone.

"It sounds like a pretty easy job, unless you're one of the big boys. And they say you're cute little Tommy Moran, the Tom Cruise of the United States Senate."

"Only if you believe the lies Leander Schlenk publishes in the Examiner."

"He's an old hand in this city. He knows what really happens here."

F. Leander Schlenk was the "veteran capital correspondent" of the Examiner whose column "Under the Dome" was Holy Scripture to many Chicagoans, just as Mike Royko's words had been a long time ago.

"He's never mentioned that I'm the assistant minority whip and serve on three important committees: Banking, Judiciary, and Armed Services."

I had fallen into the trap I usually fall into with my brother Anthony. I was trying to defend myself.

"Tommy, Tommy!" He sighed loudly and his shoulders dropped in dejection. "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't know anything about those subjects. You don't belong here. Do you really think you are an expert on the armed services? You can't be that dumb."

"I'm the senior Democrat on the subcommittee on the serviceacademies," I snapped back. "We're investigating the abuse of w...

Edition details

• Publisher: Forge Books
• Publication date: 2006
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0765315912
• ISBN 13: 9780765315915
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 336