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Author's Note - A sizable number of students that
attend colleges and universities in the United States join Greek
letter social fraternities and sororities. Putting the antics
of John Belushi in Animal House aside, what these men and women
are looking for is a place to belong with people who will be
their friends and support network. And for the most part, that's
what they find.
Certainly there
are houses that think college is all about partying, but they
are the minority. Most fraternities are about brotherhood - young
men coming together and growing together. Fraternity life is
not for everyone. No one can be lazy in a fraternity. You truly
get out of it what you put into it. If the men of the chapter
don't clean the house, keep their members in school, and pay
the bills, the chapter ceases to exist.
To increase the
number of men needed to run the chapter, an age-old procedure
is followed. The two-week Rush period is held at the beginning
of each semester, though at some schools the administration limits
it to the spring. At this time, the houses are open to young
men interested in joining the frat. A series of parties called
"smokers" and other activities ensue to illustrate
the social activities offered. It is much like a mating dance.
The chapters are interviewing potential new members, and the
chapters are being evaluated by those same targets.
Finally, the
chapter votes and bids are issued. If accepted, the new members
are pledged into the fraternity. They are not yet members. Over
the rest of the semester and into the next, the pledges are trained
in the traditions of the frat and are put to work cleaning and
caring for the house. They are encouraged to participate in the
frat's intramural teams. Each pledge is assigned a "big
brother" - a member of the chapter that acts as a counselor.
The pledge class is expected to act as a unit, for if you cannot
be a brother with your pledge mates, how can you be a brother
to everyone in the chapter?
Some houses make
the huge mistake of dabbling in hazing. Usually this starts out
as harmless, silly "games," such as the tradition of
trading swats with a paddle with your big brother. Unfortunately,
as the years go by, subsequent members may up the ante, turning
these things into "pledge olympics" where binge drinking
and painful, humiliating games are required. This does nothing
to build true brotherhood, and sometimes people are hurt. Nationally,
at least one young man dies annually from such stupidly. All
national fraternal organizations ban hazing and work hard through
education to stamp it out.
If the pledge
fulfills the requirements of academics (he must pass his first
semester), learning the frat's history and traditions, physical
work and brotherhood, they are elected by the chapter to go through
initiation into the national fraternity. This mystic and symbol-filled
ceremony is the most closely held secret of the frat, but it
is safe to say it does not involve tattoos, goats or other such
silly things. No one is harmed during this, for the simple reason
that pain does not build brotherhood. The young man is now a
life-long member of the national fraternity and is a member of
the local chapter - they are called actives.
Work does not
stop there. The new actives are expected to use their gifts to
help their brothers, the chapter, the university and the community.
Many will be called upon to assume the offices of the chapter,
such as historian, treasurer, scholarship, parliamentarian, pledge
training, housekeeping, and entertainment. The bonds built during
these years become some of the strongest these men shall ever
have, outside of their families.
Each year, many,
if not most, of the leaders of the student body come from the
fraternities and sororities. As alumni, they donate back to their
schools in disproportionate amounts. They go on to be leaders
in business and politics. And the members remain friends for
the rest of their lives.
~*~*~
Chapter 2
September, 1998
Lizzy walked down
the hall of the student center. Now that school had been up and
running for the past couple of weeks, it was time to sign up
with the VOICE.
Near the end of
the hallway she came upon a door with a paper sign taped to it.
The name "Loyola VOICE" was written in blue Marks-a-Lot
across it. She tapped on the door as she opened it.
"Hi,"
she said to the lone occupant, "I'm here to sign up. Are
you Justin?"
A shaggy-haired
male rose from the PC he had been typing on. "Yeah, I'm
Justin Middleton, editor of the VOICE. And you are…?"
"Elizabeth
Boudreaux," Lizzy said as she extended her hand. "Dr.
Jennings sent me."
"Oh, yeah,
she said somebody would be coming by." Justin shook her
hand. "Welcome aboard, Elizabeth. Welcome to the future
of journalism - the VOICE." He gestured around the
room. "What do you think?"
She didn't think
much of it. It was a small room with four computer workstations
scattered about it. Wires were going every which-way, a printer/scanner
was on one wall, a fax machine on another, and a couple of beat-up
file cabinets were next to the door. A small refrigerator was
next to the desk Justin had been using.
"It's…
different."
"Yeah - we're
completely electronic. No paper, no printing presses. Everything
is done right here - and in the server."
"Where's that?"
"In the closet.
I was just working on a story about the opposition to the Shintech
Chemical Plant. Want to see it?"
Justin sat down,
pulling another chair next to him. Once Lizzy took a seat, he
began showing her what he had written. "We do everything
in Word, and then we send it to the layout folder in the server.
Julia - you'll meet her later - Julia then cut-and-pastes the
stories in Quark and posts it on the website. It's fast and cheap
- except for the equipment and the band-width.
"We can even
do this off-site. Just write your stuff and shoot it over in
an email."
"They're doing
some of this stuff over at the Maroon."
Justin snorted.
"Yeah, but it's still stone-age. Typesetting and printing
- we've blown that off. And we're more aggressive. We don't give
a shit about what's being served at the cafeteria or what the
new parking regulations are going to be. We're about what's going
on in the world. We're trying to get the kids fired up about
changing things. Like what they're doing at the Tulane Environmental
Law Clinic, taking on those Shintech bastards."
"That's that
PVC plant that has been proposed in St. James Parish up the river?"
"Yeah. They
brought in Sierra Club, Greenpeace and others to stop that thing."
Shintech had proposed a huge chemical plant along the Mississippi
River, promising high paying jobs in the predominately poor-black
community it was targeting. The environmental movement saw this
as environmental racism, putting in a facility that would endanger
the lives of the African-Americans who lived there. The out-of-state
groups encouraged many in the area to oppose the plant, promising
millions in aid to the community. "The word's out that Shintech
may fold up its tent and leave town."
"Wow. That
would be a big win."
"Right. That's
what we want to do here."
"How many people
read the VOICE?"
Justin ran his hand
through his hair. "We're averaging about two hundred hits
a week right now, but we're planning a big email campaign to
up readership. We're still new, you know. A couple of big stories,
and we'll be set."
"The funding
is okay?"
"For the rest
of the school year - yeah. The student senate okayed our request."
Like many clubs and activities, the VOICE was funded through
the mandatory student activity fee charged every semester.
Lizzy sat back.
The VOICE, for all its claims of being cutting edge, was
still an amateur outfit. But Lizzy didn't go into journalism
to attend student senate meeting and take notes, like a glorified
court reporter. She wanted to write important stories, those
that would make a difference or right injustices. The Maroon
just wasn't doing that, she reasoned. And Dr. Jennings, the VOICE's
faculty advisor, was enthusiastic about the promise of New Journalism.
Lizzy could be at the beginning of something great. She made
up her mind.
"Okay, boss
- what's my first assignment?"
"Great. We've
got two choices: abuse by the clergy or co-ed safety in the Uptown
area. Your pick."
Lizzy frowned. A
practicing Roman Catholic from birth, she was dismayed at the
reports of sexual abuse by members of the clergy. However, she
was at a Catholic university, and she had put her faith in the
leadership of Pope John Paul II to weed out the bad apples and
set things right. Her heart just wouldn't be in pursuing such
a story.
"I'll take
the safety issue."
"Okay. I know
it's going to take a lot of research, so until you can come up
with something, you'll get a column where you can give advice
and guidelines and such. That will work for you?"
"What's my
deadline?"
"Once a week
on Wednesdays. You'll run on Fridays."
Lizzy grinned. She
was already a columnist!
~*~*~
"Hello?"
"Will, it's
your father."
"Dad! Where
are you? It sounds like you're in your car."
"I am. I'm
on the I-10 trying to get to Pemberley, so I thought I spend
the time talking to my boy. How are you?"
"I'm good,
Dad. Classes are going fine. I got re-elected to the Business
School Senate."
"That's
great, Son! Congratulations."
"Thanks. How's
the traffic?"
"Not bad
for a Friday. Just passed Causeway, it ought to ease up a bit
now."
"Any plans
for the weekend?"
"Just going
to the Destrehan High game tonight. And a little golf at Ormond
tomorrow. How about you?"
"Chris wants
me to go to the AI Rush Party tonight, but I don't know…"
"Go ahead
and go, Son. You work too hard. Take this time and enjoy yourself.
You've got the rest of your life to worry about things."
"Maybe I will,
Dad. How's Gina?"
"She's fine.
She settled right back in school. You know how she is - one moment
she's pouting that school is starting again, and the next she's
happily babbling about all of her friends and what they're wearing."
"That's our
Gina." "Your mother, God rest her soul, would be
so proud of you two."
"Thanks, Dad.
That means a lot. Anything new at work?"
"Nope. We
made up the deliveries that were delayed by Hurricane Earl. And
Tropical Storm Francis only cost us twenty-four hours at our
facility in the Houston Ship Canal. There might be another storm
in the Gulf; we'll have to wait and see."
"Any update
about Shintech?"
"You didn't
hear this from me, but my sources tell me that the company is
going to abandon the St. James site for a smaller facility near
Baton Rouge."
"Aw, crap!
That's bad news."
"I know,
Son."
"All those
jobs! Gone! Those were high-paying jobs! Even the unskilled ones.
And all that nonsense about poisoning the environment - Shintech's
won awards around the world for their environmental stewardship.
Houston's happy as a clam to have a Shintech plant there. We
should have more Shintechs in the world - make the other plants
perform like theirs."
"The Greens
don't care about that, Will. They can go back to New York, Washington
and Hollywood, put a skin on the wall and raise more money. And
there will still be no jobs for those people in St. James."
"You think
they're gonna oppose the plant upriver?"
"No. If
they're going where I think they are, it's a more affluent area.
No 'environmental racism' to claim. In other words, there's white
people there. You won't hear a word. St. James' loss will be
West Baton Rouge's gain."
"And all that
money and investment they promised those people in St. James?
Just smoke, right?"
"About as
real as Bigfoot. Ah, well, enough about that. It's a Friday in
Louisiana, it's not raining, the tropical storm went into Texas
and didn't hurt anybody, and football's on deck for tonight.
Life is good, Will. Never forget that. Laissez les le bon ton
roule!"
"Okay, Dad.
I love you. Talk to you Sunday."
"I love
you, Son. Bye."
As William hung
up the phone, Chris came out of his bedroom. "Will, are
you gonna come tonight?"
"I guess so.
Let me go clean up." William moved into his half of the
two-bedroom apartment he shared with Chris Breaux. Each bedroom
had its own small bath and Will went into his. He washed his
face in the sink and spread shaving foam on. He looked in the
mirror as the sink filled with hot water. Staring back at him
was a dark-eyed, black-haired man in his mid-twenties, six feet
two inches tall. Fastidious about his dress and appearance, he
knew women found him attractive. Some, like Chuck's sister Carrie,
were constantly plaguing him with their attentions. It was a
royal pain.
Over the sink, shaving,
William reflected over the changes in his life.
Losing his mother
at a relatively young age made William Darcy very close to his
family. Graduating with top grades from high school, Will had
received academic and baseball scholarships from universities
across the nation, but he was a home-town boy. He enrolled at
Tulane and walked-on to the Green Wave golf team. A legacy, he
was immediately pledged by Alpha Iota. His father insisted that
he not commute from Pemberley, but live on-campus in New Orleans.
He could see his beloved father and sister as often as he wished,
yet still experiencing the life of a college student.
Just as in high
school, William was Big Man on Campus at Tulane. He received
top honors in his business classes. He served for two years on
the Associated Student Congress, the student government for the
university, and he had been an officer of his fraternity chapter
since he was initiated, including two years as President.
At first, it was
fun, but as his responsibilities grew, so did the attentions
of the shallower members of the opposite sex. Tulane had its
share of husband-hunters, and they all seemed to have their caps
set on him. The novelty of having women literally throwing themselves
at him soon grew to be a bore. It also gave him a rather jaded
view of females. He didn't mind dating them, he just didn't want
to have to raise them. Always a bit more mature than his buddies,
he became a bit of a hermit in his senior year, tired of playing
the game.
Tonight will
be the same as always - girls who think they are women acting
like… well, acting immature. I'm done with fooling around.
I want to find somebody that's got a brain and character, as
well as a body. They are out there, even at Tulane, but…
how come I never seem to meet them? Hell, I sure won't tonight!
If it weren't for Chuck and Chris…
William sighed.
Of his numerous friends and acquaintances the four men he was
closest to were his father, his cousin Richard, Chris Breaux
and Charles Bingley. Chris, a pledge brother, had a similar serious
bent to his demeanor, but unlike Will he was no athlete. Instead,
he was the musician of the chapter. A superb judge of character
and a generous listener, Will found Chris to be a needed confidant.
Together they had run the chapter. Chuck, two years their junior,
was different still. Gregarious and generous, his unbreakable
moral code attracted William. It was no secret that Will groomed
Chuck to take the reins of the chapter. However, it was Chuck's
hard work and popularity that really enabled him to ascend to
the presidency the year after Will and Chris graduated.
William and Chris
were alumni of Alpha Iota. They would always be members, but
it wasn't their chapter anymore. It belonged to the undergraduates,
and they, like Dr. George Katz, were merely honored guests. George
was another good friend. He had graduated years before, but in
his role as Alumni Advisor, he and William had grown to like
each other.
"Les le
bon ton roule!" Dad had said. He's right. Suck it up and
enjoy yourself.
William splashed
hot water on his clean-shaven face. After a moment's reflection,
he used a bit of after-shave and changed his shirt. He was soon
walking out to the living room. Chris looked up from reading
the sports page.
"Ready to go,
Will?"
"Let's get
it done, partner," he said.
~*~*~
Mari and Lizzy met
Emma in the lobby of Buddig Hall. Mari and Lizzy wore their usual
jeans. Lizzy had on a cami-top and heels while Mari settled for
a t-shirt and western boots. Emma had on a Betsy Johnson dress
and heels, which drew much admiration from the others. They left
the dorm and walked along Freret Street towards Broadway. Within
moments, they were on the campus of Tulane. They passed Percival
Stern Hall, the 120,000 square foot science building shaped like
an old-styled computer punch card, and Fogelman Arena, the home
of the basketball and volleyball teams. Three blocks later, they
were on Broadway, the upriver border of the university and the
home of most of the fraternity and sorority houses. It was also
the location of The Boot, a bar well-used by Tulane and Loyola
students.
The street was filled
with students of both genders moving between the houses. The
sororities were decked out with paper streamers in their colors.
The frats were clean and welcoming. It was not long before the
trio reached the AI house.
The place was a
large, wooden, two-story building, built in an earlier era, painted
light blue with black trim. A blue flag with a black crest in
a white circle flew from a large flagpole between the house and
the sidewalk. A narrow driveway was taken up by three cars. A
porch spanned the entire length of the front of the house. The
Greek letters "AI" were on a plaque besides the open
front door. The house was lit up on this muggy, late summer's
evening, and music was heard from within. With a smile, Emma
led the girls inside.
Lizzy wasn't too
sure what to expect. She had heard about fraternities, usually
stories bandied about describing the trouble this one or that
one had gotten into. She figured she would see either a group
of loud guys in jeans and sandals sitting around a keg, or a
bunch of uptight Uptown types in blazers and striped rep ties
with button-down shirts.
What she saw was
a house full of young men and women in a large, brightly-lit
room. Couches and tables were against the walls; above them were
numerous identically framed collections of photographs. Many
of the guys were dressed in a light blue polo shirt with a crest
and black slacks. They appeared clean-cut and friendly. Before
she could take in any more, Chuck Bingley was welcoming them.
Emma was especially enthusiastic in her greeting, which brought
smiles to her two companions.
Chuck walked them
through the room, Emma taking a position by his side, pointing
out a large framed document which was the charter of the fraternity
and explaining that the other decorations were chapter photos
from years gone by. "We've got about twenty years worth
here," he said. "The rest are in storage."
"How many do
you have?" asked Lizzy.
"A bunch. The
chapter's been here for over eighty years."
Chuck introduced
the girls to several people. Many were members of the chapter
or their girlfriends. There were several potential members, shy
men with name tags on. A moment later, they were at the far side
of the room, where other two men stood. They were both tall and
dark haired, one with dark eyes, the other with blue. Neither
had on the blue polos or a name tag.
"William! Chris!
How are you?" cried Emma.
"I'm fine,
Emma," replied Will as he received a peck on the cheek.
Chris grinned. "I
need more that that, lady!" He gave her a big hug. "You're
looking wonderful - isn't she, Chuck?" Will didn't miss
the glint of mischief in his eye.
"Yeah, she
is," Chuck said with a slightly goofy smile.
"Guys, these
are my friends, Elizabeth Boudreaux and Marianne Dashwood. Mari,
Lizzy, this gorgeous man is Christopher Breaux." Chris smiled.
"And this ol' stick-in-the-mud is William Darcy. C'mon,
Will - show off those devastating dimples of yours."
"'Devastating
dimples?' I didn't know I had that effect on you, Emma."
Emma gave him a
cheeky smile. "Don't you wish." She stepped closer
to Chuck.
"Ladies,"
said Chris, "I'm very glad to meet you."
After exchanging
pleasantries, Lizzy pointed out that they weren't wearing the
polos. "Is there a penalty for being out of uniform, Chuck?"
Chuck and Chris
laughed, while Will looked at her with an amused expression.
"There is," said Chuck, "but not for these guys…"
"We're alumni,
Elizabeth," said Will. "Chris and I graduated in 1997."
"Oh! I'm sorry."
"Don't be,
Elizabeth," assured Chris. "I, for one, am glad to
be confused for an undergraduate!"
"Speak for
yourself, Chris," said Will.
"Can we get
y'all something to drink?" asked Chuck. "Soft drink
- water - we've got some punch."
Mari and Lizzy requested
diet colas. "I'll go with you to get the drinks, Chuck,"
volunteered Emma. "You two just stay here and get acquainted."
The two of them moved away, and Mari and Chris fell into conversation
about her background. Will looked on. Lizzy listened for a moment,
then allowed her eyes to roam over the chapter pictures hanging
on the wall. She noticed that they were from the last few years.
She began to look closely at them.
"Something
interests you, Elizabeth?" asked Will.
"I was looking
at the photos." She paused. "You were quite the leader
of this place."
"Yes - president
for two years."
"Is that usual?"
Chris heard her
question. "Nope. First time that's happened in ten years."
He thought for a moment. "Now that I think on it, wasn't
your dad president, too?"
"Yes."
Lizzy turned to
Will. "Your dad was a member of this fraternity?"
"Yep, I'm a
legacy."
"How you think
he got in?" laughed a newcomer, his voice giving away his
New Jersey roots. A redheaded man of medium height, he had a
pretty blonde girl on his arm.
"I knew it
was a mistake to pledge you, Tilney," said William good-naturedly.
"Why you put up with him, Cathy, I'll never know. Ladies,
let me introduce this loud-mouthed Yankee, Henry Tilney, vice-president
of the chapter, and our beautiful Chapter Sweetheart, Catherine
Moreland."
"Who has the
incredibly bad taste to date Henry!" cried Chris.
"Oh, don't
listen to them! Please call me Cathy," she said in a soft
Southern drawl. She shook the girls' hands. They were just getting
acquainted when Chuck and Emma returned with the soft drinks.
After some more
conversation, Henry tapped Chuck on the arm and pointed at the
door. "Right," Chuck mumbled. "Ah, duty calls,
folks. Time to get to work. We've got potential pledges to impress."
"Girls, why
don't y'all come with me?" Cathy smiled. "I'll introduce
y'all to everybody."
The girls agreed.
"Chuck, Will, it was nice to meet you," said Mari.
Lizzy nodded her agreement. The group moved towards the center
of the now crowded room. They split up, Chuck and Emma taking
position near the front door, greeting the guests, while the
others worked the room.
"Lizzy and
Mari," said Henry, "this is John Waguespack and Tommy
Bertram. They are a couple of our newer members, initiated last
spring."
Lizzy felt much
more at ease with these guys, as they more fit with her expectations.
Tommy was a tall, lanky, laid-back fellow whose shirt tail was
outside of his black jeans. John was not as tall, but had an
easy smile and an open manner.
"Dude,"
said Tommy, "thanks for introducing us to such awesome babes!
You are truly a gentleman an' a scholar."
"Cool it, Tom,"
said John with a smile. "Ladies, let us welcome you to Alpha
Iota house. Are you going to Tulane?" Told they were Loyola
coeds, he continued, "I must thank our dear neighbor for
enrolling you. I hope you won't be a stranger, will you, Mari?"
John was taken by the slim brunette.
Charmed, Mari chatted
with John, while Lizzy talked with Tommy. Assured the ladies
were engaged, Henry and Cathy excused themselves. A few moments
later a young man with spiky hair approached.
"Greg! You
made it, dude!" cried Tommy.
~*~*~
William and Chris,
joined by a third slightly older man, were watching from across
the room. "Another year, another smoker. Glad those days
are over, Will?" asked Chris.
"Yep. Emma's
really putting a full-court press on Chuck, isn't she?"
"Yeah, it's
kinda funny. Think Chuck realizes it yet?"
"If he doesn't
by the end of the night, I'm sure Cathy will cue him in. Emma's
a nice girl. Hope it works out better than Jennifer."
"Emma and Chuck?"
asked the third man. "Really?"
"Yeah, Doc.
Something wrong?"
"No,"
said Dr. George Katz, alumni advisor to AI. "I know her
family; my folks were close to her father and grandfather. Don't
get me wrong, Emma's a nice girl. I just never figured her for
somebody like Chuck." George, a tall man in his late twenties
whose curly hair had begun to thin in front, had just finished
his surgical residency at Tulane University Medical Center. He
had been presented with the extraordinary honor of an offer of
an instructor/practitioner, almost never offered to a new physician.
"What do you
mean?" asked Chris.
"You know how
Chuck is - real easygoing. Now, I'm not saying Emma's high-maintenance,
but…"
"Yeah,"
Chris laughed. "We'll see." He looked over at Will
to see him frowning. "Will? Something bothering you?"
"What? No.
I just noticed that Emma's friends are talking to John and Tommy."
The other two men
glanced over. Chris turned to his friend. "What is it with
you and Waguespack? You've never gotten along with him. He ever
do something to you?"
"No. It's just…
I don't know. I guess we're oil and water. But, I just can't
warm up to the guy - or Bertram either. Don't trust them."
He didn't say that if he had still been an active when John or
Tommy came through, he would have used his "black ball"
and vetoed them from pledging.
"Will,"
said George, "John and Tommy are fraternity brothers. If
you can't get along with them, just avoid them." He paused.
"Why does it bother you that those girls are talking to
them?"
William shook his
head. "It doesn't. Forget about it."
~*~*~
About an hour later,
Lizzy felt that she needed air. She looked at Mari, but she was
still engrossed in conversation with John, and Emma was on the
other side of the room, glued to Chuck's side. Lizzy smiled;
it looked as if Emma' plot to capture Chuck was succeeding..
Tommy had disappeared
with Greg Wickham, a spiky-haired blonde guy. She hadn't seen
them for the last twenty minutes. Feeling like a third wheel,
she caught Mari's eye, pointed at the front porch, and walked
out the door.
Leaning on the railing,
Lizzy drew in a deep breath of the warm, humid, night-time air.
She watched the traffic, both pedestrian and automotive, pass
by. She didn't notice a figure joining her.
"Elizabeth?
Are you all right?"
She turned to see
William Darcy looking at her. Her breath caught in her throat;
Darcy, backlit from the light from the house, appeared as a tall
dark statute of masculine perfection. She could feel his dark
eyes staring at her.
"I'm fine,
I just wanted some air."
"It does get
a little close in there," he agreed. "I was just coming
out for the same reason. Mind if I join you?"
"It's a free
county."
Will frowned. "Have
I offended you?"
Lizzy gasped. "Oh,
no. I… I'm sorry. I get a little flippant, sometimes. My
dad is always on my case about it. He says I sometimes talk before
I think."
"He's really
important to you." He moved over to the railing, a little
way from her.
"How did you
know that?"
"The way you
speak about him. I feel the same way about Dad."
She nodded, having
no response to that. She was a little disconcerted that he had
read her so easily.
"Are you having
a good time?" he asked, leaning against the railing.
"Yes. Though
not as good as Emma."
He nodded. "Chuck's
a nice guy and a good friend." They fell into silence. Lizzy
could not help considering the man next to her. He was certainly
handsome and well-spoken, that is, when he chose to speak. Yet
she was uncomfortable with him. His age, his self-assured manor,
his silence, his tendency to stare a hole through her - all this
made her feel unexpectedly inadequate. She felt she was being
weighed, judged. And that really irritated her.
For Will's part,
he tried not to think of the girl next to him. What good would
it do him to admire the way she filled her jeans, or the graceful
way she walked in her heels (a lost art among her contemporaries,
as far as the gentleman was concerned), or her quick wit, or
her expressive eyes? She was too blasted young! She was what
- four or five years younger? He wanted someone he could respect,
someone he could confide in, not a child! He wanted intelligence
and maturity, not just a great rack. And she did have a great
rack…
Needing something
to do, yet unwilling to reenter the house, Will started talking
again. "Have you always wanted to be a journalist?"
"Pardon?"
"Journalism…has
that been a dream of yours?"
Elizabeth was surprised
he remembered. "I guess so. I've always enjoyed writing.
I like to know what's going on, and I like telling stories. I
want to make a difference."
"And you can
do that through journalism?"
"You sound
as though you disagree."
"A bit. After
all, aren't reporters supposed to just tell us the facts? Who,
what, where, when and how? How is that making a difference?"
Lizzy's eyes flashed
as she defended her future career. "By bringing stories
to people's attention. Stories they need to hear. Let them know
how the other half lives."
Will smiled. "And
who picks the stories?"
Lizzy opened her
mouth to reply and stuttered. She had no answer. She glared.
"You're just one of those people who hates the press!"
William did something
unexpected - he laughed. "Now, Miss Boudreaux, if you're
going to be a journalist, you'll have to defend your position
better than that! Name-calling is a sure sign of losing."
"Great. You
were probably in the debate club."
"My high school
team went to the state finals three years in a row."
"Handsome and
modest, too," she blurted before she could catch herself.
The darkness prevented Will from seeing the blush on her face.
Will decided to
ignore the "handsome" part. He found that he was enjoying
the bantering. "It's not bragging, if it's the truth. You
asked, I answered. Look, Elizabeth, I'm not trying to put you
down. Journalism is a worthy profession. Benjamin Franklin was
one, and he was one of our Founding Fathers. I hope I didn't
hurt your feelings. I wish you good luck."
Lizzy wasn't completely
satisfied. "And what about you? Business school? Running
a corporation - how is that helping the world?"
Will shrugged. "I
don't know. Maybe providing jobs? Bringing or making goods for
people? Providing a needed service - like printing a newspaper?
Say all you want about the government - true prosperity comes
from gainful employment. That's where most people's income and
health benefits come from."
"You're right,"
she conceded, "but how do you justify CEO salaries?"
"Some aren't
justifiable. But the same can be said of what entertainers or
sport figures or network news anchors make. Where do you start?
Who makes that choice?"
Lizzy turned her
head at him. She realized he was smart - really smart. She didn't
agree with him, but he did make her think. "All right, I'll
ask you. Who should make that choice?"
"I don't trust
the government to do it. That's socialism, and you can see what
that's done to the world. It should be personal conscience, but
as we know, not everyone listens to their conscience. So in the
absence of anything else, I'd have to say the market."
"What if the
market's skewed, like oil prices?"
"That's not
the market - that's monopoly and collusion. Different from true
competition."
"And jobs going
overseas?"
William paused.
"That's hard on the people involved. Losing their jobs.
But, if everyone else can buy the same goods at a cheaper price,
who is to say that they shouldn't? What about the people in those
foreign countries? Don't they deserve the chance to support their
families? There's no easy answer to that."
"How can people
buy goods if they have no jobs?"
"That's not
quite true. I know there are jobs out there..."
"Yeah - minimum
wage jobs."
"Not really.
Did you know there's a shortage of nurses? Of engineers? Blue-collar
jobs of every kind are going unfilled. Dad tells me he could
hire twenty people tomorrow if he could find them."
"What kind
of work does your father do?"
"Delta Global
Shipping. It's an international shipping company."
"I've heard
of it. What does he do there?"
William grinned.
"Umm… he owns it."
Lizzy was stunned.
She knew a lot of the students at Tulane came from well-to-do
families, and she had assumed that Darcy had money, but she had
no idea he had that much. It didn't help her stomach that he
was finally showing those dimples Emma had referred to earlier.
If he was a nine-and-a-half before, he was an eleven now. An
eleven, at least. And super-rich. He was way out of her league.
William noticed
Lizzy reaction. "Look, it's no big deal."
"Oh! Oh, no,
no. I'm sorry for zoning out like that. I guess I'm a little
tired."
"Yeah, me too.
Do you want to sit down? Or leave? Do you want me to get Marianne
or Emma?"
"No, don't
trouble yourself."
"There you
are!" cried Chris from the doorway. "I wondered where
you got off to. Keeping our boy company, Elizabeth?"
"We were having
a conversation, yes," she said.
"Elizabeth
is tired," Will stated. "Can you get Emma and Marianne?"
"No, wait!"
Elizabeth cried. "Please don't go through all that trouble."
"It's no trouble,"
said Chris.
"They're having
fun, and I'm fine."
"Then, can
we give you a lift back to your dorm?" asked Will.
Lizzy turned to
him again in amazement. He was full of surprises. "No, that's
not necessary."
"It's not out
of our way. You live at Loyola, right?"
"Yes."
"We can pass
by your place on the way to our apartment," said Chris.
"We'd be glad to help."
"Please, you
both are very kind to offer, but I'm not ready to leave. Thank
you, though."
"All right.
You ready to go, Will?"
"Yeah."
He turned to Elizabeth. "I enjoyed our conversation, Elizabeth.
I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
"I enjoyed
it too," she was surprised to admit. "And please; I'm
Lizzy or Liz. Goodnight Will, Chris."
William smiled.
"Goodnight, Lizzy."
~*~*~
The girls left the
party about a half-hour later. Mari spent the entire walk back
to Loyola rehashing the party. She seemed to be taken by John
Waguespack. Lizzy was quiet, encouraging the others to talk.
She was still trying to decide if a certain MBA student was interesting
or not. After exchanging farewells, Emma climbed into her Black
Saab and drove back to her home in Uptown.
Within minutes,
she pulled into the two-story house off St. Charles Avenue. It
was not the home she was born in. Her father, a partner in Weinberg
& Larson, one of the more prestigious architectural firms
in New Orleans, had always wanted to restore one of the old mansions
in Uptown. Ten years ago he had finally found the right house.
He moved his family from Lakeview, and with the help of his decorator
wife, returned the house to its former glory. It was the last
thing Emma's mother ever did. Within three years of completion,
Ruth Weinberg was dead of breast cancer.
Quietly, Emma let
herself into the house. Locking the door behind her, she saw
that there was a flickering light coming from the den.
"Papa?"
"Emma,"
called out Abe Weinberg, "you're home."
Emma walked into
the den. Her father was sitting in his favorite La-Z-Boy recliner,
the room lit only by the light from the television set. "Papa,
you shouldn't wait up for me. It's late. You should be in bed."
Abe shook his head,
his eyes never leaving the TV screen. "I can't sleep when
you're out, Princess. Did you have a good time?"
Emma knelt at the
side of his chair and looked at the set. Conan O'Brian was just
finishing his show. "Yes, papa. We had a nice time. I'll
have to have Mari and Lizzy over; you'll like them." She
didn't tell him that Chuck had invited her to catch a movie Sunday
night. She would do that tomorrow.
"Irene called."
Irene was Emma's older sister. She was attending Vanderbilt University
in Nashville, TN when their mother died. A year later, she married
her gentile boyfriend and after graduation moved to the Washington
DC area. Irene now worked in the HR department of a large defense
electronics manufacturer in Maryland, while her husband was a
mid-level staffer in the State Department.
"How are she
and Tyler?"
"Good. Irene's
expecting."
"Papa, that's
wonderful! When is she due?"
"She said,
but I don't remember." He changed to the Weather Channel.
"Call her tomorrow, Emma."
"I will, Papa."
She looked at him. He was so much stronger, so much livelier
when Mama was still alive. When Irene married, his joy at his
oldest finding love was tempered by the knowledge that she had
married out of the faith and was moving a thousand miles away.
(Tyler was a mensch, but he was still a goy.) Abe
still caught the streetcar ever day to his office Downtown, but
much of his energy seemed to have been drained away. She gave
him a kiss on the side of his forehead.
"Rosh Hashanah's
coming up," Abe stated.
"Yes, Papa."
"I invited
George Katz. He's all by himself, his folks being in Fort Lauderdale
now…"
"You did? I
saw him tonight, at the AI house. It will be good to have Dr.
George here. Did you eat?" she stocked his hand.
"Yep. It was
good."
"Do you want
anything else?"
"No, Princess."
Emma stood. "I'm
going to bed now. Are you staying up?"
"Just for a
little while. Good night, Princess."
"Good night,
Papa."
As she was leaving
the room her father called out, "Emma! It looks like there's
a tropical storm in the Gulf."
"Is it coming
here?"
"We're in the
cone of probability."
"How strong
is it?"
"Minimal. We'll
know more tomorrow."
"Okay, Papa.
Keep track of it for me."
Emma went up the
stairs to her room as Abe Weinberg kept vigil before the TV set.
~*~*~
Note - The Shintech history relayed is
accurate. In 1996, the large Japanese-owned chemical company
wanted to build a PVC plant near an economically challenged,
majority African-American rural neighborhood in St. James Parish,
Louisiana. Local environmentalists, including the Tulane Environmental
Law Clinic, recruited many national organizations to oppose the
plant based upon the charge of environmental racism. Promised
millions in investment and support by these organizations, a
sizable number of locals joined the protest, though polls showed
a majority of St. James residents wanted the plant. Shintech's
industry-leading record of local involvement and EPA compliance
counted for nothing, and in the face of a well-funded legal challenge
and a misinformation campaign, the firm abandoned its plans in
1998. Instead, it built a smaller plant upriver in West Baton
Rouge Parish. Shintech's environmental record remains spotless.
The national groups did not oppose the new site, as it was in
a more affluent area. Meanwhile, the neighborhood in St. James
Parish remains disadvantaged with high unemployment, as a lack
of public transit in the poor parish means the high-paying jobs
offered by Shintech and other chemical plants are out of reach
of the residents. The millions promised by the national organizations
never materialized.
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