Free Echoes in the Darkness by Joseph Wambaugh Page A

Sicilian, though he wasn't. He was softspoken, unassertive, and was a very introspective young fellow. His parents were Greek-American and proud to have forebears in the country that had produced Socrates, Plato, Aristotle. His father was an assertive, self-taught house builder with clever hands and a perfectionists temperament. Chris spent his life trying and failing, or so he perceived his fatherson relationship.
    He'd been a student at Upper Merion, and along with his brother had wrestled on the team that Bill Bradfield helped to coach. When he graduated from high school in 1968 he was an unhappy lad, insecure, plagued with self-doubts. He was good with his hands but would never be as good as his father, and more than clever hands was expected from him.
    His grades and test scores were too low for the local colleges and universities, but Chris heard that Kansas State University wasn't so competitive. He applied, got accepted, and in his words "went to college just to be going." He majored in olitical science because he had to major in something. His rst year was disastrous, but in his second he took a course in philosophy. At first it had to do simply with being Greek, but soon it changed his life. He stayed at Kansas State for five years, and probably owed his degree to classes in philosophy.
    "Philosophical ideas had an impact on me," he said. "At last I realized that it was possible to figure things out."
    As long as he could remember, he'd seen himself a$ a disappointment to his father. He'd been a very slow reader all his life and believed himself to be slow in every way. His grasp of philosophical concepts started to persuade him that perhaps he wasn't totally inadequate, but he was by no means a confident young man even after he graduated and returned to visit old friends and teachers at Upper Merion.
    He began driving a school bus for the township, and was still looking for direction when Bill Bradfield urged that he enter Cabrini College and work toward a teaching certificate. His former teacher also encouraged Chris to sit in on his Great Books Program to see what advanced students could accomplish given the proper motivation.
    Chris Pappas listened and pondered and followed Bill Bradfield's advice. He did attend Cabrini as well as St. John's in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He got the certificate and returned to Upper Merion as a substitute teacher and also taught kids with learning disabilities and emotional problems. He was a good choice for a job that required compassion.
    During the year that he was a substitute teacher, Chris Pappas became very close to Bill Bradfield.
    "You remind me of myself when I was your age," Bill Bradfield told him. "We're similar, you and I. We've both had to deal with overpowering fathers who believed the only right way to do things was their way. We've always felt very little sense of accomplishment in our fathers' eyes, haven't we?"
    Chris confessed that he'd been such a worrier all his life that he'd developed a stomach ulcer at the age of ten. Now the scholar of Upper Merion began telling him that he had a superior mind, and that one way to prove something to the ghosts of one's childhood is to prove something to oneself. Bill Bradfield demonstrated that the way to achieve selfsatisfaction and self-esteem is through duty and service. Chris trusted Bill Bradfield to guide hiin.
    Chris Pappas was as decent and likable as Vince Valaitis, and, in his own way, even more vulnerable. He listened attentively whenever Bill Bradfield extolled the teachings of Thomas Aquinas and pointed out to him that Catholicism proved that one is not enslaved by obedience to higher authority; one is set fee by it.
    At the time Chris had a friend named Jenny who was several years younger, but he and Jenny were no more than friends. And Jenny had a best friend named Shelly who was eighteen years old and one of Bill Bradfields gifted students. Shelly was a sturdy industrious girl who reminded Chris of a flouncing