Eulogy

Terry Russell is interrupted by the old-fashioned intercom as he teaches his community class in Danville, Illinois. Former U.S. President Paul Devlin has died.Forty-five years before, as a college student, Russell managed Devlin’s upset win in the Iowa Caucuses, a win that propelled Devlin into the White House. Not offered a position in the new Devlin Administration, Russell became a teacher, got a PhD in history and turned his dissertation into a biography of House Speaker Joseph Cannon.Just as the intercom static fades, Russell gets a call. At President Devlin’s request, he’s due in a meeting in Devlin’s office in Chicago. A U.S. Navy helicopter is on its way to pick him up.At the Devlin Center for Peace and Reconciliation, Russell is thrown into a Zoom meeting. Staring at each other across the table and on the screen are Devlin’s long-estranged widow, his two top assistants in the White House, his “official” biographer, the Archbishop of Chicago and Devlin’s long-time assistant at the Devlin Center. On the screen, an image of President Devlin appears, maybe twenty years before. He’s at that very table with a beer in his hand. With a broad smile he begins, “Hi folks. If you’re seeing this, I’m dead. Miss me yet?”Russell laughs out loud and catches himself. The only other person who seems amused is his widow, Georgia. Devlin’s got two specific requests; he wants a low-key funeral and he wants Russell to write his eulogy. The reason? Russell’s eulogy should be “historically accurate” as Russell was in his Cannon biography.From small-town Danville to big-city Chicago, from college classrooms to the splendor of the iconic Holy Name Cathedral, the ghost of Paul Devlin hangs over a week-long, high stakes, tug-of-war over what is said about the former President at his own funeral. Read more