Get it now at Amazon, Company Man: My Jesuit Life, 1950-1968.
From the book, first page:
Five of us took the New York Central from Chicago to Cincinnati in August, 1950, arriving with hours to spare before our 6 p.m. novitiate-arrival deadline. Our destination was suburban Milford, 15 miles east of the city. Killing time, we cabbed it at one point. One of us wanted to buy a fielder’s glove. We asked the cabbie where we could find a sporting goods place. He picked up on the sporting part and was about to suggest a brothel. We cut him short smilingly. Athletic goods, yes. Sexual athletics, no.
From the book, last page:
On my last night, Brichetto and I and two or three others had a good hour or so chatting in the kitchen over a beer. As we broke up, he commented that this is how we Jesuits should get together with each other, referring to our relaxed camaraderie.
Next morning after breakfast, five or six gathered at the loading dock to say goodbye to me. My rental car was waiting, compliments of the Xavier U. minister, who also gave me $400 for the pocket. I was good to go, as people say. As we stood there, joshing briefly, Brichetto, who was not one I’d told of my leaving, passed the area and looked out at me from some 75 feet away, me in civvies and obviously on my way. We caught each other’s eye. He had a slightly bewildered look I had never seen on him—like Jesus being led away by Roman soldiers, looking at Peter, who had denied him.
Way in the back of my head, it was occurring to me that I was betraying him. I wondered momentarily, how many others? The feeling disappeared and did not return. I was off to my new life, simultaneously apprehensive and exhilarated.