by Gordon Ryan
As for Tom, his personal accord eventually came in the form of a reluctant acceptance that other men whom he admired and respected, yet resented, including Captain Geoffrey Masterton, would provide the spiritual guidance and occasional blessings his wife and children would need. When Robert Thurston was called to serve as bishop of their ward in 1903, he became a more frequent visitor in their home. Having his partner and friend serve as a spiritual adviser to his family was less embarrassing to Tom than if some other man had intervened in their personal lives. Tom had such a respect for Robert that it was impossible to view him in his role as bishop as anything other than a welcome member of the Callahan family, rather than merely Tom’s financial partner and president of Utah Trust Bank.
Katrina’s inner accord was different. With the help of those whom she loved, her mother among them—a woman who had wrestled most of her life with a domineering, albeit Mormon, husband—Katrina tried to be grateful for the fact that she had a good husband, and, seen in the broader light her mother presented, often a far better companion than some husbands who were already members of the church. It helped that she loved Tom passionately and couldn’t even imagine life without him. That was the problem. She believed in, and longed for, a celestial marriage, but for now she had no assurance her husband would ever join her in that union.
Her fear of the fact that perhaps Tom would never be able to fulfill her fondest wish, that of a temple marriage, caused her to spend long hours in prayer and to seek out several private sessions with Bishop Thurston, including one at which David O. McKay, high councilor in his stake, as well as a family friend, was also present.
Once Robert had changed roles and become her bishop, she found that he had always been aware of the inner conflict with which she wrestled. An added benefit was that Robert himself had come to love his business partner and to admire the policies Tom had established for the bank—policies that reflected Tom’s own character and integrity, and, as the name of the bank implied, trust. Had it not been so, Robert had told Katrina, he would not have been able to continue as Tom’s partner.
“How then,” she had asked him, “do we get Tom to take the final step?”
“We don’t,” he had replied. “Tom has to find his own way on this.”
Katrina had nodded her assent. They both realized that such a decision would depend on Tom’s ability to respond to the Lord’s promptings. Katrina could only hope the man she loved would one day embrace the truths of the gospel. Until then, she would continue to pray for him and try to be patient.
She sometimes felt guilty because of her feelings of discontent. She lived a life of relative ease and comfort. Her days were filled with joy, service to many other families, and above all, a deep and abiding love for her husband and four children. Yes, four. Katrina had not heeded Sister Mary’s nor her doctor’s warnings to avoid another pregnancy following the birth of the twins, Tommy and Teresa.
She had in fact not shared her medical prognosis with Tom. Not wanting to concede her inability to bear another child, Katrina hadn’t even detailed her condition in her journal. Instead, she agonized alone over her condition. Given the doctor’s warnings, she was fearful she might not be able to bring a baby to term or even to survive another pregnancy. Still, as the twins grew to become toddlers, she found herself desperately wanting another baby. Struggling to know what to do, she had an experience that convinced her to get pregnant again.
After lying awake through much of one hot summer night, listening to Tom’s snoring and fretting yet again about his refusal to embrace the gospel, she had at last fallen asleep. She dreamed about a blond, fair-skinned, green-eyed young boy. He said nothing, but stood silently at the foot of her bed, gazing at her with a warm, laughing smile. And when she awoke in the morning, and in the days that followed, she couldn’t get his innocent face out of her mind.
When she finally became pregnant, Katrina sat in Sister Mary’s office at Holy Cross Hospital and delivered the news. Sister Mary lowered her head, looked over her glasses at Katrina, and slowly shook her head.
“There’s no turning back now, my child,” she said.
“I know, Sister,” Katrina had smiled, knowing of this one concept where Catholics and Mormons were in total agreement. “I’ll just trust in the Lord.”
And so it was that on February 13, 1905, Benjamin Lars Callahan became the fourth child and third son of Thomas and Katrina Callahan. With three doctors, Sister Mary, and several nursing sisters present, Benjamin appeared, as Katrina knew he would, without incident. To the medical staff, he was a miracle baby. To Katrina, he was a gift from God.
By 1906, Katrina’s brother, Anders Hansen, had been serving in the United States Congress for two years. Acting on Reed Smoot’s suggestion, Anders had in fact become a candidate for Utah’s congressional seat in 1900, but had withdrawn his bid for office in favor of another party selectee. He had instead stood for and been elected to the Utah Legislature where he was serving in 1903 when President Theodore Roosevelt visited Utah. Upon being introduced to the one-armed assemblyman, Roosevelt instantly recollected the service the young medic had rendered to the Rough Riders in Cuba in 1898. Armed with the popular president’s endorsement and a generous campaign contribution provided by Tom, Anders had been elected to Congress in 1904.
Viewed as an up-and-coming political figure, things had gone well for Anders and his beautiful wife. Except for one thing. They had remained childless during the six years of their marriage. If passion and longing could have produced a child, the couple would have had a quiver-full, but they had not succeeded in the one area that Utah society viewed as most vital, and it had created a sadness in their marriage.
On a cold, early spring day, during one of Sarah’s increasingly rare visits home to Utah, Katrina and Sarah were working in the Callahan’s big kitchen, preparing food to take to the home of a woman in the ward whose young husband had died suddenly of pneumonia. Chopping vegetables for a pot of soup, Katrina watched the industrious Sarah as the younger woman rolled out pie crusts on the kitchen table. The two had found themselves remarkably compatible. Sarah especially loved helping Katrina with the children, and the three older children—PJ, Tommy, and Teresa—had responded lovingly to their aunt.
“Oh, Katrina,” Anders’s pretty and enthusiastic wife had exclaimed one day, “you’re the sister I never had!”
Her hands and wrists now covered with flour, Sarah blew ineffectively at some loose strands of auburn hair that had escaped their pins and were dangling in front of her face. Katrina reached to brush the hair back, and in that small act felt again the joy of having such a friend. As Sarah smiled her thanks, Katrina inexplicably began to cry, and she turned quickly away to hide her tears.
From the day they were first introduced, they had been drawn to each other and had almost immediately fallen into the pattern of sharing their innermost thoughts and feelings. Katrina had spent countless hours consoling Sarah over what had become a constant heartache—her inability to conceive—a painful fact that she was reminded of each month. After a time, Katrina had even confided in her sister-in-law her own sadness over Tom’s unwillingness or inability to embrace the gospel—going so far as to allow herself to wonder out loud if she had done a prudent thing by bringing children into a marriage not sealed by the priesthood.
Isn’t it ironic, Katrina thought, watching Sarah work with the pie dough, that Sarah should have the priesthood in her home but no children, while I have children but no priesthood?
Later that day, after attending the heart-wrenching funeral and helping afterward to serve dinner to the deceased man’s extended family, the two emotionally spent sisters-in-law collapsed for a moment on the couch in Katrina’s parlor. Recalling the grief-stricken young widow and her sorrowing children, Katrina said to Sarah, “I guess we don’t need to look very far to find those who are in more pain or difficulty than we are, do we?”
“How true,” Sarah agreed. “But God is good. Perhaps all we can do
is trust that he cares for us, and that things will work out for the best.”
Too tired for the moment to offer any other solution, Katrina could only smile and say, “I suppose you’re right, Sarah. I suppose you’re right.”
And so 1906 moved on toward summer. Utah Trust Bank was continuing to prosper; Tom was providing everything possible for his family, save one thing; PJ was growing strong, dependable, and righteous—“an ambassador of good-will,” grandfather Lars called him; and although younger, Tommy was already showing a rebellious streak, “somewhat like myself,” Tom allowed. Teresa—“Tess” to everyone by now—was becoming more winsome and coy; and baby Benjamin was willing to cuddle with anyone who would hold him.
Certain issues beyond religion occasionally cropped up to hinder the tranquility of their lives, but, on the whole, Katrina thought that Tom had become a fine father and husband. There was one incident, however, that had required her to adamantly oppose Tom and, as a result, they hadn’t spoken for days.
In September, 1906, young Tommy had entered first grade and had come home from his third day of school with a small cut over his eye. Immediately, Katrina had questioned him about what had happened. When he didn’t respond, PJ had spoken up. Tess, also in first grade, entered the room and took a seat, listening to the story.
“He got in a fight, Mom,” PJ had said with a semblance of pride in his younger brother. “And he won, too.”
“A fight?” Katrina asked. “Why?”
“It’s not Tommy’s fault, Mom, really,” PJ continued. “Butch Tully tried to take his money.”
“Who’s Butch Tully?” Katrina asked.
“He’s in the third grade with me. He always picks on the smaller kids. Can we have some milk?”
“Later, PJ,” Katrina said, becoming exasperated at trying to pull information out of her sons. “Did you see this fight, Tess?” she asked.
“Nope. I walked home with Rachel.”
“Well, will someone please tell me what happened?” Katrina said.
“Mom, nothing happened,” Tommy said.
“Sit right down on the couch, young man,” she said to Tommy. “You too, PJ, while I send for your father. Perhaps you’ll answer his questions.”
The boys fidgeted for several minutes while Katrina asked Henry to drive to the bank and ask her husband to come home. Tommy sat uncomfortably in the parlor for the thirty minutes it took his father to arrive. He was at first afraid of how Tom was going to respond, but as they talked about what had happened, Tommy could see his father was actually proud of him for standing up to the older boy. Of course his dad wasn’t able, in the presence of Tommy’s mother, to actually praise his son, but the man and boy nevertheless communicated.
Most of the description of the school-yard scuffle came from PJ. Shocked by her young son’s behavior, Katrina alternated between asking for additional information and saying she didn’t want to hear any more about the incident.
“Dad, Butch is a bully. He’s too chicken to take on anyone bigger or older, but he’s picked on the first graders every day since school started and made them give him their lunch money or something. Tommy said no, and Butch hit him.”
“And then what?” Tom asked, trying to keep from smiling in the face of the “emergency” Katrina had described when she had sent Henry to ask him to come home.
“Then I showed him the left jab and the right hook you taught us, Dad. It really works,” Tommy said, smiling, but quickly regaining a straight face as his mother frowned at him.
“Seems he handled it well, Katie,” Tom shrugged. “What can I say?”
“Thomas, I will not have fighting promoted among my children.”
“Would you rather your son was beaten up?” Tom said, taking his handkerchief and kneeling in front of Tommy to wipe the cut on his forehead.
Before Katrina could respond, Henry stepped into the room. “Mr. Callahan, there is a Mr. Tully asking to see you.”
“Ask him to come in, Henry.”
“Excuse me, sir. Mr. Tully specifically asked that you come out on the front steps to speak with him.”
“All right,” Tom said, rising and tousling Tommy’s hair and giving him a quick wink that was hidden from Katrina’s view.
“That’d be Butch’s dad, I bet,” PJ said.
“Well, let’s see what he wants,” Tom said. The children scrambled off the couch and followed their father to the front door. Katrina followed closely behind.
“Mr. Tully,” Tom said as he stepped out onto the porch and offered his hand. “How can I be of service?” Tommy stood next to his dad while Katrina, PJ, and Tess remained just inside the door.
Ignoring Tom’s offer to shake hands, Tully said, “For one thing, you can control your brat.”
Tom raised an eyebrow and smiled at the other father.
“Ah, Mr. Tully, it seems our lads just had a misunderstanding. Isn’t that right, son?” Tom said to the young boy standing behind Tully.
“I wouldn’t call a chipped tooth and a black eye a misunderstanding, Callahan.” Mr. Tully reached down at Tom’s side and grabbed young Tommy’s arm, shaking him. “You, young man, need a good hiding,” he said loudly.
“I think you’d best take your hands off my son, Mr. Tully,” Tom said, his smile now gone.
“I suppose you support his behavior, Callahan. No wonder the kid gets in fights,” Tully said, continuing to shake Tommy’s arm.
Tully was bent over slightly, holding on to Tommy. The quick, downward punch went unseen by Katrina who had been reaching for Tommy to pull him away from Mr. Tully’s grasp. Suddenly, Tully was stretched out, face down, on the steps in front of her home, and his son, Butch, was wide-eyed and backing away.
“Thomas!” Katrina shrieked.
By then, Tom was bending down to help Mr. Tully regain his feet. “Perhaps we can discuss this some other time, Mr. Tully,” Tom said.
Tully regained his feet, rubbing his jaw and scowling at Tom. “You ain’t heard the last of this, Callahan,” he said. As the Tullys were leaving, young Tommy called out, “Hey, Butch. See ya tomorrow,” just before his mother grabbed him more roughly than Mr. Tully had, moments earlier.
“Inside, and up to your room,” Katrina commanded.
For three days, Tom endured the absolute silent treatment from Katrina, until, finally, he had pleaded with her to forget the incident. She had extracted a solemn promise from him that he would never again strike another person. None of the exceptions Tom tried to add to the bargain, such as self-defense or danger-to-the-family situations, were acceptable. The boxing lessons Tom had been giving to Tommy and PJ were also ended, and any further discussion of the incident was avoided. Tommy’s comment to his father one evening, a couple of weeks later, that Butch wasn’t bothering any of the younger kids anymore, brought only a quick wink, a smile, and a nod of the head.
Teresa, at six, and also in the first grade, provided a completely different sort of challenge to Tom. Almost since birth she had known what most little girls discover if they are observant—that their fathers will do whatever they want if they present their case well. While reading the newspapers in the evening, Tom would often only grunt in response to his sons’ questions and even to Katrina’s attempts at conversation. They all knew that their father was not paying any real attention to their entreaties.
Tess, however, would worm her way up under his newspaper, take her father’s face in both her little hands, look him straight in the eye, and make her case. As she perfected the maneuver, she added a kiss on the cheek and a wink of her bright blue eye. Tom would lay the paper aside and listen with full attention to his pretty daughter’s prattle. She discovered early that her father could be cajoled in this way to giving into just about anything she asked. As young as they were, her brothers weren’t blind to their sister’s ability to get what she wanted. In fact, they had watched their mother use a similar version of the same technique to get around Tom and get what she wanted. It was a strategy they cou
ld never use and something they understood was simply a female privilege.
Before his children were born, Tom had assumed that being married to Katrina would be the greatest pleasure he would enjoy in life. Fatherhood, however, had opened up a whole new set of perspectives. Watching his children at play, he often thought of his own childhood in Ireland. He had loved his mother, but his father had been a tyrant who bullied Tom and the other children and made life miserable for the whole family—especially when he came home drunk. Remembering, Tom was grateful for the influence of Father O’Leary, who, shortly after Tom’s arrival in New York, had pointed out to the young brawler the frightening direction alcohol was taking him.
While eating dinner with his children or watching them seated around their mother as she read to them in the evening, it made him happy to be able to provide them a safe place to grow up, where they could live without fear of him. Being a father had brought out a gentleness in him that often surprised him, and he was enormously protective of his children. It was true that he still had a temper, and his children could provoke him, but he always felt bad after raising his voice to reprimand them or following the occasional spanking he administered. By and large, it pleased Tom to treat his children in a kindly way.