Pete “Buck” Sheridan

Continuing the storylines of last week’s trip back east . . . .

If you’ve hung around this website long enough, you’ll understand that I like to include my friends, old and new, in my novels.

Peter Sheridan is one of those older friends that have made the cut.

Indeed, Colleen, worried that my bald pate would expose my cranium to harmful solar rays, recently provided me with a fashionable Compassion Cafe Cap to don.

But as my reconnection with Pete occured after I made the trip out west seven years ago, I had not actually seen him since that summer in 1983, when we were both sharing the rarified air of the Wall Street law firm, Cahill Gordon and Reindel.

We were an interesting combination back then. Pete was from a multi generational BIC family that had made the emigration north to Pearl River, before returning for college (and the local bars), playing football at what is now known as Manhattan University, before being dusted with the patina of Boston Brahmin through his post graduate, law school experience at Harvard.

I remained true blue to my BIC roots, through my more checkered and circuitous education in Fordham, The New School and Lehman College before sneaking through the back door of Fordham Law, where a strong and vital FL alumnae base at CG&R plucked my colorful resume from the stacks of more representative brilliant students for a shot at the big time.

Pete and I hit it off immediately. Even then, Pete, a devout Papist, worried for my heathen, druidic soul, and did his best to continuously point me back towards the one true church.

We also drank a lot, played softball, went to fun extracurricular firm events, and even occasionally saw each other in the library, learning how to be lawyers.

Pete was larger than life.

But we were fast friends. He was “Petey” (sometimes “Sherry” – via John Lynch) and I was a vibrato “Maaaac.”

Pete and I parted ways after that summer. He went on to have a storied career as a law clerk to a federal judge in the Southern District of New York, an Assistant Attorney General for the Eastern District of New York, another rotation at CGR (after I had left) and then an assortment of high visibility positions, with high visibility connections. Pete was a high flyer.

I kind of shared a fictionalized version of my legal career with the character, Jimmy Moran.

Last year, I got a call out of the blue from Petey. He had accidentally happened upon me on-line when he crossed paths with my sister-in-law, Denise (wife of The Ginger)

on a Bronx Bars website.

Small world, Pete had crossed paths many times with The Ginger during his well spent undergraduate years in that stretch of Irish bars under the B-Way & 242nd street subway station. The Ginger also attended what was then Manhattan College. They shared a healthy respect for one another.

Anyway, when Pete saw the last name in the context of Bronx bars, he felt compelled to inquire of my SIL, “Are you related. . . . “

Since all McCaffreys are related, it was a safe bet, and one thing led to another and voila.

Pete called me out of the blue.

We had a great time catching up – including talking about common CG&R friends like John Bricker – and as I was about to start writing WTLLM – I asked Pete if he (and his wonder dog Fergus) wanted to be characters in the next book. I also included JB to keep the band together.

Now when I wrote about Pete Sheridan, I wanted to capture his larger than life nature so I drew upon the Irish classics and borrowed a slightly veiled reference to James Joyce’s character – Malachi Roland St. John “Buck” Mulligan – from the often referred to but barely read novel Ulysses. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buck_Mulligan

I spent a semester dissecting that book at Lehman. I’m still clueless.

So my old friend Petey became Peter “Buck” Sheridan. A fateful pentagon appointee as head of Space Force.

I even gave Petey’s character a love interest, by shanghaiing another friend into the Claire Universe – Renee Clarke – as a subordinate ranking officer who keeps Pete’s character in check throughout the novel.

That’s me and Renee during her recent visit to Casa Claire.

And of course Fergus the dog steals the book. Claire is watching carefully.

I even put the Sheridan Navy nephew, Jack Lawlor, in the book as the priest character in recognition of Petey’s strong unrivaled patriotism and unshakeable Catholic foundation. There’s a shot of Jack with his lovely sister, Petey’s niece, Cara.

Thank you Jack for your service to our country, and Cara for your irrepressible smile and Irish beauty.

So anyway, the book and its characters are now a hit, and The Claire Saga is a wrap(?). Come on Hollywood, its ripe for the picking.

Fast forward to last week, when I made my way back east for the first time in seven years – Locust schedule – and of course I knew I had to make the trip out to NJ to see my eldest brother Eddie on his birthday –

who once upon a time looked like this when up to late night shenanigans

and to make amends for killing him off in the first book, I bought along a jar of Mark & Sara’s magical honey. Guaranteed to extend your human life as long as you want to. https://jaxandcobees.com/#:~:text=Jax%20&%20Co%20Backyard%20Bees.%20WELCOME%20TO%20OUR%20HIVE!%20Jax

So, I figured since I was crossing a bridge, I would also make a trip to see Petey, who is physically rehabbing in another NJ town not too far away.

As it was also recently Pete’s birthday, I bought him a bottle of M&S’s private stock of Honey Mead, which will be great for his insulin levels, to serve his velvet rope company that passes through his very posh doorway.

As with all true friends, the years dropped away, and we were those two young BIC lawyers breaking balls and talking shit for over three hours.

Petey was every bit as witty and entertaining as Buck Mulligan. Dare I say more so. Take that JJ.

And before I knew it, I had to get back to Warwick to prepare for the readings coming up that week.

So, I snapped a photo of me with Pete holding his name sake’s tome and bid this dear friend farewell.

Petey it was great seeing you. Magical. I didn’t do you justice in the book, but you get to hang with wonderful characters forever in its pages, just like we did here on NJ’s version of landfill terra firma.

So, the dawn approaches and I must turn back to reality.

You fine, five readers have been very patient waiting for these East Coast stories, and I will continue to roll them out for you. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow . . . .

But now we must finish our caffiene cuppas and get a move on. Thank God (that’s for you Petey) it’s Thursday, Friday’s handmaiden.

Get into work and wrap your week. It’s October – the Spooky Month – so there is plenty to fill our weekends with. Leave Friday for early escapes and planning.

First I have some kitties to cuddle and rounds to make.

And, no matter what else we have on our respective and collective plates, let us not forget to make today a great one.