In this novel, lawyer Archie McAdoo and son Ned wrestle with a controversial case involving a gay client who claims he was fired for being HIV-positive. As ever in the law, truth and justice are a lot more complicated and elusive than they seem on the surface.
Teaching Kit
Adopt Why My Dad Hates Ice Cream as a middle school or high school course or unit of a course. You are welcome to use the copyrighted Teacher’s Packet and related copyrighted materials posted here, provided you require your students to buy the book.
Dr. Jim Castagnera, the author of Why My Dad Hates Ice Cream, is available to visit your class, if you adopt the book. Contact him through this website.
In this novel, Archie and Ned McAdoo take the case of an animal-rights activist accused of planting a bomb in the Philadelphia Zoo to free its elephants. The paths of 19th and 21st century terrorism cross in this novel’s plot, which is as fresh as this morning’s headlines.
The McAdoos on YouTube:
Ned McAdoo Teaching Kit
Adopt Ned McAdoo and the Molly Maguires as a Middle School or High School course or unit of a course on terrorism. You are welcome to use the copyrighted Teacher’s Packet and related copyrighted materials posted here, provided you require your students to buy the book.
Dr. Jim Castagnera, the author of Ned McAdoo and the Molly Maguires, is available to visit your class, if you adopt the book. Contact him through this website.
Volume 3: Maggie in the Underworld
Chapter Two:
Eddy Ireland's name let him
in for a lot of verbal abuse over the years."You must be one
of those black Irish," other members of the Philadelphia P.D. would say, sometimes with a
not©particularly©friendly chuckle.
After the '64 Civil RightsAct, followed by the Pennsylvania Human Relations
Act, and a phalanx of related City ordinances and police regs, made remarks like that
illegal, Eddy had thought a time or two about suing the Department. He came really close in '84, but by
then he had his 30 years just about in, and the fact that he had never made
captain didn't seem to mean as much as it used to. And so in '86 he retired,
just 52 years old, a tough, seasoned vice squad lieutenant,and put his investigative skills up for sale to the
highest bidders.¡[1] ¡The
bidders soon proved to be plentiful.
Although there were lots of other P.I.'s in Philly, most boasting at least some police
experience, few were as knowledgeable ortenacious as Eddy. Maybe it was because he had something to prove. And maybe that something got just a little bit bigger when,
shortly after he handed in his badge and took his pension, younger Afro©American colleagues ©© two or
three ©© made captain. Maybe, just maybe, Eddy admitted to himself during some of
those stakeouts, when time laid heavy on his hands, he wanted to show those younger bucks
that he could have been a captain too.
The stakeout was a private dick's dream. First of all, Eddy had been able to
rent a vacant row home right across the street from the place he was
being paid to watch. Second,
the subject was so sure of her safety in this neighborhood safety from the cops, safety from the petty hoods who stalked the
streets of North Philadelphia that she dealt with her runners right out on the front
stoop. So Eddy was able to get
some great shots. By the end of the first
week, the repeat appearance of six now©familiar faces satisfied him that he had photographed her entire stable of
mules.
So
satisfied, at about 7:15 on Saturday afternoon, he packed up his gear, carried
it out back and loaded it into his van. That night he went to the Irish Pub on
Walnut Street for a few celebratory brews. He ran into a couple of old cronies from the force and a few
turned into quite a few, the evening culminating in a
quick trip to Sugar's, a local strip joint featuring couch and lap dancing.
Consequently,
Eddy slept late the next day, and didn't get the film developed until nearly eight that evening. Then he called his client to make sure
he was home and took the pictures in a big, stiff manila envelope out to his
house in Huntingdon Valley. Eddy
left there with a white business envelope bulging with
twenties.¡[1] ¡He
felt pretty good about this gig.
He felt pretty good about it until he read his Philadelphia Inquirer the following Friday.
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