It was an odyssey from heady success to near despair that featured speaker Bill Crowley '74 shared with his classmates and other alumni/ae at the Reunion banquet in June. Crowley was one of three partners in the small Boston law firm made famous by Jonathan Harr's book, A Civil Action, and the John Travolta movie of the same name. Crowley's talk is excerpted here:   

"What a great weekend this has been returning to Holy Cross. It has been and is an occasion rich in fellowship and warmth. . So much good comes from times like this. . Ed (Sullivan '74) and the (Silver Jubilee) Reunion Committee have honored me by asking me to share with you on this occasion my thoughts about my Woburn odyssey. It was a journey that tested my partners and me on all levels, personal, professional and financial. However, it was also a journey that I came to learn, took me from and eventually back to these familiar surroundings of our alma mater.

"As I was climbing these hills as a freshman . I was young, but I knew I was blessed to be here. For Holy Cross is a place that gives us the tools to go out into the world and achieve our full promise, but always within the framework of our faith. I knew that Holy Cross stands for people trying to make a difference in the world. I was exhilarated by this spirit and what it meant to be part of this tradition. 

"When I graduated from climbing these hills, I felt ready for more challenge. I dashed from here to climb the next hill in my life, the law school hill, for I wanted to continue to strive to achieve the success that so many others from here had. I was as lucky as a new lawyer could be because, soon after graduating from law school, I went to the doorstep of one of those Holy Cross alumni who has achieved so much. He is celebrating his 50th reunion tonight, and he was my first mentor in the practice of law in the real world-my good friend, Barry Reed, from the great Class of 1949. 

"I remember when we first met. Barry wasn't hiring at the time, but out of courtesy to a mutual friend, he agreed to see me. When he looked at my resume, his eyes glanced only at the top where my college education was listed. Without reading further, he put the resume down and said, 'So you went to Holy Cross? Listen, a motion in one of my cases is being heard tomorrow morning in Plymouth Superior Court. Would you be interested in handling it and helping me out?'  I said, 'Of course. Just tell me one thing. Where's Plymouth Superior Court?' 

"That was the start. From there, I'll say my years at Barry's office were the most educational and enjoyable of my legal training. Barry taught me a lot about how to be a lawyer for people-a good lawyer-for, as someone who takes on difficult odds in the quest for justice, he is one of the best. I wanted to be like that, and achieve what he had. But as good as he is, that was something Barry could not teach me. That was something I had to learn for myself. And so, when I felt ready, I dashed from his place to make my own mark in the law. 

"So with my two partners, Jan and Kevin, we started our own firm. Our years together were heady, exhilarating years. Our young firm thrived on challenge, and luxuriated in success. Each hill we climbed gave a view of still another more challenging one that needed scaling. And as we scaled each, the view from these summits was intoxicating. As we basked in the success of conquering each challenge, I believed I had finally achieved what I had been after. To my partners and me, it became our toast to each other, 'Rich and famous doing good.' 

"Then the mothers from Woburn came and told us their story. Many of you know this story. It is the story of how a community awoke to find that their wells were contaminated and their children were dying. They asked if we could help them find answers to their questions. 

"At first, my partners and I did not feel up to the challenge, for no one had ever climbed such a hill as this in the law before. But there was something about the families and their story, and that hill. I remember thinking about that hill, and what it would be like to reach that summit. And the lure of it made us want to try. So we did. 

"We undertook this climb like we had all the others-committed 100 percent. But this was a climb like no other we had known. It took everything we had and more. It took all our resources. It took all our time. It took all our attention, and thereby, it threatened even the things closest to us. But here, I was fortunate once again. I was sustained during this long ordeal by my wife Michele. Although she was climbing her own hill towards an MBA, and raising our son Bill through his first years, her support was steadfast and unwavering. 

"In the end, however, the climb up the Woburn hill simply took too much. This time, Schlichtmann, Conway & Crowley did not attain the lofty summit. We fell from our perch, and we didn't stop falling until we hit bottom. And at the bottom, we were broken and exhausted. The once prosperous firm that relished in our aphorism of 'rich and famous doing good' was no longer. Prosperity was transformed into despair. For my part, I thought for a long time that I had lost it all-that I had nothing, no more riches, nothing to celebrate. And, I thought, nothing good had come of this climb-only failure. 

"But in order to move beyond the pain of the past, as I had to if I were truly to live again, something was required from me. Something was required that no one else could help me with, not even Michele. It had to come from me alone. And this something was to reclaim a basic teaching that I had learned here at Holy Cross, but had forgotten in my exuberance to dash up all the hills. 

"First, however, I had to confront the past and our failure. It could not just be forgotten or ignored. I knew the time when the pain of the past would come back for me was when A Civil Action would reach the bookstores. And I remember that day. As I walked to the bookstore to purchase my copy, I could feel the anger and pain welling up. I took a copy off the shelf and, in my anger, dropped it on the clerk's counter. My anger was joined by embarrassment when I realized that I had no cash. I asked the clerk if she would 'take a check.'

"A few moments later, when she handed me the book and my receipt, something unexpected happened. She said to me, 'As a citizen, I want to thank you.'  When she saw my quizzical look, she said, 'Well, you are the Bill Crowley in this story aren't you?' Then we shared a laugh together. As I left the bookstore, I was no longer filled with anger, but with amazement and wonder.

"It was not too long after this that I was invited to . Harvard Law School. Harvard was hosting a conference on Woburn. They called it the "Lessons from Woburn Conference."  All the lawyers involved in the case had been invited to come together again, but this time, not as the bitter adversaries that we were years earlier, rather to offer perspectives and to share what we had learned from the experience of fighting this war. 

"A lawyer for one of the companies charged with contaminating the wells was asked to speak. He said that we made a mistake. We cared too much for others. We risked too much for others. He said we had become so obsessed with Woburn, that we allowed it to become a cause. The lawyer said it was not a cause-it was just a case and that was our mistake. I listened to his words, and thought about them.

"Later, I had to visit a place that is familiar to all of us . I looked at the gravestones in this place and noted the numbers carved into the stones. You know the numbers-the numbers at the beginning and the numbers at the end. And those numbers are always separated by that mark in the middle . a dash. It made me think about what someone-someone who was older and wiser than I-had once told me, 

It's not the numbers on the stone that matter-it's only the mark in the middle-that little dash. The dash is all we have. It's the mark you leave with your dash that matters.'

"Then it came to me. I had made a mistake in my attempt to climb the Woburn hill. But the mistake that I had made was not the one suggested by the lawyer at the Harvard Law School conference. Not at all. The mistake I had made was in forgetting what I had learned 25 years ago at Holy Cross, our College on the Hill. It was that while we pursue success, we must not forget the real reasons for wanting to attain the goal in life of becoming 'rich and famous doing good.' They are the most important life lessons of all: 

"We become truly rich when we enrich the lives of others-when we care about the lives of others, that is a cause-a cause to celebrate. And only Good can come from this. If we remain sustained by this faith, there is no hill we cannot climb."