[CTRL] [2] La Popesa

[Kris Millegan]

 -Caveat Lector-

excerpts from:
La Popesa
Paul I. Murphy©1983
w/R. Rene Arlington.
Warner Books
ISBN
0-446-51258-3
--[2]--

Upon becoming archbishop, Spellman immediately went to work to clear up not
only the New York archdiocese's financial plight but that of the Church
throughout the United States. Unknown to Catholics and even to many within the
hierarchy in the United States, near chaos characterized the Holy See's
financial affairs in America.

Long-overdue debts had accumulated to almost $200 million nationally, in
addition to the $28 million owed by the New York archdiocese.

Spellman named as his financial adviser his longtime friend John A. Coleman,
one of Wall Street's ablest and most influential brokers. From then on the
Holy See in America was into big business in a big way.

In their successful drive to turn the heavily debt-ridden New York archdiocese
into the richest in the world, the ambitious pair began by playing upon
Spellman's "amazing capacity for getting things done by the give-and-take of
favors through powerful people." Day after day they staged luncheons and
dinners with bankers, industrialists, Wall Street traders, corporate
executives, labor leaders, real estate brokers, financial editors-anyone of
influence in any field.

Titles in the Knights of Malta, the Holy See's most prestigious organization
of laymen, were offered as bait to the wealthy and powerful who sought
personal gilding in exchange for funds and favors. The title of knight became
so eagerly sought after by Catholic laymen that it was not uncommon for an
aspiring applicant to give Spellman from $50,000 to $100,000 for the honor.
Some Catholics were known to have paid the New York archbishop as much as
$200,000 to be named a knight.

Spellman became so greatly indebted to Coleman and trusted him so implicitly
that he eventually appointed the financier to the top post of the Knights of
Malta. From then on Coleman was known as "The Pope of Wall Street."

The archbishop took Knights of Malta funds and sums from another of the
Church's secretive male organizations, the Knights of Columbus, to use as seed
money for investments. The New York archdiocese also established its own bank,
the Archdiocesan Reciprocal Loan Fund, to borrow and lend money. Soon the
high-pressure team of Spellman and Coleman began making deal after deal-huge
multimillion-dollar transactions-principally with the Catholic establishment's
elite in big business, industry, and commerce.

In one deal alone during Spellman's reign $30 million was invested through
Coleman in the purchase of stock in National Steel, Lockheed, Boeing Aircraft,
Curtiss-Wright, and Douglas Aircraft. Large Church investments also were made
in other leading U.S. corporations, including Goodyear, Firestone,, General
Foods, Procter & Gamble, Standard Oil, Westinghouse, and Colgate-Palmolive.

A considerable interest in the Lambert Pharmaceutical Company, manufacturer of
Listerine Antiseptic, was bequeathed to Spellman by the firm's founder and
later sold by the archbishop for $25 million.

Spellman was rarely one to let personal feelings or ethics stand in the way of
opportunity. He heatedly denounced from the pulpit certain motion pictures
that he considered unfit and immoral. Forever Amber and Baby Doll, both made
by Paramount, were loudly condemned by him. Spellman nevertheless viewed
Paramount, despite its Church-censored movies, as a particularly wise
investment. Just how heavily the Holy See invested in the motion picture
company in later years has never become known, since the stock was traded
through disguised channels.

Almost all Church investments have been made through dummy corporations, or in
the names of those commissioned to act as straws. The negative image of a
religious organization being into big business in a big way has been the chief
consideration for its coverture.

Spellman even drew upon his personal hobbies in considering investments. An
avid baseball fan and even a fairly good player himself while in high school
and college, he thirsted for the glamour of owning a part of the New York
Yankees. Though the team was not for sale at the time, Spellman-using Knights
of Columbus fundssettled for the purchase of the Yankee Stadium grounds and
the surrounding parking lots.

Always the pragmatist, morality stood second to money on Spellman's list of
priorities. His attacks were frequent on show business people for what he
considered the entertainment industry's "loose morals," yet that did not stop
the archbishop from building a close relationship of his own with Broadway
showgirl Mabel Gilman Corey. When Corey became widowed from her wealthy steel-
magnate husband, William E. Corey, Spellman persuaded the former dancing
beauty to turn over to him her entire $5 million inheritance.

In a handwritten letter to the Chase Manhattan Bank, Corey directed the
transfer of all her wealth to Spellman's New York archdiocese. She wrote:

GENTLEMEN:

I desire to transfer my bank balances and all securities and property
belonging to me, of which you are custodian, to the Archdiocese of New York.
Will you please deliver to His Eminence, Francis Cardinal Spellman, or his
representative, a current statement of my assets and give your cooperation in
promptly effecting the transfer of title.

Very truly yours,

MABEL GILMAN COREY

Another show business personality-the famed Major Edward Bowes, who made
millions in the 1930s and 1940s introducing future stars on his hit Amateur
Hour radio show willed $3 million of his $4.5 million estate to Spellman.

Even the Mafia bent to kiss Spellman's ring. New York mobster Frank Costello,
who along with Lucky Luciano dictated the U.S. underworld's illicit drug and
prostitution operations, was particularly taken by Spellman's Church authority
and charm. Through Spellman's connection with Costello the magnificent bronze
doors of New York's Saint Patrick's Cathedral were presented as a gift to the
Church.

Though Spellman was by far the greatest business head the Church has ever had
in America, he was not the first U.S. churchman to connect the Holy See with
commercial ventures. Perhaps the biggest undertaking in earlier years was its
important role in the establishment of the Bank of America. Though this was
long before Spellman's time, it remained for the coming of the Spellman era
for the Holy See to reap the profits of its early investment, a mere $150,000
for which the Church received 51 percent of the bank's stock. During the
Spellman years the bank built its assets to over $25 billion.

According to Father Richard A. Ginder, a well-respected writer and priest
specializing in Catholic financial affairs, the Holy See's influence in
America's financial life grew to staggering proportions during the Spellman
years. Writing in the Catholic publication "Our Sunday Visitor" in 1960,
Father Ginder described the wealth of the Holy See in the early 1960s in these
terms: "The Church is the biggest corporation in the United States ... and our
roster of dues-paying members is second only to the tax rolls of the United
States Government."

At one point in Spellman's career Fortune magazine reported that the revenues
of the New York archdiocese alone exceeded $150 million annually, and his
parochial schools were worth another $22 million. But it was Spellman's
financial wizardry that proved to be the archbishop's greatest asset.

In one deal alone the archbishop got New York's City Hall to pay him $8.8
million for land and some old buildings valued at a fraction of the amount.
The site and its structures, located in upper Manhattan, belonged to
Manhattanville College, owned by the New York archdiocese. Spellman then
quickly turned around and bought 250 acres of far more preferable property in
the rich estate area of Purchase, New York, which he picked up for a mere
$400,000. There the prelate built a new and ultramodern Manhattanville
College, largely with the millions from his deal with New York's City Hall.

Without doubt the Holy See's interests in gambling-particularly bingo-also
contributed considerably to its wealth. Legalized in New York State on January
1, 1959, nearly nine years prior to Spellman's death on December 2, 1967,
Catholic organizations in New York realized nearly $90 million from bingo
operations alone in the decade ending in 1969.

The additional advantage to the Church remained in its unique nonprofit
designation, which enabled the Holy See to earn its fortunes without payment
of taxes.

A staunch believer that "money makes money," Spellman spent huge sums as fast
as the funds came in. He frequently invested as much as $90 million a year in
construction. The money went into the building of 130 Catholic schools, 37
churches, and 5 large hospitals, along with numbers of other institutions.

Within just a few years Spellman had created a cash surplus for his
archdiocese of about $182 million. As time went on he was to rule a real
estate empire for the Church in New York that has been estimated in the
billions of dollars.

"Is it any wonder that some of the hierarchy in Rome were so envious of
Eminence Spellman?" Pascalina recalled with a wry smile. "Eminence Tisserant,
who was least appreciative of all the good work being done in the New York
archdiocese, would refer to Eminence Spellman as 'Cardinal Moneybags.'"

On one occasion Tisserant's derision almost got the nun in trouble. She told
the Holy Father that a special friend was arriving the next day with a sackful
of money. Pius at first was only half listening, but before all of her words
were out, he abruptly looked up from his desk, and in a tone of great interest
he asked: "Who is this special and generous friend?"

"Cardinal Moneybags," she blurted out without realizing), What she
was saying. The Pope's look of amazement caused her insides to quake with
embarrassment, and she felt the hot flush on her face swiftly rise to her
temples. She was sure that the Holy Father was incensed with her, but Pius's
face quickly relaxed. With no sign whatsoever now of what he was thinking, he
said in calm voice: "When referring to Excellency Spellman, you mustn't call
him 'cardinal' while he's still only archbishop." Pascalina thought she saw a
faint smile on the Pope's lips as he nonchalantly returned to his paperwork.

The next day the nun felt even more regretful of her words when Spellman
himself arrived, acting his old jolly self again. He first planted a warm kiss
on her cheek, then, while beaming a broad smile, he handed her a big black
satchel stacked with American currency and checks. "This is for His Holiness!"
he exclaimed in his old effervescent manner. Spellman bent close to her ear,
and like an errant youth-the picture she so often had of him in her mind-he
whispered: "There's a million dollars inside!"

"And how much is there for me?" she asked jokingly.

The archbishop reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. Handing her
the coin, he retorted playfully, "It's all I have left." He broke into
laughter, and she laughed heartily too. It was wonderful seeing Spellman again
as his "old and lovable self."

Loyal Spellman never failed Rome in his generosity. Throughout his reign as
head of the New York archdiocese he dutifully remembered Pius every year with
his customary $1 million donation.

Nor did Spellman fail Roosevelt. Early in World War II the U.S. President put
the clever archbishop's special talents to important use in behalf of the
nation. FDR's problem was a very real one, with serious consequences for the
Allies. In the three months after Pearl Harbor, Nazi sabotage had been
wreaking havoc with U.S. and other Allied troop and supply ships off the
Northeast coast. Hitler's German-American Bund, comprising large numbers of
German-American Nazi sympathizers, was largely responsible for the destruction
of vessel after vessel critical to the war effort. Twenty-one ships were
torpedoed in January, another twenty-seven in February, and fifty in March,
causing what was described by historian Rodney Campbell as a naval disaster
approaching that of Pearl Harbor. The most humiliating and devastating of the
attacks by the Bund was upon the huge French luxury liner the S.S. Normandie,
which the German sympathizers on February 9, 1942 set aflame and capsized at
its Manhattan berth. The Normandie—said to be able easily to outrun the
fastest U-boat—was being converted at the time into a major troop carrier,
capable of transporting an entire division overseas.

Spellman was called to the White House for an emergency meeting with the
President. FDR confided his utter frustration to the archbishop, who by then
had become military vicar of the U.S. armed forces. Spellman was told that the
Germans "are winning the battle of the Atlantic." In spite of America's great
resources, control of the Eastern Seaboard was in the hands of the German-
American Bund and Nazi submarines, the archbishop was told. Not only did the
Germans have accurate information long in advance of sailing dates of the
carriers and cargo ships, but a deadly cordon of U-boats lurked off the U.S.
coast. The Nazis, according to the President, were sinking U.S. and British
ships almost at will.

Roosevelt was convinced that only the Mafia, with its control of the docks
along the East Coast waterfront, could stop the sabotage. FDR's thinking was
that Mafia leaders, who sprang from Catholic heritage, could be inspired by a
prelate of the Holy See to take countermeasures for the sake of their country.
The President was sure that Spellman, because of his manipulative power and
devoted patriotism, was the prelate of choice for the job.

Spellman was stunned for the moment by the President's startling request, but
the priest was too experienced to display his feelings. The idea of a
prominent leader of the Holy Roman Catholic Church approaching a crime boss of
the underworld for a favor, even one in behalf of the United States
government, seemed unthinkable at the time to the archbishop.

Yet Spellman felt certain that the President was all too aware that Frank
Costello, the underworld's "prime minister" and a member of the Mafia's
national council, was a regular churchgoer. Costello was occasionally seen
praying at Saint Patrick's Cathedral, Spellman's own church, and the
archbishop was known to have at least a speaking relationship with the
mobster.

"I shall first have to confer with the Holy Father for permission," Spellman
told Roosevelt. The archbishop was secretly praying that the Pope would say
no; that would still leave  Spellman in a good position with the President.

Noting Spellman's hesitation, FDR chewed on his cigarette holder during a
moment of serious thought; then, pulling it from his lips in a gay gesture and
with head smugly cocked and a roguish smile, he said: "There is no substitute
for victory, my dear Bishop. Tell the Holy Father for me what my good friend
Winston [Churchill] so wisely said in defining wartime morality. 'If by some
strange stroke of fate the devil came out in opposition to Adolf Hitler, I
should feel constrained, at least, to make a favorable reference to the devil
in the House of Commons.'"

Pascalina had never seen Spellman so distraught as the day he arrived in the
Vatican in late March 1942. He paced her office in circles and was wringing
his hands as the words tumbled out nervously. "The President wants me to seek
a deal with the underworld for the United States government," the archbishop
told her in confidence. "How am I to present such a horrible idea to the Holy
Father? And how can I afford to turn down Roosevelt?"

The archbishop had always seemed so in control of himself that the nun was
more surprised by his emotional undoing than by his words. "Nothing that any
politician says or seeks surprises me any longer," she replied matter-of-
factly, trying to avoid answering his question directly.

"Would you please broach the subject with the Holy Father before I speak with
him?" he asked in near-pleading manner. "I will then be guided by your
advice."

Pascalina hesitated, then agreed reluctantly. "I did not think it fair to be
placed in the center of such a controversial matter," she said later. "I went
along with His Excellency's request only because of the respect and friendship
I had for him."

But she got no further with the Pope than if Spellman had tried himself. The
Holy Father was too experienced in diplomacy to personally turn a deaf ear to
a president so powerful as Roosevelt. The United States, with its huge
Catholic population and vast wealth and resources, had been steadily opening
its arms to the Vatican, and Pius was as anxious as FDR to keep their
relationship rosy.

She found Pius equally anxious to avoid facing Spellman directly on the issue-
to the archbishop's own relief. "Mother Pascalina, you are such a splendid
diplomat in such matters," the Holy Father said smoothly when they were alone
in his office. "Whisper in our American friend's ear that he has no need to
bring up such talk with me. It would be far more pleasant if His Excellency
and I confined our private audience tomorrow to a brief prayer." The Pope
smiled and tapped a loving touch on the nun's shoulder. As he opened the door
to let her out, Pius added softly, "I have full confidence in Archbishop
Spellman's discretion. The decision is his."

And so began what the United States government code-named "Operation
Underworld." Spellman, as military vicar of the U.S. armed forces, was advised
to meet with Lt. Commander Charles R. Haffenden for his instructions. As
commander of the Third Naval District, Haffenden was responsible for the
safety of all U.S. troopships and cargo vessels along the Eastern Seaboard.

The naval officer instructed the archbishop to contact Mafia boss Frank
Costello and talk with him at a clandestine rendezvous.

The unlikely pair met in a lower Manhattan tenement house. When Spellman
arrived, Costello rushed forward to greet him. The mobster knelt and kissed
the archbishop's ring.

"We all have a patriotic duty to perform for our country in time Of war,"
Spellman told Costello.

The gangster professed his patriotism and assured the archbishop of his good
intentions.

"I am both honored and overjoyed to be of service to my church and to my
country," Costello replied.

Weeks later Spellman again met with the President. This time, the prelate
exuded great confidence. Costello's promises had already produced results. The
swiftness of the Mafia attack was startling even to the President. Word had
gone out from Lucky Luciano, with whom Costello had conferred, ordering the
immediate halt of all sabotage of U.S. troopships and cargo vessels. Luciano,
boss of bosses of the U.S. underworld, though serving thirty to fifty years
behind bars in New York State's prison at Dannemora, had the power to do what
the U.S. government had consistently been unable to accomplish.

Even as the President and Spellman met, Mafia lieutenants and soldiers in
charge of the docks were countering the Nazi saboteurs all along the Eastern
coastal ports. Within weeks the entire waterfront was quiet.

The U.S. government rewarded Luciano handsomely for his efforts. After he had
served only a fifth of his fifty-year term, the federal government pressured
the state of New York to release the gangster. In 1946, a year after the war
in Europe ended, Luciano was set free and deported to Naples.

Luciano's release would have been effected earlier but for a dilemma in
Washington. The White House feared public reaction at turning the mobster
loose and allowing him to remain in the country. Yet Luciano could not be
returned to his native land while Mussolini remained alive. Il Duce had fought
the Mafia for years and would not permit any compromise. It was only after the
fascist dictator was assassinated in 1945 that the U.S. government moved to
free Luciano.

Pascalina was later asked if Pius XII's papacy had collaborated with the White
House in helping Luciano obtain sanctuary in Italy. The nun refused to
comment.

If the Church did participate, it would be difficult to explain its actions in
lending a helping hand to a hardened criminal, especially one under sentence
of up to fifty years for heading a prostitution ring. Then there was Luciano's
crime record after arriving back in Italy, where, following months of boring
idleness, Luciano was back in the rackets. This time the Mafia's boss of
bosses was directing a narcotics syndicate, illegally transporting drugs from
Sicily to the United States.

Luciano died of a heart attack on January 28, 1962, at the Naples airport. He
had gone there to meet a film producer interested in doing his life story. His
death at sixty-five, Italian police said, occurred just as they were about to
arrest him for running a huge international drug ring that had smuggled $150
million worth of heroin into the United States during the previous ten-year
period.

"It was a blessing when he [Luciano] passed away," Pascalina recalled. "I
remember saying a prayer to Jesus for the repose of his soul."

When Spellman himself died in 1967, the Church in the United States, which he
had found debt-ridden twenty-eight years before, had assets exceeding $80
billion.

The Holy See also reached the peak of its spiritual influence in America
during Spellman's twenty-eight-year reign. Church membership in the United
States showed an impressive rise. From about 21 million in 1939, the Catholic
population grew to over 45 million at the time of Spellman's death.

Never before in the new world was the faith of Catholics in their Church more
apparent or less challenged than during Spellman's golden age of Catholicism.
The communicants were prompted by his autocratic regime to think in terms of
the absolutes of right and wrong. They were fired as well by preachings of
self-denial with no room for compromise. In the United States, at least, it
was an unequaled period of both "blind faith" and remarkable generosity toward
the Holy See.

In the early days of Pius XII's reign, when Spellman's appointment as
archbishop of New York was so bitterly attacked by the Church hierarchy, blame
and condemnation were heaped upon Pascalina for pressuring in his behalf. But
even though Spellman proved himself in exemplary fashion, doing better than
the papacy dared dream, not once did anyone within the Vatican or elsewhere
throughout the Church acknowledge that but for the nun's intercession for her
friend, the Church in America might well have remained where Spellman found
it-in dire straits.

pps. 181-191
=====

XI

World War II ended with the formal surrender of the Japanese on September 2,
1945. Eight days before, Pascalina had turned fiftyone. The Pope was then
nearly seventy, and at times as much a mystery to the nun as when she had
first met him twenty-eight years earlier.

The world had no sooner settled down amid its hopes and prayers for a lasting
peace, than Pascalina detected ominous new clouds gathering on the Vatican's
own horizons in the form of rumored crimes and scandals within the Holy See.
If true, the allegations could be devastating to Catholicism, all the more so
were they to become public.

It was claimed that the Church in Sicily had fallen into corruption, the
accusations made in an anonymous letter that was slipped under the nun's
office door late one night. The unsigned correspondence said further that
Catholic priests and monks were agents of the underworld. Confessionals were
allegedly being used by the clergy as spy centers to gather information on
persons opposed to the Mafia. The clerics were charged with making notes of
what they heard for underworld figures.

The Sicilian peasantry, living in pathological fear of the Mafia, would never
have dared to talk had they not trusted their priests. The people chose to
obey the Mafia's code of omerta and suffered in silence rather than face the
terrible wrath of organized crime. Whole communities bowed their heads in
pathetic resignation, their ignorance and poverty fueling the Mafia's crimes.
In one place alone, the town of Mazzarino, the Mafia's reign of terror was
hurled at everyone who spoke in the confessional of their hatred of the
underworld. Catholic men and their wives and children became the horrified
victims of the hooded Franciscan friars, or witnesses to their brutal crimes.
Mazzarino was under seige by brown-robed clerics who had taken vows of
poverty, chastity, and obedience in the Order of Saint

Francis, one of the most respected religious bodies within the Holy Roman
Catholic Church. Their leaders were Padre Carmelo, Friar Agrippino, Friar
Vittorio, and Friar Venanzio. There was murder by hanging or beheading, there
was attempted murder, there were sexual assaults and orgies, there was
extortion. There seemed no end to the crimes.

"I am afraid!" were trembling words heard whispered everywhere by the cowering
peasants. The people grew all the more terrified with the awful realization
that their trusted priests had turned upon them and had squealed their secrets
to captains and soldiers of the Mafia. Though they had taken vows of poverty,
the bearded Franciscans were shrewd businessmen, too, buying and selling
property and pocketing the sky-high profits. They were even into loan
sharking, lending money at exorbitant rates of interest.

Even some of the kindliest of friars carried guns and cooperated with the
worst criminals. One group of priests eventually confessed that they
themselves committed all sorts of crimes. "The Mafia exists," Friar Vittorio
said as he stood accused. "We had to come to terms [with the Mafia] to avoid
the worst in the village." Another priest, Friar Agrippino, declared, "If we
don't obey, they'll kill us."

It was not surprising that Pascalina. was first among the upper echelon of the
papacy to be alerted to these crimes. Since she was confidante to the Pope and
his closest friend, it was well known in the Vatican that anyone hoping to
reach Pius's mind or heart would find the virgo potens (powerful virgin), as
she became known, the best pathway. Letters by the hundreds addressed to the
Holy Father, many in care of the nun, poured into her office each week. At his
request she screened scores of them, until her eyes were blurred and red.

She would also listen for hours almost every day to lines of people, nonclergy
as well as priests, bishops, and even cardinals, hearing their "endless ideas,
speculations, and grievances." Once she became so exasperated that she
complained to the Holy Father: "It seems that everyone has a complaint, or
secret information, or plan that supposedly offers better ways of doing
everything!"

Pascalina said nothing to the Pope about the letter of clerical indictment,
nor hinted of its charges. She felt that he had enough on his mind, and she
did not want to trouble him with what might well be baseless speculation.

As time passed the tales of the Sicilian crimes were more frequently heard by
her and came from a number of reliable sources. Still, she continued to cup
her ears whenever anyone as much as touched upon what she termed "baseless
scandal." She even refused to be moved by a young priest who came to her with
substantially the same charges, telling him that it all sounded like "such
preposterous nonsense." The nun was sure that prejudiced persons, out to
destroy the Church, had "concocted the stories in their entirety" from the
start, and now "unfortunately even those who love the Holy See believed the
ridiculous claims."

"Except for Jews, there were many non-Catholics in those days who would
manufacture any sort of wild charge to discredit Holy Mother Church," she
later recalled. "I've never known a Jewish person who attacked the Holy See in
vile manner. It is not in the Jewish character to behave that way. But,
unfortunately, there were those who still clung to the sad memories of pre-
Reformation days. It was persons of such bitter mind whom I first blamed for
the atrocious attacks on the Church in Sicily."

After several months Pascalina grew so troubled by the increasing frequency of
the attacks upon the character of the Sicilian clergy that she finally decided
to reveal everything to the Holy Father. Fearing the shock and drain it would
have upon him, and not wanting to spoil his Christmas holidays, she waited
until early January 1947.

Yet the Pope was not as moved as she had expected. After hearing her out, he
remained as unconvinced as she herself originally had been. "Mother
Pascalina!" he said as he shook his head in amazed disbelief, "how could one
as brilliant as you be so easily taken in?" He paused and stared at her,
pretending to be ashamed of her naivete. "Do you really believe that our dear,
devoted clergy would take to sin and crime?" he asked.

It was obvious to her that Pius could not conceive that any of his priests
were capable of such wrongdoing. Nor would he permit himself to dwell for a
moment on such horror. He arose, his deliberate sign that the subject must
end. "I am tired," he said with emphasis. "I am going to get some rest." He
turned and coldly walked out, leaving her with mixed feelings of astonishment
and depression.

"I kept asking myself, 'Did you do the right thing by telling him?"' she said
years later. "For the moment, I was convinced that I had made a big mistake.

But several days later Pascalina had a change of mind, and she came to realize
the wisdom of confiding in the Holy Father. This was confirmed when His
Eminence, Ernesto Cardinal Ruffini, the highest ranking churchman in Sicily,
arrived for a private audience with the Pope. Apparently, during the
intervening days, Pius had had second thoughts and summoned Ruffini for a
talk. For years the archbishop of Palermo had been held in rather low esteem
within the Vatican, some clerics even disparagingly referring to him as "the
king of the two Sicilies, the religious and the political."

Now the Pope was about to conduct his own private investigation. He made his
intentions clear to Pascalina by his severe tone and actions, especially when
he himself pointedly closed the door in her face once Ruffini was seated
within the papal inner sanctum. She could not remember when Pius had
previously excluded her, except during deliberations that would prove too
delicate for her ears, in his estimation, or when something was taking place
that he knew she would not tolerate.

Until that day Ruffini had always been shown favored status by the Pope, but
for what reason, Pascalina was unaware. The previous year, when Francis
Cardinal Spellman was in Rome to receive his red hat, she had hoped he might
shed some light on Pius's unusual affinity toward the Sicilian archbishop.

"Holiness is more considerate of Archbishop Ruffini than of any within the
Sacred College of Cardinals," she had said in wonderment to the American
prelate. "Even Eminence Tisserant, whom we know is destined to become Dean of
the Sacred College, does not receive Holiness's respect to the degree shown
Ruffini."

But Spellman, like Pius, had refused to touch even slightly upon anything
connected with the Church in Sicily.

Later she had learned, with some shock, that Cardinal Archbishop Ruffini was
an intimate of Don Calogero Vizzini, the mayor of Villalba, Sicily. Vizzini
was said to run the Sicilian Mafia and was spoken of as "the most powerful man
throughout the Italian province."

It was not altogether strange, in her mind, for the Church to have at least a
nodding acquaintanceship with the Mafia. The two shared certain common
beliefs, as viewed by Norman Lewis, a respected journalist who spent many
years investigating Sicily's secret crime organization. In his book The
Honored Society, Lewis points to the Mafia in feudal Sicily as having an "iron
morality of its own." Accordingly, says Lewis,

The Capo-Mafia considers himself a lawgiver concerned with the welfare of his
people, and prides himself on watching over the advancement of deserving
juniors in the organization with the assiduousness of the master of novices of
a religious order. In his own eyes, he never steals from the community, but he
can see no objection to exploiting his power over men to enrich himself.

Pascalina, as sophisticated and experienced as she was in the political
intricacies of the Holy See, understood the advantages to the Mafia in allying
itself with the Church, if only as a matter of expediency. But what were the
benefits for the papacy in such an alliance, if one did indeed exist? This was
what troubled her most.

Since neither the Pope nor Spellman would discuss the Mafia matter with her,
the nun, strangely enough, had looked to Cardinal Tisserant for enlightenment.
The French prelate may have appeared loud and crude to her, but she
appreciated his outspoken honesty.

"Ruffini is a powerful man in Sicily," Tisserant once told Pascalina without
hesitation. "Even Vizzini, who runs the Mafia there, bows to him. Vizzini not
only kisses the ring of the archbishop of Palermo, but he kisses his ass as
well," Tisserant said, and roared with laughter. "Pius is afraid to take
action. Afraid that any stand the papacy might take would lead to widespread
governmental investigations and prosecutions. With our clergy involved, the
publicity alone could wreck the Church. Besides, Ruffini is too powerful for
Pius to tackle."

Tisserant again burst into laughter. He apparently saw the link between the
Church and the Mafia in Sicily as a tragicomedy to be enjoyed thoroughly. "How
do you suppose Pius's hypocritical papacy can wiggle out of this dilemma, dear
Mother Pascalina?" he asked, his leering face only a hair's breadth from hers.

The nun knew there was more to the cardinal's words than mere banter.
Tisserant, whatever his shortcomings, would never imply wrongdoing without
basis of fact. Yet nowhere in her mind could she conceive that Pius would
condone the commission of sin or crime by the Catholic clergy in Sicily. She
was equally convinced that the Holy Father himself was innocent of any
misdoing.

When Cardinal Ruffini emerged from his command audience with the Pope, she
asked Pius if the Sicilian situation had been discussed.

"It is none of your business!" he angrily retorted. "Tend to your own affairs
and whatever work remains to be done!"

Understanding him as well as she did, Pascalina knew that Pius was not as
angry as he appeared. It was obvious to her that he found himself in a corner
for the moment, and was squirming. She knew too that it was wise for her to
retreat for the time being, and she did.

But as the days passed she became increasingly insistent that Pius explain his
reasons for evading her questions. Though she always waited until he was in
the right mood, he remained as noncommittal as ever. Her fears increased every
time he adamantly refused to discuss the matter.

The Pope's mistake, in her mind, was in taking the same track he had followed
during World War 11 in his failed stand on the Nazi atrocities. Pius's silence
had hurt him severely in the eyes of world Jewry. Failure now to act boldly in
handling the Church-Mafia connection could destroy the credibility of the Holy
See. To her way of thinking, the Pope could not go on wrestling with his
confusions and evade forever the mounting corruption and crimes on the island
off Italy's boot. He had to act decisively, she was convinced, and cut all
existing ties between Holy Mother Church and the Sicilian underworld.

She became even more certain of how right she was after her encounter with a
terrified citizen of Mazzarino, Sicily, who had come to the Vatican pleading
for his life.

"He was Signore Angelo Cannada, a fragile little person, nearly eighty years
old," Pascalina recalled. "His life, like that of many other people of
Mazzarino, had been threatened by Franciscan priests and monks who demanded
huge amounts of extortion money. Signore Cannad was the only victim who
refused to pay, and stood up to the Franciscans."

The old man begged to talk with the Holy Father and lay proof before His
Holiness of the ongoing crimes by the Catholic clergy. But despite Pascalina's
pleas Pius's doors remained closed. She was so disappointed and upset by the
Pope's coldness that she took matters into her own hands. She asked the old
man to return, and she heard him out fully.

At the time, it mattered little to Pascalina that she'd have an angry Pope
shouting at her afterward. She was learning, through the pathetic-looking
Cannada, who spoke explicitly of crimes by the Franciscans, of the powerful
grip the underworld had upon the Church in Sicily.

"When one understands the full philosophy of the Roman hierarchy, it is not
surprising that the nun, despite her long and intimate place at the very top
of Pius's papacy, could have remained unaware of certain goings-on," observed
Father James Rohan, a Jesuit historian.

The Franciscans had been among the holiest and most dedicated of religious
orders within the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Founded in 1209 by Christ's
great and loyal follower, Saint Francis of Assisi, the Franciscans were so
well regarded by the Holy See through the centuries that several of their
members were made popes.

Large-scale corruption and crime did not seep into the order until the turn of
the twentieth century. In 1901, for reasons that remain unclear, bands of
Capuchin*[*Known officially within the Church as the Order of Friars Minor
Capuchin, they are one of three autonomous branches of Franciscans.]
Franciscan friars of Mazzarino began roaming the rural Sicilian countryside,
waylaying and robbing travelers and the local peasantry. Terror tactics
thereafter grew steadily within the order in Mazzarino and became a part of
everyday life. Priests blackmailed peasants and extorted money and goods.
Women were brought to the monastery at night, dressed in Franciscan habits to
disguise their identities. The Franciscans' ancient monastery in Mazzarino
became the scene of debauchery, orgies, and pornographic activities.

Perversion was only part of the evils. Cannada told Pascalina of a pitched
battle he had once witnessed between the peasants of Santo Stefano and monks
of a local monastery. He spoke of seeing a priest behead his own abbot on a
refectory table.

"Only as recently as 1945, the bishop of Agrigento was shot and nearly killed
by a monk who was also a Mafioso," the old man related. "The Franciscan
monastery in Mazzarino, at this very time, shelters bands of robbers who share
the proceeds of their crimes with monks and priests living there."

Cannada begged Pascalina to ask the Holy Father to send a commission of
Vatican clergy to Sicily for a full investigation.

The nun told Pius everything the old man had said, and the Pope thought the
whole story so incredible that he refused to take action.

Four days after Cannada's return to Mazzarino, a band of masked men called at
his home, just as he lay down from his long and disappointing trip to the
Vatican. Holding rifles at his head, the men dragged the terrified Sicilian
from the house to his vineyard, where they shot him.

Pascalina was infuriated by the news of Cannada's murder, and she told the
Pope exactly how upset she was.

"Holiness, how can you justify your place as Holy Father when people cry out
for help, and you do nothing?" she cried. "When are you going to rid yourself
of your appeasement -mentality and stand strong and brave for what is right?"

She expected him to become angry and defend his failure to act. But he
remained calm, saying only in a somewhat placating tone, "Mother Pascalina,
you are right. You are always right." Pius knew that mere words weren't enough
at this juncture to convince the nun of his sorrow or immediate intentions.
What she took as his insensitive manner only incensed her all the more. Were
it not for her vow of obedience, she would have lashed out with fierce anger,
even though he was the Holy Father.

Fortunately she held her tongue. She was later to learn that Pius had already
set machinery in motion to rid the Church of crime and corruption in Sicily.
Cardinal Ruffini had been called back to Rome by the Pontiff for a dressing
down and an order to end at once the Mafia connection in Sicily.

The next day, when the archbishop of Palermo was seated for the closed-door
confrontation, Pascalina was present at the Holy Father's elbow, upon
instruction by Pius.

"Eminence Ruffini, I have been given a sad account of the alleged behavior of
the Franciscans who are serving in Sicily," the Pope began in a quiet voice.
Pascalina sensed the control he was exercising in containing his anger. "Is
there truth to these rumors?"

The Sicilian prelate looked aghast at the Pope's candor. "Holiness, the
Franciscans are the most numerous of all the orders of Holy Mother Church.
Their followers throughout the world are said to number between four million
and five million Catholics," Ruffini replied, his tone one of injured pride.

It was plain to Pascalina that the cardinal was trying to influence Pius's
thinking by pointing to the Franciscans' numerical strength and the weight
they carried internationally.

"I am fully aware that there are many good and holy priests and monks among
the Franciscans," the Pope retorted, an obvious bite in his words. "I believe
the Franciscan order is as fine as anyone will find anywhere. It is the
behavior of some of our sons serving in Sicily that concerns me."

Pius abruptly came to his feet and glared down at Ruffini. "What do we know of
the murder of that old man, Cannada?" he demanded in a tone seething with
anger.

The cardinal looked horrified. "I do not know what you are talking about,
Holiness!" Ruffini replied, trembling. The nun was uncertain as to whether or
not the prelate was telling the truth. It appeared to her that the Pope was
equally unsure.

"If you are unaware of what is transpiring in your own diocese, Eminence
Ruffini, then it becomes the responsibility of the Holy Father to find out for
himself!" Pius shouted.

Turning then to Pascalina, the Pope spoke in a calmer tone. "I understand the
funeral of the old man, Cannada, takes place tomorrow. Mother, you are to
attend as my observer. I trust your eyes, your ears, and your words," he said
with pointed emphasis. "I shall also send along a representative of the Holy
Father to show the Franciscans of my sincere sorrow for Cannada. My observer
will appear as a symbol to all Sicilians of the Holy See's deep displeasure at
the manner of the old man's death."

The Pontiff turned back to Ruffini. "Eminence, you may leave now," Pius said,
his manner still severe. "The Holy Father suggests that you go directly to the
chapel for meditation. Afterward, return to your province and tell the
Franciscan priests and monks serving in your diocese that they too should
meditate. There will be many questions to be answered by everyone in the near
future!" The Pope raised a pointed finger at the cardinal. "If there are
further crimes in your diocese and any of our clergy are accused, I will hold
you, Ruffini, personally responsible!"

Pascalina had never been more proud and overjoyed as she was at that moment by
Pius's strong and honorable stand. She felt humbled and ashamed, too, of her
own earlier lack of faith in his character.

The instant Ruffini closed the door behind him, she rushed into the Pope's
arms, tears of joy filling her eyes. Pius bent and kissed the nun on the
forehead. It was the first time that his lips had touched her skin with such
intense fervor.

"Holiness, I am so very proud of you!" she said, looking fondly upward into
his eyes.

"I should have acted sooner in this instance," the Pope said sadly, the sorrow
of Cannada's murder evident upon his face.

"Only a great Pontiff has the strength to admit his mistakes," she responded
tenderly.

"A true Pontiff of Christ rectifies his past mistakes," Pius added, releasing
her. "He does so by taking affirmative action in the future."

She felt sure then that the Holy Father meant to do everything possible to
clear the horrible state of Church affairs in Sicily.

Upon Pascalina's arrival in Sicily she found much of the province still living
in the eighteenth century. Violent death was commonplace. The homicide rate in
Palermo, the seat of Cardinal Ruffini's power, had reached the highest in the
world with as many as fifty murders in fifty days. The Italian province, a
Mediterranean island of 9,925 square miles, had become the international
center for heroin traffic, regular shipments pouring in from the Middle East
for processing and shipment to foreign countries, principally the United
States.

Many of the Franciscans were indeed as sinister as the nun had feared. "It was
grotesque!" she said, recalling with anguish the crimes she discovered. "A
Franciscan priest, Padre Carmelo, came to Signore Cannada's widow after the
funeral and demanded three million lire. He was acting in complicity with
Mafia extortionists. The priest told the widow to sell her property in order
to raise the money. If she refused, the same tragic fate her husband had
suffered, he warned, would be met by her son. I begged the woman not to
comply," Pascalina added. "But she was too terrified to listen. Like most
peasants in Sicily, she ended up giving the Franciscan priest everything she
owned."

The nun was so angered by the actions of the Franciscans that she stayed on in
Sicily, with the Pope's approval, to gather all the evidence she could find.
She spoke with numbers of sources, mainly Sicilian peasants, whose lives had
been made intolerable because of the Church-Mafia connection. She learned of
the sufferings imposed by the Franciscans from the family members of the
victims of murder and debauchery and extortion.

With Pius's approval Pascalina presented her evidence to the newly appointed
chief of police of Mazzarino, which had become the center of the Franciscans'
operations. The police official, Maresciallo Di Stefano, had been checked out
by the Vatican and found to be honest and dedicated.

"I explained to Signore Di Stefano that the Church's holy vows were receiving
scant attention from Franciscan priests and monks in his town," Pascalina
said. "I told the police chief that His Holiness implored his help in bringing
the criminals to justice."

"But why doesn't the Holy Father himself act?" Di Stefano asked. "All the Pope
need do is strip these clergy of their vestments and excommunicate them."

"The Holy Father wants justice to be rightfully served," she replied. "Arrest
these clergy! See that they receive a fair trial! If the priests and monks are
convicted, Pius will mete out punishment. They will be defrocked and
excommunicated. You have my word! You have the word of the Pope himself!"

It would be years before the police chief had enough evidence to bring the
Franciscans to trial. No one, in the meantime, had dared come forward to serve
as a witness at the pending proceedings. All who had spoken up were terrorized
afterward by the Sicilian Mafia.

Di Stefano had seen enough to be certain of the crimes. "The Franciscans were
clever operators," he said.

They were the shrewdest of businessmen, and many carried loaded guns, some
even had submachine guns for protection. Their interests ranged from loan
sharking to pornography. Their personal wealth was enormous. Even though they
had taken vows of poverty, most of the priests and monks had millions of lire
stashed in various banks throughout Italy.

As the investigations increased and evidence against the Franciscans mounted,
the Pope grew fearful that their crimes and scandals would shatter the faith
of Catholics and bring terrible disgrace upon Holy Mother Church.

Yet he urged Pascalina to continue her collaboration with the Sicilian police
in helping to bring the criminals to justice. Pius's unrealistic hope was that
everything could be quietly accomplished with no leaks to the outside world.

"The press must never be allowed to publish these diabolical acts by the
Franciscans!" the Pope insisted to the nun. "The faithful everywhere would be
horrified. Their faith in Holy Mother Church would be greatly threatened. Our
dear Lord must not suffer the loss of souls because of the devils among us."

But Pius was to learn that there was no way effectively to silence the world
press if the Franciscans were brought to trial. The papacy had been spoiled
over the years by Vatican correspondents and other religious writers who took
their direction from Church higher-ups, publishing nothing that might anger
Rome.

It was quite another story, however, when it came to sensational court
testimony. Not only would such news be in the public domain, but the papacy
feared an onslaught of visceral attacks by anti-Catholic journalists who'd
like nothing better than to discredit Catholicism. Pius and Pascalina were all
too aware of this significant sector of the press that remained alert to
"humiliate Holy Mother Church and drag down the House of God."

After weighing all the potential dangers, Pius apparently thought the Holy See
would be better served by a complete about-face on his part. The Pope
considerably toned down his righteous stand and turned the full force of
Vatican influence toward delaying prosecution of the Franciscans.

"In the remaining years of Pius's papacy, Mother Pascalina did everything she
possibly could to have the Holy Father uphold the papacy's pledge to support
the Sicilian authorities in their investigations of the Franciscans,"
Archbishop Richard J. Cushing noted at the time.

But her hands were tied in many ways. Even though Pascalina was very close to
the Pope for most of her life, she was still looked upon as a mere nun at
times, even by Pius himself. On any issue as explosive as the Franciscan
crimes in Sicily, Church clergy maintain an inbred, prejudiced mentality which
is entirely convinced that the male mind is right in the final analysis, and
must never yield to female pressure. Pius was certainly a pope with that kind
of intellect.

Cushing further blamed Cardinal Spellman as being largely responsible for
putting the brakes on the prosecution of the Franciscans. The prelates had
known each other for many years. As young priests, they were roommates at the
rectory of the Holy Cross Cathedral in Boston. Upon the death of Cardinal
O'Connell in 1944, Spellman used his influence with Pius XI I to have Cushing
named O'Connell's successor as archbishop of Boston. A falling-out between the
pair occurred shortly afterward when Cushing, a towering, roughspoken Boston
Irishman who once worked as a laborer building streetcar rails, refused to
knuckle under to Spellman's seniority and authority.

"Spellman saw the Catholic mind, especially in the United States, as
exceedingly fragile in matters of faith," Cushing explained.

He dealt largely with the upper crust, those we used to call 'lace curtain
Catholics'; rich executives who lived up in the clouds, and, like so many
Catholic women, had as much touch with reality as a Persian cat. Spellman's
fear was that if most Catholics thought their priests did anything worse than
forget to say the rosary every hour on the hour, they'd drop dead of shock.

It wasn't until four years after Pius died in 1958, and when John XXIII
reigned as pope, that the Franciscans were brought to trial in Sicily. Even
under the beloved and holy John, the power of the papacy was clearly at work.
Though a number of the priests and monks were charged with a variety of
serious crimes, including murder, attempted murder, and extortion, all were
found innocent. The world press, with few exceptions, entirely ignored the
sensational trials. When news did appear, the Franciscans attempted to be made
out as scapegoats and innocent victims of persecution.

"John had a far more effective way of dealing with the news media than Pius,"
Cushing explained. "In many ways, John was the shrewder of the two. His
humble, rather beguiling manner won people over far more effectively than
Pius's cold and direct authoritarian words.

"Misguided liberals, especially those of the news media, hated Pius for his
silence on the Nazis' persecutions of the Jews," Cushing continued.

They looked upon Pius as a devil, while they were quick to make John a saint,
often simply because he seemed just the opposite to Pius. They were wrong in
both instances. Neither pope was as good nor as bad as he was painted. In many
ways, they differed only slightly, except in style. But the liberal news media
could not see this. I can't say that Pope John muzzled the media, because I
-have no such evidence. But it was certainly strange that such sensational
crimes by the clergy were so ignored.

At no time did Pascalina lose sight of the continuing crimes by clergy of her
own faith. In 1963, a year after the Franciscans were exonerated, her prayers
were finally answered. Each of the previously indicted priests and monks was
hauled back into court on appeal by the prosecution. Their earlier verdicts
were overturned. This time they were found guilty of all charges, and each was
sentenced to serve thirteen years in prison.

When asked to comment on the shocking crimes and the conviction of his
priests, Father Sebastiano, the provincial of the Capuchin order in Sicily,
took a calm, philosophical view. "Even among us, somebody sometimes makes
mistakes," he said.

Throughout the years Pascalina kept trying to fathom the seemingly
imponderable mysteries of Pius's mind; particularly why he had made such a
complete about-face during the Church-Mafia connection. "At times, Holiness
would be fully dedicated to a cause, as he first was in his desire to end
crime by the clergy in Sicily," she recalled. "Frequently, he would then
procrastinate; he would dwell upon the harm that might result from some bold
stand on his part. Sadly, he would often alter his whole course of action." As
she reflected on the long-gone past, Pascalina paused to weigh her own
thoughts. "Pius was a holy man," she resumed with a nod of positive assurance,
"but unfortunately, like so many of us, he, too, was misguided on occasion."

pps. 231- 243
-----
Aloha, He'Ping,
Om, Shalom, Salaam.
Em Hotep, Peace Be,
Omnia Bona Bonis,
All My Relations.
Adieu, Adios, Aloha.
Amen.
Roads End
Kris

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