The Kennedys

by Thomas Maier

  Despite his rabid attacks on FDR, Coughlin managed to keep a warm spot for Joe Kennedy, whom he called “the shining star among the dim ‘knights’ of the Administration.”With a strained smile on his face, Kennedy tried to woo Coughlin at the president’s instruction. “Thanks for all the kind things you are saying about me,” Kennedy wrote back to the priest in August 1936. “I feel like the fellow on his vacation who sends the postal card to his friends saying, ‘Wish you were with us.’” By then, however, Roosevelt decided that he could no longer ignore or graciously dismiss Coughlin and his corrosive impact on the electorate. With Kennedy as the architect, a plan would soon be launched to silence the troublesome priest.

  FOR YEARS, Joe Kennedy’s family had cultivated its ties with Cardinal O’Connell. But by the mid-1930s, Kennedy realized that another figure in the Boston diocese possessed even more clout with the Vatican— Bishop Spellman, who served under O’Connell. Spellman spent several years studying as a priest in Rome at the North American College, a training seminary, where he learned the byzantine ways of the Vatican power structure. When he returned to Boston in 1932, Spellman, an Irish Catholic from Massachusetts who had graduated from the Jesuit-run Fordham University in New York, hoped to ascend quickly through the church hierarchy. O’Connell disliked him immediately, sensing the young prelate’s overweening ambition. In many respects, the two churchmen were very much alike—authoritarian by nature, delighted by publicity, raconteurs of power and money in their expressed mission to build their church. After Joe Kennedy’s family moved to New York, Spellman came to his attention, and the two men became friendly.“In Spellman he found a churchman who met him on his own terms,” noted Spellman’s biographer, John Cooney. “Neither man minded being used by the other, as long as they both benefited.” Although O’Connell’s public statements against Coughlin were important, Kennedy realized that Spellman could be even more effective as a behind-the-scenes agent in the effort to stop the radio priest.

  Spellman’s chief source of power in the Vatican was Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli, the Vatican’s secretary of state, a smart, sophisticated man who held a strong antipathy toward communism. Many observers—including Spellman, who first met him in 1927—believed quite correctly that Pacelli would someday become Pope. The fifty-year-old career Vatican diplomat was impressed with the shrewd, calculating mind of the younger American, and admired Spellman’s ability to maneuver through the Vatican bureau cracy to get things done. While Spellman was in Rome, he became a close confidant of Pacelli’s, saying Mass with him and traveling across the countryside to visit churches and convents. Spellman also developed good friendships with two top Pacelli aides, Mother Pascalina, a nun who oversaw Pacelli’s household, and Count Enrico Galeazzi, a layman often called a “Vatican architect,” but more accurately described as Pacelli’s top administrator. Within a year of his return to America, Spellman introduced Galeazzi to Joe Kennedy; the two would share a long friendship and correspondence lasting for nearly thirty years.

  Often hidden from public view, Count Galeazzi, a thin, balding man with a slight mustache and a Continental air, knew all the confidences in Pacelli’s life. His half brother, Ricardo Galeazzi-Lisi, an eye specialist, became Pacelli’s personal physician, even though many thought of him as a quack. When Pacelli became Pope Pius XII, Galeazzi-Lisi was appointed the Vatican’s doctor. (At one point in his career, an Italian court ordered Galeazzi-Lisi to pay the equivalent of more than $10,000 to colleagues who improperly drafted medical articles under his name. He was later expelled from several medical societies for his improper actions, and roundly criticized and fined for selling deathbed accounts when Puis XII died, including selling photographs of the dead pontiff to the press.) Nevertheless, even if his half brother’s medical skills were dubious, Count Galeazzi’s skills at Vatican intrigue were beyond reproach. His influence with the new Pope proved invaluable. As a key financial advisor, Galeazzi oversaw matters involving the Vatican bank and important church projects, and acted as a discreet diplomat for the Holy See with other nations. He’d become a top official in the Knights of Columbus, the large Catholic fraternal organization with hundreds of chapters around the world. The Kennedys marveled at his insider’s knowledge and ability to get things done without being noticed. Decades later, on a 1961 trip to Rome, Ted Kennedy observed Galeazzi’s skills up close. He described them in admiring detail to the president:“ Jack, our problem is not lack of ideas, but lack of good men to carry them out,”Teddy urged.“Let’s look for more Galeazzis.”

  For nearly twenty years, the count remained the liaison between the Vatican and those in America, such as Spellman and Kennedy, who had committed themselves to protecting Pacelli and the church’s interests. Churchmen in America who didn’t have a relationship with Galeazzi, including Cardinal O’Connell, didn’t have much influence in Rome. Both Spellman and Kennedy knew how to plant an idea or a recommendation with Galeazzi that would mysteriously become a papal decree or initiative. In 1936, both men became the key brokers in putting together a deal between the president of the United States and the future Pope.

  BEFORE BOARDING the liner Conte di Savoia in the port of Naples, Cardinal Pacelli explained the intent of his trip to the United States.“I am going to America simply on a vacation,” he told the press on September 30, 1936. “There is no political aspect to my trip whatever.” Few accepted Pacelli’s statement on face value. On both sides of the Atlantic, newspapers speculated about the real reasons for Pacelli’s visit, the first time such a high-ranking Vatican official had ever arrived on American shores. With Pope Pius XI in his seventies and in poor health, Pacelli could only be leaving Rome for a serious reason. As the New York Times suggested, Pacelli’s mission would “separate the Vatican’s responsibilities from Father Coughlin and prove to the world that the Catholic Church as a body is in no way hostile to the policies with which President Roosevelt is identified.”

  On the same day Pacelli departed from Italy, Spellman met secretly at the White House with President Roosevelt, who lambasted Coughlin and the church officials who had allowed him to run amok. In the midst of a difficult reelection campaign, Roosevelt believed the steady drumbeat of criticism from Coughlin’s broadcast—calling Roosevelt a “liar,” an “anti-God” and a Communist—would cost him thousands of Catholic votes, an essential part of the New Deal’s political coalition. Spellman explained that the church could not be seen as taking sides in an American presidential election. However, Spellman confirmed what Joe Kennedy had already indicated to the president on the telephone: Pacelli would be willing to meet Roosevelt during his extended tour and make a genuine effort to repair whatever damage existed with the administration. Press reports of Pacelli’s plans with Roosevelt, an implicit sign of Vatican support for the president in the upcoming election, sent an important public message to Catholics in America.

  Right after his meeting with the president, Spellman rushed to contact Pacelli on the liner, still far out in the ocean, and relayed Roosevelt’s deep concerns. Pacelli implored Spellman to keep everything quiet and not speak to the press. Joe Kennedy, working on Roosevelt’s behalf, went to Washington in early October to finalize the arrangements for Pacelli’s meeting. Though not quoted in any accounts, Kennedy was likely a source in the news accounts underlining the church’s concerns about Coughlin. “The campaign looks to me distinctly Roosevelt, but it will be by no means an easy fight,” Kennedy wrote that month to Robert Worth Bingham, the wealthy publisher of the Louisville Courier who was then serving as Roosevelt’s ambassador to the Court of St. James. “Father Coughlin has definitely made bother [sic] in the states that we need to carry, and the Communist cry has been raised rather successfully among the Catholics, I believe to the damage of Roosevelt.”

  The president knew he could count on Kennedy. Having just ended his stint at the Securities and Exchange Commission,Kennedy was momentarily back in private life, so his actions were less likely to be traced directly to the White House. More than
any Catholic in the administration, Kennedy possessed an insider’s knowledge of the church’s power structure. He wisely set up the secret meeting for the president with Spellman, still only an auxiliary bishop, because of his special ties to Pacelli. To the chagrin of O’Connell and other U.S. church figures, Pacelli had indicated that he preferred working with Spellman, who leaped at the offer to act as the cardinal’s guide to America. He never strayed from Pacelli’s side during his monthlong visit. Kennedy served as an important booster for Spellman by helping to overcome whatever reservations Roosevelt still retained about the often pushy prelate. (During World War I, Roosevelt, as assistant secretary of war, had refused to grant a chaplaincy to Spellman, then a young priest in Boston, because of his brashness.) With a foot in both camps, Kennedy acted as a broker between Spellman’s orders from Rome and Roosevelt’s own demands from the White House.

  THE VATICAN knew how to drive a hard bargain as well. During his trip, Pacelli sought an important concession from the United States government. He wanted Roosevelt to appoint a U.S. representative to the Vatican, the same way in which thirty-five countries—some predominantly Catholic and some not—were represented, including Great Britain and Japan. Despite its large Catholic population, the United States refused for long-standing political reasons to send an envoy. To Joe Kennedy and Bishop Spellman, this absence was a painful reminder of the depths of anti- Catholic sentiment in America.“To the American Catholic it seemed that his government was avoiding the normal course of action at the dictation of bigotry,” recalled the Reverend Robert Gannon, a president of Fordham University, in his authorized biography of Spellman.

  From the Revolutionary War until 1847—a time when Catholics were an insignificant portion of America’s population—the U.S. government had sent consuls and counsels general to the papal states with little political repercussion. In 1847, the American government raised the appointment to a legation, complete with a chargé d’affaires. But during this period, the Know-Nothing movement, spurred by the huge influx of Irish and other Catholic immigrants, altered the American government’s view of the church. When President Franklin Pierce was asked to accept a Vatican-appointed nuncio in Washington, D.C., anti-Catholic sentiment prevailed and Pierce refused. After the Civil War, Congress refused any further funding for a U.S. representative at the Vatican. For the next seven decades, a U.S. representative at the Vatican was too provocative for any Congress or president to consider seriously.

  With Europe’s worsening political condition in the 1930s, the Vatican was determined to overcome America’s isolationist mood and improve the church’s relationship with the U.S. government. The Soviet Union’s Communist revolution and the rising tide of Bolshevism routing and dismantling churches across the Ukraine and other places of Russian influence had greatly alarmed the Vatican. As a way of building its own strength in a troubled time, Pacelli attempted to secure diplomatic relations with every nation in which a sizeable number of Catholics lived, signing concordats even with Hitler’s Nazi Germany. These diplomatic agreements were viewed in Rome as a vital shield against communism. Upon his return to America, Spellman lobbied hard with sympathetic supporters about the need for stronger ties with Rome and convinced Joe Kennedy to bring the Vatican matter personally to Roosevelt’s attention. While planning their strategy, both Spell-man and Kennedy kept in contact with Galeazzi, the unofficial voice for Pacelli. To their delight, Kennedy reported back that Roosevelt was receptive, and they should try to work out a meeting in which their mutual interests could be settled. Negotiations were carried on during Pacelli’s visit. By October 24, 1936, Kennedy had convinced the White House to invite Pacelli to the president’s Hyde Park home in upstate New York for a visit on November 5, immediately after Election Day. As a matter of protocol, Spellman suggested that Roosevelt issue a formal luncheon invitation. The White House agreed to do so, even though the Vatican was not recognized as an independent state. It was a coup for Joe Kennedy. By successfully arranging this historic meeting between the church and the American government, he had ended a century-long breach.

  UP ALONG the Hudson River, a private railroad car arranged by Kennedy carried Cardinal Pacelli and his official entourage to Hyde Park, including Spellman, Galeazzi and Kennedy’s wife, Rose. The crisp, clear autumn air, the spectacle of leaves turning crimson and gold along the Catskill Mountains, and the high spirits from Roosevelt’s overwhelming reelection victory earlier in the week filled the railcar with great expectations.

  Rose Kennedy remembered the ride to Hyde Park as a poignant personal journey, keenly aware of being in the likely presence of the next Pope. Pacelli’s appearance was striking to Rose. Physically, he was a thin, average-sized man “of rather dark and sallow complexion and dark eyes behind rimmed spectacles set on a Roman nose,” she recalled. But Pacelli’s demeanor and his preference for wearing flowing red cardinal’s robes rather than a simple black suit and Roman collar, added to his aura. When the train stopped at Hyde Park, where limousines were waiting to take them to the president’s house, Pacelli took time out to greet hundreds of schoolchildren waving American and papal flags. Pacelli ministered the Sign of the Cross, smiled and patted the children on the head.“He was not a handsome man, yet his eyes shone with such intensity and compassion, in his bearing there was an unearthly sense of important purpose that I truly felt I was in the presence of a mortal who was very close to God,” Rose recalled.

  At Hyde Park, the entourage was greeted by Roosevelt and his mother, Sara Delano Roosevelt, who acted as a hostess in first lady Eleanor Roosevelt’s absence. All the servants in the Roosevelt home who were Catholic were given the privilege of meeting Pacelli and, on their bended knees, of receiving the cardinal’s blessing. Outside the door, a gaggle of reporters begged Pacelli for a comment. The American press accorded Pacelli far more publicity than a visiting Catholic clergyman had ever before received. Spellman barked and shooed them away like an anxious guard dog. Near a large fireplace at the far end of the house’s great living room, the American president and the Vatican secretary of state chatted alone for more than an hour, a dialogue that dealt with the problem of Father Coughlin as well as the church’s desire for a U.S. representative in Rome.

  The results of their talks soon became apparent. On the same day of the visit, Coughlin announced that he’d no longer continue his radio broadcasts, attributing his decision to Roosevelt’s huge electoral victory and not a directive from church officials. But years later, Coughlin admitted he’d been silenced. “Cardinal Pacelli visited America and had conversations with our high government officials, which conversations could be regarded as a type of informal pact,” Coughlin wrote to Spellman’s biographer, Father Gannon, in a 1954 letter.“Small as I was, it was necessary to silence my voice.” However, it would take a long time for that promise to be fully realized.

  On the way back from Hyde Park, Cardinal Pacelli stopped for tea at the Kennedy home in Bronxville. The visit was the most tangible public expression of thanks Pacelli could make to someone who had done the church’s bidding. Rose and the children were thrilled, and Joe beamed with pride. Outside their home, the cardinal spoke with some of the neighbors and “prominent citizens of New York” who came to greet him. When he entered, Pacelli blessed the house and conversed in French with the older Kennedy children. Relaxing in the Kennedy living room, Pacelli sat on a sofa and little Ted Kennedy, then four years old, wandered over and sat on the cardinal’s lap. Teddy played with the large pectoral cross hanging from a long chain around the cardinal’s neck, and everyone, including Pacelli, was amused.“He had a wonderful way with little children, and he loved them, I believe, as Jesus did,” Rose remembered. “I have regretted that we didn’t have a camera in the house at the time to record the scene.” For many years after, the sofa where Pacelli had rested became a venerated treasure, and was eventually moved to the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port. “No one was allowed to sit on it because that’s where the Pope once sat,” Joseph Gargan,
Rose’s nephew, recalled fondly.

  Shortly after the presidential visit, Pacelli left for Rome aboard a ship. A week after this departure, Spellman informed Pacelli about Kennedy’s follow-up discussions with the White House. Clearly, the church had responded to Roosevelt’s concerns about Father Coughlin, and they were determined to make sure the historic promise of a U.S. representative at the Vatican also came true. As Spellman entered in his diary:“Wrote letter to Cardinal Pacelli that Joe Kennedy had conversation with President Roosevelt and the President had practically determined to recognize the Vatican. This conversation was held at my suggestion and request.” At month’s end, Spellman vacationed in Florida at the Kennedys’ Palm Beach winter home, as a guest of his new and powerful friend.

  FOR JOE KENNEDY, the Cardinal Pacelli visit showed Roosevelt his ability to wend his way through the thorniest assignment. He had cemented his status within the church, no longer just through financial contributions, but by boosting his friend Spellman’s stature with Roosevelt and cultivating his own relationship with Pacelli. Kennedy and Spellman realized tremendous benefits from the success of Pacelli’s trip. In influence, Spellman leaped over his superior, Cardinal William O’Connell, emerging, thanks to Kennedy, as the favored Catholic clergyman consulted by the White House on policy issues. Spellman rose swiftly through the American church’s hierarchy, his sights set on its most valued prize, and soon reaped his reward. In early 1939, Joe Kennedy called to tell Spellman about receiving a Vatican honor for his service to the Pope. As they talked, Kennedy assured him not to worry about his own future. “Enrico is in there fighting for you all the time,” Kennedy said. Less than a month later, in April 1939, Spellman was chosen to lead the New York archdiocese, a selection made by Pacelli as Pope Pius XII.