An American Pope

by Doug Walker

  But instead the good cardinal said he respected Black’s opinion and that Justin Scott seemed to be a solid candidate.

  “There is no age hurdle to jump, and we all know the candidate doesn’t even have to be Catholic. Scott sounds like a very good Catholic and has been exposed to the mass as an altar boy. He would seem to be in robust good health and in the flush of life. Just the sort of person we need to carry out the duties of pope in a vigorous, youthful fashion. No more doddering old men with poor eyesight who cannot walk without assistance.

  “Then let me speak to what has been raised as a potential problem. That as pope he might serve for sixty years. If he is a good pope, no problem. He would be the much loved, much respected shepherd figure at the age of ninety-two, tending his worldwide sheep. What are his chances of serving into his ninety-second year? I would say none at all.

  “Men die. Men fall ill and leave this life for a better land, I’m sure. Organs fail and carry us off. Some meet with accidents, some are assassinated.” This last form of mortal demise was met with a murmuring among the cardinals. “Yes, assassinated. Let’s face it as a price of rising to high office, be it in the Vatican, or as the head of a troubled nation. I say we take a chance and heed the sign from above and elect this youthful American. I say we move forward with courage in our hearts. History will record us as heroes, or devious villains. But history will record us, and the eyes of the world will be on the Vatican. This is our moment. Let us seize it without a backward glance. The incident with the German woman was crafted by the hand of the Almighty!”

  With that Giovanni sat down and there seemed to be a ripple of new life among the cardinals.

  Black rose to his feet. “I say we vote. My man’s name is Justin Scott for those who may have not noted it.”

  The vote was taken, the results tallied. Scott carried the day by a margin of 52 percent. The world had a new pope, a thirty-two-year-old American with little, make that no, experience as a church leader. Now Cardinal Black must break the news to Scott. What a moment. Then would come investment ceremonies, press conferences, criticism, scorn and lord knows what else might follow.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Black was keenly aware that major challenges lay ahead of him. The popular Cardinal Piovanelli had become his ally, but it was a shaky alliance at best. The thought that the good cardinal had something up his scarlet sleeve was mildly troubling, but larger worries loomed dead ahead.

  For one thing he had to inform Justin Scott that he had been elected pope and hope that the American would take the news calmly. He and Piovanelli had convinced the conclave to wait three days before announcing Scott’s name. Of course the public was well aware that a pope had been elected. There had been the smoke, plus the ringing of bells.

  Vatican watchers were aware of the handful of favorites. And bets were down in Las Vegas and London on Piovanelli with slim odds. But who could have pictured a dark horse, coming from behind and overtaking the entire field of cardinals who generally expected to elevate one of their own to that high office.

  What an upset! A Cinderella story in the flesh. The press on every continent would eat it up. Catholics worldwide would have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Black would make certain the hand of God received top billing.

  In fact it was the hand of God syndrome that convinced Scott that he had been elected pope and must show the proper decorum, respect and aloofness that the office required. This after two hours of badgering, begging, threatening and bullying.

  After accepting the inevitable, Scott’s mood seemed serene, and he calmly told Black, “I have a girlfriend in the States. Will I be able to see her?”

  To which Black replied, “Holy Christ. If it gets out the pope has a girlfriend we’ll all be damned to hell and back. She’ll talk, won’t she, once she reads your name in the paper, or sees it on TV.”

  “I would think she might mention it.”

  Black’s mind was in a conflicted jumble. This he should have anticipated. They had been warned about young men and their love life. It was playing out before his eyes in this very room.

  “We can handle this,” the cardinal said. “We can bring her over here. She can live in the Vatican. This is more than just a passing bimbo, isn’t it Justin? I mean there’s a strong tie between you two?”

  “Yes, I’m thirty-two and she’s about the same age. We’re past that playful bouncing from one hook-up to another stage. We’ve talked marriage.”

  “Then I‘m certain I can fix it. She may have to join a holy order.”

  “That might be difficult. We’ve never talked about religion.”

  “Talked or didn’t talk, you’re in it up to your eyeballs now. Remember what this will mean to North and South America and even as far as Asia. An American pope. A young man as pope.”

  “If I’m pope now, shouldn’t I dress as the pope? And maybe you could address me with some sort of title.”

  “Don’t be a pretentious ass. You will be installed as pope in an open air mass in St. Peter’s Square. To me you’re always going to be Justin in private. And if you step out of line I’ll kick your holy ass. Now you must think of a name for yourself. I’ll bring you a stack of reading material about past popes, procedures, history and so forth. You give me your girlfriend’s phone number and I’ll call her and see what I can do.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Her name was Sylvia and she answered on the third ring.

  “Sylvia, my name’s John Black and I have a message for you from Justin Scott. Are you alone?”

  “Has Justin been hurt?”

  “No, he’s fine. But my news may startle you. It’s important that you be alone when I tell you.”

  “That’s a bit odd, John. But OK. I’m alone in my apartment and I wondered what happened to Justin. We usually keep in close touch. He said he was going to Rome, but only for a few days.”

  Black chuckled. “You might say he’s found a home in Rome. But that’s why I called.”

  Agitation entered Sylvia’s voice. “You mean he’s not coming back?”

  Black was quick to tamp down the flare-up. “He loves you Sylvia. He wants you to join him in his new life. He has money, status, everything you might work years to obtain.”

  Sylvia seemed to be losing patience. “You talk in riddles. This isn’t like Justin.”

  “There is really no good way to break the news,” Black said. “So I’ll come out with it. He’s been elected pope by the College of Cardinals, or the see of cardinals, whatever. He was involved in a religious miracle, and the church authorities decided after much deliberation to elect an American pope.”

  Silence, then finally the words. “That’s the head of the Catholic church, isn’t it?”

  “Yes it is. A great honor, a rise to great honor and nobility, Something quite unexpected.”

  “I’ll say unexpected. Is this some sort of prank? Is Justin there with you?”

  “Sylvia, this is no prank, no joke. I’m a cardinal myself, an officer of the church, and I’m deadly serious. You may know Catholics in the ministry, including the pope, are celibate. They cannot have wives. However this doesn’t mean you two can’t be together.”

  “This phone call gets stranger all the time. OK, tell me the rest. I’m listening.”

  “To live in the Vatican near Justin, you would have to become a nun.”

  “You mean wear one of those long black dresses and pray a lot?”

  Obviously, Sylvia wasn’t totally acquainted with religious orders. “Not all nuns wear that sort of thing and not all of them pray excessively. They have regular jobs. We’d find some light work for you. Are you Catholic?”

  A short laugh came over the phone. “I’m Jewish.”

  Black’s eyes widened and he thought, “Holy shit.” But he said, “We can take care of that. You’d have to become a Catholic and then become a nun. It would be a quick process.”

  “And what if I said no,” she replied coldly.

  “Then i
t’s all over between you and Justin. He can never see you again. You’ll be known as the pope’s ex-girlfriend.”

  Another long silence. “But we’re in love.”

  Black wondered if she really knew anything about romantic love, or if anyone does. He certainly didn’t. “Well, you must decide.”

  “I think I’ll do it. But it will take me a few days to get ready. Then what do I do, fly to Rome?”

  “Absolutely not. Under this plan no one must know that the pope has a girlfriend and that she will be joining him in the Vatican. You probably have friends who know your relationship with Justin and they will also learn that he will soon be installed as pope. What you must do is tell a close friend or family member that you have been depressed and are moving out of state to start a new life.”

  “Where shall I say I’m going?”

  “Tell whoever it is who will tell others that you may settle in New Orleans, or Seattle, or San Diego.”

  “Why those three places? I’m not keen on any of them.”

  “OK, tell them Chicago, South Bend or Denver,” Black was losing patience. “Tell them anything you want. But I’ll have a car pick you up in one hour. Pack only one small bag. Tell your friend you’ll leave your place open and that she or he can have all your possessions or save some for you. But the church will meet all your worldly needs and beyond.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “It’s insane, but we must whisk you away to a convent before the world knows Justin has been elected pope. Later on, after a few months, you can contact your friends again. This isn’t a witness protection program. All of your needs will be provided for in the Vatican.”

  “Even contraception?”

  “Let’s stay off that slippery slope. One hour, Sylvia, a car with very understanding people will pick you up.”

  “And where will it take me?”

  “Have faith. Answers will come in the fullness of time.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Black next turned his attention to installing Justin as pope. He would try to ignore the tornado of media attention, whiplash and backlash of such a departure from the norm of centuries. The event ultimately took place in an open-air mass in St. Peter’s Square. There the new pope was presented with the symbols of power, the Papal ring and the pallium, a narrow stole of white wool.

  Justin had studied the names of past popes and for himself picked the name Pope Leo XIV. The previous Pope Leo, Pope Leo XIII, was an intellectual and forward-thinking individual known for encouraging a rapprochement between religion and science and for reconciling the Catholic Church with the working class.

  His true name was Vincenzo Gioacchino Raffaele Luigi Pecci and was the sixth of seven sons of Count Ludovico Pecci and his wife Anna Prosperi Buzzi. Pope Pius IX appointed him Camerlengo in 1877, and when Pius IX died one year later, Camerlengo Pecci was elected pope. He lived from 1810 until 1903.

  Although Justin Scott was a serious-minded scholar, he picked the name Leo because he was born in late July under that particular astrological sign. At Black’s urging, he confined himself to a simple blessing of the masses jamming the square on that memorable day plus a few words. The service, which took more than an hour, began with the new pope leading a procession of cardinals to the site of St. Peter’s tomb underneath St. Peter’s Basilica to pray.

  Justin was turned out in a gold robe over sacred white vestments. Emerging into St. Peter’s Square to the cheers of thousands, many of them Americans, a choir sang Laudes Regiae, a litany calling for divine assistance for the new pontiff.

  After blessing the assembly, Pope Leo XIV ventured that he would rely on the guidance of the Almighty with the help of the many cardinals, bishops and other church officers, but that he would also be open to the views of every Catholic and non-Catholic in the world.

  Black, who was standing just behind the new pope, managed to poke him and cut him off at that point, thus a signal for the popular Cardinal Piovanelli to take center stage with praises for the piety of the new pope, the innovative and creative thrust of the cardinals in their wisdom and the church in its unbroken history and future outlook, rooted on the solid rock of St, Peter.

  The good cardinal exhibited his linguistic skills during his speech, switching easily from one language to another, eventually piling up four modern languages plus Latin and a phrase or two of ancient Greek.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Victor Greene, Rome bureau New York Times correspondent, had demanded an interview with Pope Leo XIV, but Cardinal Black put him off and instead agreed to a nose-to-nose talk.

  Greene, an older man in a trim three-piece suit, arrived at Black’s office with both a notepad, recorder and female secretary. Black guessed the reporter was nearing retirement and had been put out to pasture in one of the more interesting cities that was quite thin on breaking news. The cardinal objected to the female secretary and managed to dig up an obliging nun to show her around the Vatican while the two men talked.

  “Why are you shielding the new pope?” Greene demanded.

  “We are talking here about an act of God, Mr. Greene. The hand of the Good Shepherd reached out and touched the good Pope Leo. He is not a sophisticated or veteran officer of the church. Instead he might be called a Christ figure, age-wise you will note, that applies.”

  “So how can he handle the duties of the pope?” Greene questioned.

  “That is relatively simple, Mr. Greene. We have a competent staff and have always had one. You will recall that many popes have been old timers with failing health, memory slipping, the lord knows what else. The staff steps in. In Pope Leo’s case it’s a learning curve. He knows the mass, he knows people, he’s young, healthy, and has a fine mind. And we believe he was chosen by God. Surely, you’re a man of faith.”

  “My faith only stretches so far. The Catholic Church is very likely bigger than Wal-Mart, bigger than General Motors. I could go on. As far as riches and property go. You’ve placed a thirty-two-year-old student at the head of this vast empire. Is that wise?”

  “The church moves on from century to century. Of course it is fueled by faith and money. But what of your immortal soul? And I must return again to the Jesus theory. A thirty-two-year-old man, tapped by God.”

  “But not fathered by God.”

  “You will find comfort in prayer, Mr. Greene. With pro and con interviews in addition to statements from the Vatican, you will have more than enough material for a large book and a series of films. Now I must attend to my duties. The spiritual life beckons.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A startled world took to Pope Leo XIV with a gasp and a cheer, with the exception of the skeptics who gasped, but had little to cheer about. Cardinal Piovanelli, an early supporter credited with the making of the pope, was in his glory, appearing on talk shows, jetting hither and yon. A fairly new American cardinal (who will remain nameless) who had the looks of a schoolyard bully made no secret of his displeasure. If there was to be an American pope, why not him? How he ever bulled his way to become cardinal was somewhat of a mystery.

  In the U.S. the new pope’s creation was something like the second coming of Elvis, or the resurrection of John Wayne. Fan clubs were formed and the young and middle aged swarmed the churches as if a great treasure hunt had been announced.

  The interest washed over Canada, Central and South America. Even Asia stood up and took notice. China vowed to relax restrictions and possibly readmit foreign clergy. All religions seemed to benefit.

  In the Vatican Cardinals Black and Piovanelli joined force as the keepers of the nascent pope. Neither of the two cardinals fully trusted one another. Justin thought the two might seek to kiss his attractive golden ring, known as the Fisherman’s Ring, with an image of St. Peter in a boat, fishing. It served as his papal seal.

  Neither cardinal ever attempted such an act, although visitors from around the globe performed the ritual, always the briefest of audiences, always attended by the two cardinals. But for the most
part, Justin was a happy camper, busy with religious duties, being fed and feted like an Arabian prince. He was beginning to miss a lack of exercise.

  Justin was no dummy. Keenly aware of his power, he knew he could have the two cardinals sent away if it pleased him. He was also aware that they were his lifelines if he wanted to prosper in his present position. Between the two of them they would make an excellent pope. Black was open and aboveboard about all things, straight talking and to the point. Justin sensed a deeper, more sinister current in Piovanelli, possibly a hidden agenda.

  As far as a regime of exercise went, Justin realized he was in the driver’s seat.

  “I want a regular routine of exercise and you might toss in a personal trainer,” Justin told his two keepers.

  “There’s a gym, but it’s used by younger priests and some staff people.” Piovanelli replied. “You can’t mix with those people. You’re definitely not one of the boys.”

  “Popes just sit and look wise,” Black added. “As far as food and wine goes, you’re the boss. We can bring in different chefs, you can flip through gourmet magazines looking for likely dishes. The world is your oyster.”

  “I’ve had too many oysters and too much wine and rich foods. I’m starting to paunch out.”

  “Not bad for a pope,” Piovanelli said. “Most of them have been on the chunky side.”

  “But I don’t want to be a chunky monkey,” Justin said. “Exercise is a must. Maybe I’ll be the first pope able to run a four-minute mile. Or at least a five-, six- or seven-minute mile. This is not negotiable. I want exercise space with the usual devices, a hot tub, a sauna and a steam room. You two can feel free to join me.”

  “What you ask for is out of the ordinary,” Black pointed out.

  “Let’s face it, I’m not an ordinary pope. I can’t even say mass. My Italian and Latin are incredibly bad.”