“I think he was virtually a prisoner in the Retreat. No visitors-not even a priest. I tried to see him and couldn’t. That was almost unheard of … I mean, I’ve been admitted to hospital rooms where the patient is so ill a spouse is denied entry.”
“No one knew what was happening to him?”
“Sure. Guys in the chancery knew. The seminary faculty was kept informed. Of course both those groups could be very close-mouthed about things. And in Vinnie’s case they were. I was eager to find out what was happening. But I didn’t have a clue … until the meeting.”
Koesler had been sitting too long. He got up and started pacing.
“What meeting? What happened?”
“The meeting was the second Sunday after Easter, at St. John’s Seminary. The rector and his faculty; Monsignor Jake Donovan from the Detroit chancery; Father Walsh-as Delvecchio’s pastor; Bobby Bear, Vincent’s psychiatrist; and I-at Walsh’s invitation.” Koesler was silent for a moment. “Seems they had been treating Vince with electroshock.”
Tully shuddered. “They used that a lot back then, didn’t they …”
Koesler nodded. “With a lot of therapists it was the treatment of choice. And then, much more than now, being confined in a sanatorium was almost a badge of shame that was difficult to live down. Especially if you were a seminarian. They had awfully tight standards then: Any deformity or questionable health could be cause for dismissal. If this had happened to just about any other seminarian, it would have been curtains for his vocation.
“But Vincent Delvecchio was not your run-of-the-mill candidate. The chancery had plans for Delvecchio. So the top brass had a bad case of mixed emotions. Thus the meeting …”
“I know the outcome,” Tully broke in. “They kept him in the seminary and ordained him. But I don’t exactly know why. I mean, I know it’s really rough when someone very close dies. But … catatonia? That sure would make me wonder …”
“Not so rare. A long time ago Detroit had an auxiliary bishop whose mother died at a very old age. And that bishop’s reaction almost set the standard for Vince’s. In time, the bishop got over it and functioned again. The difference here was that the precedent incident involved a bishop, whereas Vince was still a seminarian. What can you do with a bishop who’s gone haywire? Whatever else happens, he remains a bishop. But a seminarian? He has a breakdown, he can be dumped. Ordain him and you’ve created a problem that could haunt the diocese for as long as the illness continues … maybe for the sick priest’s entire life.
“And, I can assure you: If it hadn’t been Delvecchio, he would’ve been dumped even though he had already been ordained a deacon. They would just have applied for a laicization. He would’ve been reduced to the lay status and left to get along as best he could.
“But, of course, this wasn’t just any ordinary kid who wanted to be a priest. This was the Reverend Mr. Vincent Delvecchio. The archdiocese of Detroit had a lot invested in Vince: not only money but plans for administrative service.
“Thus, the conclave.”
“And,” Tully asked impatiently, “what happened at the meeting?”
“Oh, I can’t recall all of it …” Koesler paused to refresh his memory. “Well, first off, Monsignor Donovan identified the state of things. He was present in lieu of Archbishop Boyle. Boyle at this time”-he looked intently at Tully, who could not be expected to remember when the future Cardinal Boyle had succeeded Cardinal Edward Mooney-“had been in Detroit only some three months. He was installed in December 1958 and we’re talking about the spring of 1959.
“Donovan wanted to impress everyone that Boyle considered this decision concerning Delvecchio of prime importance-important enough that the archbishop himself would have attended. But since he was new to the diocese and was swamped, he couldn’t be there. Nonetheless, all were to understand that Donovan represented Boyle, the chief bishop of the state of Michigan.
“Then, as I recall, Dr. Bob Bear reported that Vince had suffered an extremely severe anxiety attack. He didn’t want to be overly technical nor could he reveal any information protected by physician-patient confidentiality, etcetera.
“Bear’s prognosis was guarded. With care and intensive therapy, Vince’s prospects were quite good. However, at this point, no predictions were ironclad. The doctor’s conclusion: One, that Vince not be ordained a priest until recovery was pronounced and solid; two, that during the time of Vince’s recuperation he be carefully monitored.
“Then the faculty had at it. It seemed obvious to me that the course the doctor had outlined made sense and that that’s what would happen. But I guess each of them felt impelled to contribute something. Father Walsh drew audible lines under some of the faculty’s comments. By the time it was my. turn, everything that could’ve been said had been. So, I passed.
“The responsibility for the final, word seemed to be shared by Father Finn and Monsignor Donovan. And basically, they pretty much followed the doctor’s suggestion.
“Finn said that no matter how quickly Vince might recover, ordination was out of the question this year. He said that no final decision should be made until at least a year from now and maybe longer. But Finn was concerned that Delvecchio not be put upon a shelf somewhere and periodically studied like an insect under a microscope.
“At the same time, it might be counterproductive to take Vince back at St. John’s Seminary. Of course he could continue in some sort of graduate work. But he would have to do so on his own. And that would not be feasible in this institution’s makeup. With all the other students from the first year of theology to the fourth, Vince would, in effect, be in a fifth year of theology-a class unto himself, as it were.
“Then Monsignor Donovan spoke up. He noted that originally Delvecchio had been scheduled to study theology in Rome. At almost the last instant, another student, who happened to be the nephew of a bishop, had been substituted for Vincent.
“‘Why not,’ the monsignor said, ‘use that appointment now?’ So Donovan suggested-with all the clout of the archbishop of Detroit-that Delvecchio be sent off to Rome for … the duration, however long that would be. Donovan said he had several personal friends in Rome, who, he was sure, would monitor Vince’s progress, behavior, and so forth.
“As a fringe benefit, while he convalesced Vince could be taking some graduate courses in Rome. He could end with a leg up on a master’s or a doctoral degree.
“All in all,” Koesler concluded, “it seemed like a happy solution to’ the whole problem.”
“So, he went off to Rome?”
“Well, he did have a choice: He could refuse the Rome assignment, he could shop around for another seminary in another diocese, or he could go job hunting.
“He went to Rome.”
“We corresponded-irregularly for the most part. Would you believe he spent the next four years studying in Rome?”
“Four years! It took him that long to get well?”
Koesler chuckled. “Not nearly. I could tell from his letters that he was making steady progress. Considering how ill he had been, he recovered remarkably quickly.”
“Then how come they didn’t ship him home right then?”
“Let’s just say-and for some very good reasons-the diocese didn’t want to gamble. I, for one, will never forget seeing Vince curled up on the floor, helpless and unconscious. And while nobody from the chancery was there, they couldn’t forget what had happened. Vince understood their reluctance to bring him home and ordain him.
“But he did extremely well with his time. Before he left Detroit, he spoke French, Spanish, and, of course, English and Latin. While he was in Rome, he became fluent in Italian. He got a doctorate in theology and a licentiate in Canon Law.”
“Wow!” Father Tully was impressed.
“Toward the end of his time in Rome, the guys in our chancery were trying to figure out where to slot him. Word had gotten around about what had happened. Gossip, especially clerical gossip, is a dam that can’t hold indefinitely. The brethren couldn’t figure what happened to him when he didn’t return to St. John’s after Easter vacation.