Whatever happened to Jan Olivier? A mystery.
Koesler had made no attempt to ascertain whether she was at her post the day after the “event.” But, in time, it was common knowledge that Jan had moved on, destination neither disclosed nor known.
Most everyone, if giving it any thought at all, probably surmised that she had left for a better-paying job. Generally, the various archdiocesan offices did not pay competitively. One did God a favor in working for the Church.
Others, while missing her cheerful voice and helpfulness, were vaguely happy she had found something better. But Koesler was saddened that nothing could have been done to heal her wounds.
Admittedly, “awkward” was not strong enough to describe what it would have been like for Jan and Vince to work together after what they’d put each other through. Still, Koesler believed that with a sincere concerted effort something could have been done. He supposed that Delvecchio had not had the opportunity to take the initiative in making peace. He also had his doubts as to whether Vince had any intention of trying.
However, as fate had it, Shanahan got the word that Delvecchio coveted the job of secretary. And Delvecchio got the job. A definite step on the road to the episcopacy.
The background of Delvecchio’s harsh treatment of priests in almost any problem or trouble would never be revealed to Father Tully or anyone else. It was protected by the king of all secrets, the Seal of Confession.
Just as well. It wasn’t the sort of example that Tully would find encouraging in his confrontation with the bishop.
Father Tully entered the room, shaking his head and smiling. “God bless ’em, the women are in the kitchen playing cards.”
“Cool,” Koesler observed.
“They say they’re ready whether or not Bishop Delvecchio stays for dinner. They have contingency plans.
“Personally”-Tully grimaced-“I’d just as soon he didn’t stay. I’d be happy if he just presented you with the papers, the documents … whatever, that make you a Senior Priest. If he leaves after that, he and I can argue this thing out later by ourselves. Better that way; this isn’t your fight.”
“No, no,” Koesler disagreed. “This parish is like my child. It’s got great potential. I doubt I’d be leaving it if I weren’t leaving it in your care. You’ve got the ability, experience, and talent to lead these people to a growingly Christian ideal.
“I want you to have this parish. There’s no reason, outside of Vinnie’s stubbornness, that you shouldn’t be pastor of St. Joe’s.
“Besides, it’s time someone talked some sense into him. He doesn’t have to be so by-the-book. Sometimes the book slams down hard on legitimate human freedom.
“And I think I’m the person who should reason with him. And now’s the time to do it. I’m retiring and I’m his friend. And, sad to say, there aren’t many who would call themselves his friend.”
“Well, that seems to be true,” Tully commented. “I guess he doesn’t even have many friends in the hierarchy or he’d be an Ordinary-have his own diocese by now.”
“I don’t know about that.” Koesler moved to the pool table and racked the balls for another game. “I don’t think friendship has all that much to do with moving onward and upward in the hierarchy. Although,” he added after a moment’s thought, “I suppose the popular concept is that all auxiliary bishops eventually get their own dioceses.”
“Well, that’s certainly not true.” Tully examined each cue stick in turn, hoping a change would bring better luck. “Lord, there are so many auxiliaries in these large metropolitan dioceses that they all couldn’t live long enough to become Ordinaries.”
“I don’t really know all that much about Church politics,” Koesler confessed. “But I would put my last dollar on Delvecchio’s breakdown as the impediment that’s blocking his advancement. He’s certainly conservative enough. The Vatican probably just won’t gamble on that breakdown.”
“Like he’s in limbo …” Tully offered to break. Koesler did not object. Tully’s break shot spread balls all over the table, but nothing fell.
Koesler sank a stripe and the game was on.
“Let’s see,” Tully said, “a brother, a sister, an aunt; his parents dead: That’s not much to count on for friendship.”
Distracted, Koesler missed an easy shot. “If you’re looking for Delvecchio’s friends, don’t start with his family.”
“No? You’re kidding?”
“Definitely not!”
“Well, okay, according to what you told me earlier, he wasn’t particularly close to his brother. But the sister: He got along fine with her … no?”
“To a point. The last thing I told you about their relationship was when their mother died.”
“Something happen to mess things up after that?”
“I’ll say! It was a big news story here … although probably not where you were.” Koesler reflected, then smiled. “I have a tendency to assume that news that’s big locally gets some play nationally-or, at least regionally. Of course realistically that’s not so.”
“Well, what happened to them?” Tully began to line up a shot.
“Lucy was about to graduate from high school when her mother died …”
“I remember. Of all of them, she seemed to keep a good head on her shoulders.”
“Well, after Mrs. Delvecchio died, the focus was pretty much on Vince and his condition. But life went on. Lucy graduated. So did Tony.
“Lucy transferred in college to premed. She was a terrific athlete. Unfortunately for her-and maybe for everyone then-she was a female and women’s sports were not taken seriously. Otherwise, she could have had a free ride. As it was, she won an academic scholarship that helped a lot.
“She graduated summa cum laude, went on to medical school, and became a doctor.”
Tully whistled softly. He missed a shot and leaned back against the wall. “Good for her.”
“After her internship, she got a lot of offers. But she chose the Emergency Room at Detroit’s Receiving Hospital. She wanted action and plenty of experience at healing just about everything. And she certainly got it at Receiving.
25
“This story goes back … what? … about twenty-five years-Lord, how time flies when you reach Senior Priest status.” Koesler chuckled. “A quarter of a century! It seems like last month. And part of this story is well known and remembered by anyone who was following local news around that time.
“I got some of the details later … and only because of my special contact with the Delvecchio family.”
1973
Monsignor Vincent Delvecchio was several minutes early for his luncheon date with Merl Goldbaum, who also was early. The two met four or five times a year. It was habitual for each to be early for appointments.
The two men could not be described as friends; more on the order of good acquaintances. They had met originally under the auspices of Father Robert Koesler.
At the time Koesler was editor of the
Goldbaum was no longer with the newspaper. Building on his journalism experience and contacts, he had launched his own firm and now headed one of the most respected public relations companies in the Detroit area.
The threesome had first come together during the mid-sixties. Goldbaum had phoned Koesler with an invitation to lunch on a day when Koesler and Delvecchio already had lunch scheduled. Koesler cleared the water
