The Pope Came to Town

The Pope Came to Town

Pope John Paul II

Philadelphia, PA

October 1979

There was been so much talk about his visit but it just seemed as if he was never coming. The plans were larger-than-life. The city and outlying areas braced itself just like people do for bad hurricane. We stocked up on food. Businesses shut down for the day. The mayor’s office released warnings to the general public on a regular basis.

Extra buses and trains were added to the daily commute schedule. Portable stadium bleachers were brought in and assembled up and down the street. Hundreds of Porta-pottys were scattered around town. Barricades were put up. Streets are blocked off. As there was excitement in the air. The Pope was coming to Philadelphia. It was October 1979 at that time of year when the days were starting to be shorter but they were still glorious. The sun still hit on your back in midafternoon. At a dusk a light jacket would do the trick keeping you warm.

I was 23 and working in town. I worked for a Jewish firm so I didn’t get the day off. But we did close at noon as most companies did. The mayor’s office had declared the day at the state of emergency and ask that only essential workers stay in town. So in essence the whole city was shutting down at noon so that those people who have no interest in the pope could get the hell out of town. And then those who wanted to see the Pope had enough time to do so. At least that was the projected plan; the exit and entrance into the city that day was chaotic.

On the morning of the great visit I arrived at the train station at 8:10 to catch my usual train to work. Usually 50 of us would board that train. Today the station was mobbed. Over 200 people lined the tracks, mostly nuns in full habits and long rosary beads. Some of them mumbled the rosary as they waited.

The train pulled up and it was already overflowing to capacity. No one got off and four or five people were stuffed on and the train took off without me which meant I was going to be late for work.

Another train came by a few minutes but it didn’t even stop. And then another train and another train passed us without even stop stopping.

Finally, around 840 my sister showed up at the train station. She was on her way to Temple University to take her first exam in her MBA program. She was surprised to see me and I conveyed the bad news: we were in a battleground with these nuns.

A train pull-up and there was a glimmer of hope. The door opened and people were allowed on. But clearly we could see that not enough people were going to be allowed on. Sharon panicked because she sensed she was going to be late for her exam. So being the older sister I made a general plea: “Okay all you good Christians, please let my sister on first. She has an exam at Temple at 9:30”.

Well I wasn’t expecting the parting of the seas, I did think a few people would take pity on her and let her on. But no, that didn’t happen. No one took pity on her. But their indifference did give me the chutzpah to go toe-to-toe with the nuns. We did get Sharon on and she was not late for her exam.

I finally made it to work an hour late. But so, did everybody else. And we spent the rest of the morning talking about and worrying about getting home. My boss tried not to say anything negative about the pope even though he clearly was not pleased with this Catholic moment.

In addition to no effort on anyone’s part to work that day, we were filled with family visitors. Anyone who planned to go to the Pope’s mass was there for the rest of the day and most of them brought their entire family with them. So, children and elderly aunt and cousins sat on our desks and windowsills. They encumbered our restrooms and they photocopied words to hymns and prayers.

Those few co-workers who did not want to go to see the Pope found all this to be distasteful. Those who wanted to see the Pope fed on their enthusiasm like an infectious disease which was becoming more and more contagious with every hour.

Most of our visitors had piles of food. But there wasn’t a whole lot of sharing, outside of the immediate family. There was a sense the city was going to run out of food, clothing and shelter by the end of today. So, food had to be distributed judiciously.

It was noon and everyone charged out of the office with the same chaos as the running of the bulls. Those who weren’t interested in seeing the Pope got the hell out of Dodge. The rest of us strategized on how to get as close to the altar as possible.

The Pope’s alter was circular and it was built right in the center of Franklin Boulevard, the main road through the city. Color-coded tickets were issued via a Catholic Caste the system to everyone the prior month. The white tickets, pure as snow, were given to the nuns and priests. The blue tickets were given to those Catholics who made big donations to the church. The green tickets were giving to the parish administrations who held lotteries for lucky parishioners. And then there were those of us who have no tickets. It was suggested that we just go home and watching on television.

I was with my co-worker Trudy and her daughter Valerie. Trudy had to green tickets and was about to make her way to the green section when I told her not to be so ridiculous. I just knew that there would be no way to control the ticket system with this larger crowd. I convinced Trudy to come with me as I attempted to make our way to the blue section. Trudy was hesitant but she appeased me. I felt a great sense of victory. But that was short-lived as the security force was able and did monitor the ticket holders. Now I was sunk. Trudy was just about to leave me when a man walked up to me and asked if I needed a blue ticket. He had a stack in his hand. I brazenly asked for three. I figured if he only gave me one I would still take it and then join Trudy in the green section. He gave us three tickets and we were allowed in with the Catholic heavy-hitters.

We found perfect seats:  right on the steps of the Franklin Institute. And everyone there shared my enthusiasm for our good fortune. We had a seat with the backrest. We were out of the sun. We could see the altar without any obstruction. I was feeling smug and Trudy was overjoyed with her good fortune.

It was only 2 PM and Mass wasn’t to start until five. But that time went quickly as everyone had a story to tell. One woman bragged about her daughter who was at the airport holding the L in the sign Viva La Papa. One man had a nephew who is going to be one of the dozen alter boys.  A mother bragged about her son who worked as a US marshal and was going to provide security for the pope. There were stories about how everyone got into town this morning. And we talked about how we got our blue tickets.

Then we all reviewed and discovered who we knew from each other’s parishes. And then food came out and people shared what they had. And we saved each other spot as we needed to make our way to the long lines of the porta-potty. We were community.

Someone had a portable television and announced the arrival of the Pope’s plane. We cheered and cheered and cheered. And then this man served as the play-by-play announcer for the next hour.

 “He’s coming out of the plane.”

 “He is waiting to the crowd.”

 “The Mayor’s greeting him. They’re shaking hands and laughing about something.”

 “He’s getting in the limo.”

 “There seems to be some sort of delay.”

 “Okay the limo took off. The motorcade just left the airport. He’s on his way.”

This man filled us with so much detail that I could just see the Pope coming up Broad Street, waving to the crowd. Any minute now he was going to enter Logan Circle and I was going to see the Pope for the first time.

In addition to the man’s commentary, the cheers of the crowd announce the Pope’s arrival. I could tell he was coming from the left because there was so much commotion, so much excitement. That shiny black limousine rolled down the parkway. I could see the pope standing up in the back, waving and giving the peace sign. And the crowds cheered and cheered and cheered. We were all overjoyed. He was just a little white specs in his white cassock and skullcap. But the magnitude of his presents overwhelmed all 250,000 of us.

His car stopped at the foot of the alter and he got out. He slowly ascended the stairs as if he was floating up into heaven. It was becoming dusk now. The sun was starting to set and the air was becoming crisp. But everything felt warm and loving.

The Mass was like a Broadway show. Everything was orchestrated and executed as planned. When the pope gave his homily, his words reverberated and boomerang around us. His comments filled our space. And when the Mass ended and he slowly made his way down the stairs, we were all exhausted. And as his cars pulled away from us, we sat in silence trying to take it all in. it had been a wonderful, exhilarating moment.

Getting home was much easier than I had anticipated. It seemed as if there were hundreds of trains available. People were ushered on like cattle at the slaughterhouse. I got home in no time.

When I arrived home at my parents’ house, I noticed there were lots of cars parked in the street. This was very unusual. My brother informed that the Pope was having dinner at St. Charles Seminary, right around the corner. He was expected to leave there in an hour and then go up to the Cardinal’s house. I wanted to go see him again. I had become a pope junkie. I needed another fix.

 My brother decline my offer to join me. “I’m tired of all this pope shit. Enough already”.

I went next door to see if my friend, Helen, wanted join me. Her mother informed me that Helen hadn’t made it home yet. And then she informed me that neither had her husband. Apparently as the head of the city parking authority, he was holed up in a hotel with his co-workers and they all gotten drunk in honor of the pope.

 So now Mrs. Dougherty was annoyed and she was making herself a tall Manhattan.

 “Do you want one? Want a Manhattan?” she offers.

 “No. I want to go to the Pope. Do you want to come with me?” I asked her.

 “No.” She is adamant.

 “Please”, I beg in a sweet voice.

 “No.” She didn’t waver.

 “I’ll drink a Manhattan with you if you come with me”, I tell her in my manipulative voice.

We had a Manhattan together which was trying for me because I don’t like to drink hard liquor. I’m a beer drinker. So, I gulp my Manhattan the same way I drink beer. And that I firmly placed my glass on the table.

 “Okay, let’s go,” I tell her.

 “Wait. You aren’t supposed to gulp like that. You sip Manhattans. Have another one”.

My glass was filled again and she topped her drink off for good measure. I finally convinced her that we had to get going. But she insisted that we take our drinks with us. So off we went to see the Pope with our Manhattans in hand.

When we got to the seminary, people were lined up on either side of the street patiently waiting. Everyone was filled with excitement and stories of the day. Someone with the transistor radio announced, “He just left. The news reporter said he just left”.

Less than minute later I heard the crowd announce his arrival. we cheered and clap and sang as he came into our line of vision. I was standing no further than 5 feet away from him. I could see every jester, every muscle in his face. It had been a long day. It must’ve been around 9 PM but he didn’t look the least bit tired. It was almost as if we were energizing him. There was a magnetic force between him and us. I was drawn to him.

His car slowly rolled down Lancaster Avenue which was blocked off for him. The driver turned left on to City Avenue. As his car took that left turn, some inner voice call to me. I heard it in my head, “go get him. Don’t let him getaway”.  I spontaneously call to Mrs. Dougherty and told her to join me. And she did. The two of us begin to chase the Pope, Manhattan glasses in hand. Suddenly I saw Greg, my neighbor. He joined us in the chase. He didn’t ask me any questions. I offered no explanation. Greg just seemed to understand we could not let this man and this moment get away from us.

But it did get away from us. The driver picked up speed and left us in a cloud of exhaust. We ran for about a quarter mile before we realize that it was over. The pope was gone and this magical day was finished.  Viva la Poppa.