mind is the sheer bulk of the man, six foot three in his socks and built like the natural athlete he is. The impression is curiously heightened by the slight stoop he has now acquired—to which the weight of the Banco Ambrosiano scandal has undoubtedly contributed. In the days when he guarded Popes on their foreign travels, he would seem affable, wisecracking but vaguely menacing; a streetwise, sharp-eyed American who by accident had found himself in the closeted, insulated world of the Vatican. His recreations today, tennis and above all golf, are those of the self- made American business executive. His swing—at least in the days before notoriety prevented him getting out on to the course for a round—had something of the style of the late Tony Lema, "Champagne Tony", who won the British Open in 1962, and whom Marcinkus would remember with affection.
Yet this incongruous man of the Church, in some ways the most important figure in this story after Calvi himself, won the confidence of two Popes, Paul VI and the Polish-born John Paul II.
His origins were far more modest than those of Calvi. Paul Casimir Marcinkus was born on January 15 1922 in the tough Chicago suburb of Cicero, one of five children of Mykolas Marcinkus, an emigrant from Lithuania who found work as a window-cleaner. His early years were those of prohibition and gang wars. A1 Capone was one of the city's more noted products of that era.
But at the Roman Catholic grammar school of St Anthony's, Marcinkus was a brighter-than-average pupil, and, of course, sports- mad. It was a complete surprise to his classmates when he decided to study for the priesthood. In 1947 he was ordained, and three years later he left for Rome to study canon law at the city's Gregorian University. His intention was to return to Chicago, but in his own words, "I just got trapped."* A temporary summer stint at the Vatican's secretariat of State so impressed his superiors that he was taken on permanently.
His drive, and ability to get things done soon won him an important admirer, Monsignor Giovanni Battista Montini, a high Curia official who would be appointed Cardinal Archbishop of Milan in 1954. Nine years later Montini returned to Rome, as Pope Paul VI. Marcinkus, in the meantime, was to serve as a Vatican diplomat in Bolivia and Canada, but it was his managerial and administrative prowess which really attracted attention. He also had the talent of being the right man in the right place. Paul VI was the first Pope to travel the world, but his first trip, to Jerusalem in 1964, proved so badly organized that in future he enlisted the services of Marcinkus—first as St Peter's own American-style advance man, and then as unofficial bodyguard and aide. In 1965 Marcinkus acted as interpreter when Pope Paul met President Lyndon Johnson in New York. In the Philippines in 1970 he helped save the Pope from attack by a knife-wielding Bolivian artist.
Then again, in the late 1960s, when deposits from US Catholic institutions with the IOR began to fall off, what better choice could Paul VI make to head the bank than a dynamic American prelate and proven manager, who originated from the largest US archdiocese?
Inevitably the swift rise of this foreign intruder with his no- nonsense ways aroused some resentment and jealousy within the Italian-dominated Curia. But America loves a success story; and some who crossed the Atlantic on Church business are said to have regarded a round of golf with Marcinkus at the Acqua Santa golf club down on the Appian way as a status symbol to match an audience with the Pope himself.
Such different views, of course, sharpened later, first with the Sindona scandal, and then the Ambrosiano affair. Americans who knew Marcinkus well were generally prepared to forgive him. He might have been gullible, they maintained, but at heart he was a "nice
* Chicago Tribune , March 13 1983.
guy", basically honest, loyal and good company, always ready to put
Yet this incongruous man of the Church, in some ways the most important figure in this story after Calvi himself, won the confidence of two Popes, Paul VI and the Polish-born John Paul II.
His origins were far more modest than those of Calvi. Paul Casimir Marcinkus was born on January 15 1922 in the tough Chicago suburb of Cicero, one of five children of Mykolas Marcinkus, an emigrant from Lithuania who found work as a window-cleaner. His early years were those of prohibition and gang wars. A1 Capone was one of the city's more noted products of that era.
But at the Roman Catholic grammar school of St Anthony's, Marcinkus was a brighter-than-average pupil, and, of course, sports- mad. It was a complete surprise to his classmates when he decided to study for the priesthood. In 1947 he was ordained, and three years later he left for Rome to study canon law at the city's Gregorian University. His intention was to return to Chicago, but in his own words, "I just got trapped."* A temporary summer stint at the Vatican's secretariat of State so impressed his superiors that he was taken on permanently.
His drive, and ability to get things done soon won him an important admirer, Monsignor Giovanni Battista Montini, a high Curia official who would be appointed Cardinal Archbishop of Milan in 1954. Nine years later Montini returned to Rome, as Pope Paul VI. Marcinkus, in the meantime, was to serve as a Vatican diplomat in Bolivia and Canada, but it was his managerial and administrative prowess which really attracted attention. He also had the talent of being the right man in the right place. Paul VI was the first Pope to travel the world, but his first trip, to Jerusalem in 1964, proved so badly organized that in future he enlisted the services of Marcinkus—first as St Peter's own American-style advance man, and then as unofficial bodyguard and aide. In 1965 Marcinkus acted as interpreter when Pope Paul met President Lyndon Johnson in New York. In the Philippines in 1970 he helped save the Pope from attack by a knife-wielding Bolivian artist.
Then again, in the late 1960s, when deposits from US Catholic institutions with the IOR began to fall off, what better choice could Paul VI make to head the bank than a dynamic American prelate and proven manager, who originated from the largest US archdiocese?
Inevitably the swift rise of this foreign intruder with his no- nonsense ways aroused some resentment and jealousy within the Italian-dominated Curia. But America loves a success story; and some who crossed the Atlantic on Church business are said to have regarded a round of golf with Marcinkus at the Acqua Santa golf club down on the Appian way as a status symbol to match an audience with the Pope himself.
Such different views, of course, sharpened later, first with the Sindona scandal, and then the Ambrosiano affair. Americans who knew Marcinkus well were generally prepared to forgive him. He might have been gullible, they maintained, but at heart he was a "nice
* Chicago Tribune , March 13 1983.
guy", basically honest, loyal and good company, always ready to put
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