Our Lady Of Greenwich Village (30 page)

New York Daily News, May 24, 2000

Eye on New York By Cyclops Reilly

OOPS, IT'S
OPUS DEI

Get a load of this.

What if I told you that I knew people who liked to get their buttocks beaten as a way to get closer to God?

What if I told you these guys were really into wearing haircloth shirts so it could rub their skin until it was raw?

What if I told you I know guys—and a few ladies too—who like to take instruments of mortification and flog themselves on the back until they bled?

Hey, most people would say, “Whoa! That's kinky stuff—and I'm not into that.”

Yeah, I think the Marquis de Sade invented a name for it—Sadomasochism.

Some people get off that way. Hey, me? Whatever floats your boat pal, just so long as you don't bother anyone else.

But these folks don't do these weird things—so they say—to get a sexual kick. They do it for the love of God.

I ain't lying.

They belong to an extreme right-wing organization of the Catholic Church called
Opus Dei
.
Opus Dei
is Latin for “the Work of God.” They think of themselves as being elite. Kind of like the marines of the Church.

There are a lot of rumors swirling around New York and Washington, D.C. right now and they involve an
Opus Dei
priest named John Costello. When last seen, he was going into the papal nunciate in Washington for a meeting. Also seen entering the building was New York's own councilman extraordinaire from Crown Heights, Rabbi Menachem Mandelstam. There were other guys going into the nunciate also, but that's a story for another time.

Father Costello has also spent a lot of time in New York lately. He's been staying at the Cardinal's residence on Madison Avenue, behind St. Patrick's Cathedral. Rumor has it that he has been advising Declan Cardinal Sweeney on Vatican Politics 101—how to get anti-abortion candidates, like Jackie Swift, elected to Congress with the blessing of Holy Mother Church.

My sources tell me that Costello, who is not even an American citizen, was the man behind bringing the Reverend Chester Cockburn to New York so he could deny he was a sodomite. I'm also told that he insisted that Cardinal Sweeney appear on the
Bourne in the Morn
radio program, which turned into another disaster for the Cardinal.

Now, Cardinal Sweeney and I don't always see eye to eye. In fact, we never see eye to eye. But the Cardinal is a good and decent man. The Archdiocese of New York, under his intimate direction, ministers to the sick, runs orphanages, has one of the best independent school systems in the nation—and they let everybody in because they don't care if you're a Catholic or not. Cardinal Sweeney is a direct descendent of Archbishop Dagger John Hughes, who was instrumental in setting up these Catholic institutions to minister the Irish who came to America during the potato famine.

I want to know what the Reverend Dr. John Costello, who is not an American citizen, is doing in the United States of America trying to interfere in the election this November that is going to take place in New York's 7th Congressional District between Wolfe Tone O'Rourke and Jackie Swift?

And here's the kicker. I want to know what Councilman Mandelstam was doing at the papal nuncio's house in Washington, D.C. He went in with nothing and was seen leaving with a shopping bag, bulging at the sides.

I called Mandelstam for a comment today—we're old friends going back to the early 1970s when we first met in Times Square, of all places—but he didn't return my call.

Geez, Manny. Give me a ring. Maybe we can talk about old times.

S
éan Pius Burke entered the Cardinal's study and stood before the Cardinal, who had the
Daily News
opened to Cyclops Reilly's column on
Opus Dei.
“What does it mean?” he asked Burke as he looked up.

“It means, I think, that you won't be seeing the Reverend Dr. Costello anymore.”

“Why would Reilly do this for me? Does he want anything?”

“He wants nothing but a good story,” replied Burke. “He did it because I asked him to do it. So did Wolfe Tone O'Rourke.”

“O'Rourke,” said the Cardinal, “that heathen.”

“That ‘heathen' donates over six figures a year to the Archdiocese of New York,” said Monsignor Burke, his voice rising. “What this archdiocese needs, I would say, are more ‘heathens' like O'Rourke.”

“Six figures,” said the Cardinal. “You must be joking.”

“Do you consider St. Bernard's School down on West 13th Street in the Village a joke?”

“No, of course not. It is one of our oldest parishes.”

“Well, O'Rourke is the benefactor that keeps that school open.”

“I didn't know,” said the Cardinal softly.

“He wanted no publicity,” said Burke. “I probably shouldn't have told you that.”

“What does he get out of it?” asked the Cardinal.

“Nothing,” said Burke. “O'Rourke has been very fortunate, financially, in his life, and this is his way of repaying the Church for his education at St. Bernard's. He is a true philanthropist.”

“Hmmm,” mused the Cardinal. “Maybe I should meet with this O'Rourke, if that's possible.”

“I'll see what I can arrange,” said Monsignor Burke. “How about Cyclops Reilly?”

“I think,” said the Cardinal with some amusement, “that I can work only on one Irish devil at a time.”

E
veryone had their eye on the door of the city council minority leader, Menachem Mandelstam. Reporters stood down the hall and waited to see who would show up this morning. They could tell something was up when Swift himself arrived at the unearthly hour of 9 a.m. Peggy Brogan was with him, looking mildly ruffled, her long blonde hair stuffed inside an oversized cap. The watch continued as everyone waited for Menachem Mandelstam and Vito Fopiano. And they weren't disappointed. Mandelstam and Fopiano showed up together. Both had their chins cemented to their chests, looking like a couple of mobsters doing a perp walk.

“Vito, Manny. Any comment on Cyclops' column this morning? What's your connection to Costello? Did any money change hands?” There wasn't even a “no comment” from the two of them as they sought the shelter of Mandelstam's office.

“Hey, Manny,” Abe Stein called out as Vito pulled the door closed, “did you forget your shopping bag?”

“Fucking press,” said Mandelstam when he was inside the safety of the office.

There were no formalities. “Where's the money?” asked Fopiano.

“In the safe at my district office in Crown Heights,” replied Mandelstam.

“Jesus H. Christ,” replied Fopiano. “Get it out of that fucking office.”

“But where?” asked Mandelstam.

“I don't care where,” said Vito, “just somewhere away from here. If the Feds go looking—”

“You're toast,” interrupted Brogan.

“Toast,” Fopiano repeated.

“How much?” asked Swift.

“One hundred thousand in unmarked twenty-dollar bills,” replied Mandelstam.

“Good Jesus,” said Brogan.

Fopiano grabbed Mandelstam by the arm. “Go,” he commanded. “Get out of here and get rid of that money.” Vito practically pushed Mandelstam out the minority leader's door, into the arms of the waiting press corp. “Jesus Christ” was all Fopiano could muster for Brogan and Swift as the press surrounded Manny like wolves that hadn't eaten for a week.

“What do we do now?” asked Brogan.

“Keep our mouths shut, stay out of sight, and hope this blows over,” replied Vito.

Jackie Swift looked at his hands and saw they were shaking. So did Brogan. Swift smiled at Brogan, and she was relieved by his brave front. But there was only one thought going through Swift's nervous mind at the moment: He needed a Fish-pack.

I
t ended quietly. O'Rourke got a call from his friend at the Justice Department, who told him that the papal nuncio had decided to cooperate with the FBI investigation into Robert Hanssen and had turned over the Reverend Dr. Costello to the Immigration and Naturalization Service, who in turn took him to Reagan National Airport and saw to it that he made his Air Canada flight to Toronto, with a connection to Niagara Falls.

McGuire arranged a conference call between Monsignor Burke, Cyclops Reilly and Clarence Black. “It's over,” said O'Rourke into the speakerphone. “Costello is on his way back to Canada.”

“It's not over,” replied Reilly with vehemence. “What about that shopping bag full of money that Mendelstam ran off with?”

“Let it drop,” said O'Rourke. “We accomplished what we wanted to accomplish.”

“I'm not going to let it drop,” insisted Reilly.

“Benedict,” said the monsignor, pulling rank, “it's over.”

“No, it's not,” said Cyclops as he slammed the receiver into its holder and got the attention of the entire city room at the
New York Daily News
.