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Note: The documents in this file are offered solely for educational purposes. Should any reader wish to quote or reproduce these documents for sale, the original publisher should be contacted and permission requested. We have tried to represent the range of news coverage and analysis, from the archdiocese’s own statements through newspapers and TV to the alternative press. BishopAccountability.org makes no claim regarding the accuracy of any document we post. Charge against Plesetz echoed By Carol McGraw A second woman surfaced Thursday to accuse former Catholic priest Gerald John Plesetz of fathering another child at a time he was supposed to be offering spiritual counseling. Plesetz, 59, out on bail and awaiting arraignment Oct. 25, was arrested this week [9/24] on charges of having a sexual relationship with a 14-year-old girl who had a child in 1974. He admitted to sheriff's investigators that the child was his, court records say. Plesetz, who lives in Orange and works for Orange County Health Care Agency, said Thursday that his relationship with the girl, now a woman identified in court papers as "Janet M," was "a foolish mistake." "It was a stupid thing. It was a terrible thing." He declined further comment on the charges, saying he didn't want to sound "whiny" and that he was in the process of hiring a lawyer. The second woman, who lives in Irvine, said she came forward to support Janet M. To protect other family members, she said, she did not want her name revealed. "It took extraordinary courage for Janet M to speak out," she said. "And I would like to dispel the notion that this conduct on the part of Father Jerry was an isolated event." The Irvine woman said that, around 1976, when she was 22 years old, she returned to St. Edward Church in Dana Point after a divorce that had separated her from her Catholic faith. She was referred to Plesetz for counseling. "I longed to once again be a member of the Catholic Church community, to be right with God, to be able to receive Communion. Father Jerry gave his assurance he would help me." But eventually he made sexual advances toward her, she said. "It was very confusing. He took advantage of his position of power and my vulnerability. I felt he was the one who held the power to my reconciliation with the church." She said that when she became pregnant he first denied the child was his, but then said she could count on him. Three months later she found out that he had left the priesthood and married a woman who attended St. Cecilia's Church in Tustin, where he had also served. That woman is now deceased. The Irvine woman called her daughter "an incredible gift from God, and I am unquestionably thankful for her. However, the circumstances under which she was born were devastating." Plesetz most recently served as a priest at St. Matthew Church in Orange. Married priests can serve in that church, which is affiliated with the Old Catholic movement. Bishop Peter Hickman said he let the priest go this summer after the Archdiocese of Los Angeles told him of Janet M's allegations. Hickman said Plesetz told him that those allegations were true and said it was a "foolish thing" that happened after he was newly ordained. "He said he always regretted it," Hickman said. Former Priests Charged With Felony Child Abuse NBC4.TV DOWNEY, Calif. -- A former priest who was moved from parish to parish after admitting to Roman Catholic Cardinal Roger Mahony that he molested boys has been charged with 29 counts of sexual misconduct with a minor, prosecutors said Thursday. Michael Baker, 54, is charged with molesting the child between 1977 and 1985. He appeared in court Thursday but his arraignment was postponed until Oct. 17. Baker was one of four former priests targeted for arrest this week, marking the first criminal cases in Southern California since the nationwide sex abuse scandal erupted in January. "No profession or occupation is immune from civil authority and the operation of the criminal justice system," Los Angeles County District Attorney Steve Cooley said in a prepared statement. Wearing a blue jailhouse jumpsuit, Baker stood before Commissioner Ross Klein in handcuffs and answered "no" when asked if he was prepared for the arraignment. Baker's lawyer Donald Steier argued that his client's bail should be reduced from $1 million because he has no criminal record and the charges involve only one victim. "This is a case where the gentleman self-reported and went to therapy. Certainly not a flight risk," Steier said. Deputy District Attorney Suzanne Freeman countered that more than $5,000 in cash was found in Baker's home during his arrest on Wednesday, suggesting he might have been preparing to leave the area. Earlier this year, Baker took trips to Mexico and Nepal, the prosecutor said. "We feel that $1 million is eminently reasonable," she said. Klein refused to lower bail. Baker has been charged with 13 counts of lewd acts upon a child under 14, and 16 counts of oral copulation with a minor, prosecutors said. Baker has been accused of sexual abuse by several altar boys, including Matt Severson. "You have to understand that Father Mike... was like a rock star priest," Severson said. Baker is reportedly the subject of a grand jury investigation. "I think even he saw himself as above the church," Severson said. "He did not live like other priests." Baker has denied abuse allegations in the past He also had been accused of sexual misconduct by two brothers who are now adults and live in Arizona. They previously reached a $1.3 million out-of-court settlement with the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. Many of the alleged crimes occurred at the rectory of St. Paul of God Church in La Mirada, authorities said. In 1986, Baker told Mahony that he had molested young boys and was reassigned to several parishes after attending a treatment center for pedophile priests. Baker retired from the priesthood in 2000. Mahony has since issued a public apology for allowing him to remain in the ministry after admitting his abuse. Also charged on Thursday was Carlos Rene Rodriguez, 46, a former Roman Catholic priest suspected of molesting a 12-year-old altar boy over a two-year period ending in 1987. He pleaded innocent Thursday to eight counts of lewd acts upon a child at a hearing in Los Angeles County Superior Court. Bail was set at $400,000. Rodriguez, a former Vincentian priest, was not affiliated with the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. On Wednesday, Los Angeles police said an arrest warrant has been issued for former priest George Rucker. Authorities allege Rucker, who had been assigned to three parishes in the Los Angeles area, molested 16 women in Los Angeles County from 1947 to 1979. Rucker, now 82, was removed by the archdiocese in April. His attorney told prosecutors he is traveling outside the country. "He is not a fugitive, he is just on a holiday," said Steier, who also represents Rucker. "I have every reason to think he's coming back." On Tuesday, authorities in neighboring Orange County arrested a former priest after he allegedly confessed to an undercover sheriff's deputy posing as the daughter he is accused of fathering three decades ago. Gerald John Plesetz, 59, was arrested at his home on suspicion of molesting a girl who authorities say gave birth to his child in the 1970s. The status of his case could not be immediately determined. Two Former L.A.-Area Priests Are Arrested By Richard Winton and Megan Garvey Authorities arrested two former Catholic priests Wednesday on charges that they sexually molested children during their tenure in Los Angeles-area churches and issued an arrest warrant for a third priest after unexpectedly discovering the 82-year-old retiree had left the country on a cruise. The arrests, the first in Los Angeles County since the Roman Catholic scandal that broke nine months ago, signal the start of more than a dozen planned prosecutions of former Los Angeles Archdiocese priests considered by investigators to be the worst offenders. "It doesn't matter who is accused of molesting children, we are going to do our best to bring them to justice," said Sheriff's Sgt. Dan Scott. The three priests targeted Wednesday are accused of molesting more than 20 girls and boys—as young as 8 years old—between the late 1940s and the mid-1980s, police officials say. Taken into custody by the Los Angeles Police Department early Wednesday was Carlos Rene Rodriguez, 46, on a single count of molesting a 12-year-old altar boy between 1985 and 1987. Bail was set at $400,000. The law enforcement operation then took a chaotic turn when authorities could not find two of the men, who had both been under investigation for months. Michael Stephen Baker, 54, was arrested eight hours after sheriff's investigators began looking for him. Baker, who admitted to Cardinal Roger M. Mahony in 1986 that he had molested boys, was booked on suspicion of child sexual abuse and held on $1-million bail. The LAPD also was seeking to determine the whereabouts at sea of G. Neville Rucker, a retired priest who, authorities say, is accused of molestation by 16 girls. The action came a day after a former Orange County priest was arrested on suspicion of sexually abusing a teenage girl in the 1970s. Sheriff's deputies engaged in a sting operation taped him making an alleged confession to an undercover officer. He believed the officer was his grown daughter by a then-teenage parishioner. The push for criminal prosecution marks a turning point in the nationwide molestation scandal in the Catholic Church that has seen top church officials—including Mahony—conceding that they knew about abuse of children by troubled priests for decades but did not inform local law enforcement authorities. In some instances, including the cases of Rucker and Baker, church officials instead chose to transfer the alleged offenders from parish to parish. The move by Dist. Atty. Steve Cooley to prosecute the priests—and his expressed intent to pursue many more cases—was praised by alleged victims and their attorneys. "This is another step toward accountability and prevention," said Jeffrey Anderson, a St. Paul., Minn., attorney who represents alleged victims of Baker. "Now we want justice." Church officials in Los Angeles, who have had a testy relationship with Cooley over his pursuit of personnel files of alleged abusers and their past handling of molesters in their ranks, expressed sorrow over the charges and said they hoped for a quick resolution. "My heart aches with the pain and suffering endured by victims of sexual abuse by clergy," Mahony said in a prepared statement. "The archdiocese will continue to reach out to all victims and their families with pastoral care and counseling." Ongoing Investigation Cooley issued a brief statement Wednesday saying the investigation is ongoing. "It is expected that the suspects arrested today will be charged and arraigned in court within the next 48 hours," he said, adding his office had been working closely with the LAPD and the L.A. County Sheriff's Department on the case. Prosecutors would not detail the evidence they plan to present. Crimes dating back as far as the allegations in the priests' cases require clear and convincing contemporary corroboration, officials said, and can be difficult to prove. But there was clearly confusion Wednesday on the part of authorities over the whereabouts of two of the suspects. Investigators had mistakenly believed Rucker, one of seven priests removed from the ministry earlier this year by Mahony under a retroactive "zero-tolerance" policy for molesters, would be available to turn himself in by noon Wednesday at LAPD headquarters. Instead, officials learned Wednesday morning from Rucker's lawyer, Donald Steier, that his client had "left the country" on a cruise a week ago. LAPD officials, who said Rucker has been accused of molesting 16 girls while serving in parishes in Los Angeles, East Los Angeles and El Segundo between 1947 and 1979, downplayed the significance of his absence. "When the D.A. called to arrange that this morning, Rucker was on vacation out of the country. He is not considered a fugitive," said LAPD Cmdr. Gary Brennan. Brennan said the retired priest had not been under day-to-day surveillance. "There was nothing to suggest he needed to be watched," Brennan said. "We aren't going to send out the Coast Guard." Steier said he told Rucker, who has worked as a cruise ship chaplain, that it was OK to travel because prosecutors gave no indication until Wednesday that they wanted to make an arrest. "Frankly, this could have been avoided if someone made a phone call to me earlier than today," the attorney said. The district attorney's office also expressed frustration. Law enforcement "investigators are charged with knowing the whereabouts of suspects the district attorney's office is about to charge," said Joe Scott, a spokesman for Cooley. LAPD officers apprehended Rodriguez shortly after 6 a.m. at his home in Commerce. Rodriguez was booked on suspicion of lewd acts with an altar boy over a two-year period in the 1980s. The alleged victim, now an adult, reported the alleged molestation in April to the LAPD's sexually exploited child unit, Brennan said. Rodriguez allegedly molested the boy at St. Vincent de Paul Church on West Adams Boulevard. In 1993, he left the priesthood and was living privately when he was taken into custody, Brennan said. During the investigation into Rodriguez, detectives discovered that the LAPD had received a prior allegation of sexual abuse against a minor by the former priest. Arizona Incident In 1987, the parents of another boy alleged that their son had been sexually abused by Rodriguez during a trip he took with the priest to Arizona, Brennan said. LAPD investigators at the time referred the matter to authorities in Arizona because the incident occurred in that jurisdiction. Early Wednesday morning, sheriff's deputies tried to serve an arrest warrant for Baker at his downtown Long Beach high-rise apartment but failed to find the former priest. Investigators then ordered Baker, through Steier, to turn himself in by 1 p.m., a deadline that came and passed. He was tracked down by deputies at a La Mirada residence in the early afternoon, according to law enforcement officials. The home is a short distance from St. Paul of the Holy Cross, a church where he once served and at least one man has alleged he was molested as a boy by Baker. He was taken to the Norwalk sheriff's station. Scott said the allegations against Baker involve multiple victims and incidents that allegedly took place between 1977 and 1985. Baker resigned from the priesthood in 2000. After his 1986 admissions to Mahony, he was sent for treatment and transferred to several parishes before resigning. In 2000, the archdiocese and Baker settled a lawsuit with two Mexican brothers for $1.3 million after they alleged the priest had molested them over a period of 15 years until 1999. Steier said his client was on his way to surrender when he was arrested. He said Baker's arrest would have been far simpler if prosecutors had arranged for him to turn himself in rather than come to his apartment to make a surprise arrest. As to the allegations, Steier said, "We'll see if their case meets the requirements of the law." Steier acknowledges that Baker has admitted to Mahony that he molested boys but said the acts involved may not be of a serious enough nature to warrant prosecution. "The statute may have expired," Steier said, of potential lesser crimes. Under state law, there is a 10-year statute on sex crimes, except in the most serious violations, such as rape and sodomy, involving children 15 and under. Mahony said Wednesday that he hoped for a "quick resolution" of the charges against Rodriguez, Rucker and Baker "so that all parties can move forward toward healing and reconciliation." In his statement, he made reference to Pope John Paul II's statement that there is no place in the priesthood or religious life for those who would harm the young. News of the arrests brought a mixture of reactions at Catholic parishes in Los Angeles. At St. Vincent, where Rodriguez once served, Blancarosa Gonzalez, 48, said that despite the arrests and the wider church scandal, her lifelong faith in the church remains unmoved. She was visiting the sanctuary, bathed in light from stained-glass windows and votive candles to seek comfort for the murder of her son six months ago in Mexico. "Only here," she said gesturing to the building behind her, "is there comfort for me." Faith Is Shaken But other worshipers had strong words for church officials they say have shaken their faith—not in God—but in church leaders. David Figueroa, 22, and Christopher Rivera, 21, who were at the church to dip their hands in holy water, said they have stopped going inside to pray since the sex scandal has escalated. Struggling to stay out of gangs and prison, they said they are disgusted that members of the priesthood have been accused of committing crimes against children. In prison, Rivera said, he learned that the bad things in life will always be easier to pursue than a moral path. But if priests cannot resist temptation, what guidance are people left with, they said. "It's messed up—you can't trust anybody," Figueroa said. "We're trying to do positive things for ourselves, and this really shakes my faith." Accused Priests [for photos see URL] Michael Stephen Baker Carlos Rene Rodriguez G. Neville Rucker Times staff writers Larry Stammer and Lisa Richardson contributed to this report. Sting Leads to Sex Abuse Charge Against Ex-Priest By William Lobdell and Christine Hanley Orange County authorities arrested a former Catholic priest Tuesday on suspicion of sexually abusing a teenage girl in the 1970s after the man allegedly confessed to an undercover deputy posing as his out-of-wedlock daughter. Gerald John Plesetz, 59, of Orange is the first priest to be criminally charged with sexually abusing victims in Los Angeles or Orange counties since the Roman Catholic sex scandal broke nine months ago. Plesetz, who left the priesthood in the late 1970s and works as an administrator for the Orange County Health Care Agency, was charged with three counts of oral copulation with a minor under the age of 16. It's unclear why prosecutors did not charge him with statutory rape; they accuse Plesetz in court documents of impregnating the girl. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Officials with the Orange County district attorney's office said that in child abuse cases, the statute of limitations does not begin until the victim comes forward no matter how long ago the alleged crime occurred. Charges must be filed within a year of that date. Plesetz's arrest caps a four-month investigation into crimes authorities said occurred from 1972 to 1974, when Plesetz was a pastor at St. Edward Catholic Church in Dana Point. It comes as advocates for victims of priest abuse criticize law enforcement for not filing criminal charges in most cases. The alleged victim, identified in the criminal complaint as "Janet M.," first met the priest when she was a 13-year-old singer in the church choir. Prosecutors charge that Plesetz repeatedly abused her—acts that ended when she became pregnant. The priest met with the girl's parents and arranged to pay all expenses related to the pregnancy, according to court records. The baby girl, Jennifer, was put up for adoption. Authorities became aware of the incident in June, when Janet M. filed a complaint with the Orange County Sheriff's Department. Jim Amormino, a sheriff's spokesman, said he didn't know why she decided to come forward. "I don't know if she lived that long with anger or what had happened," he said. Investigators set up a sting two weeks later. It began July 1 when the woman called Plesetz and told him that the daughter she had given up for adoption 27 years ago wanted to meet him. "You're kidding me—that's Jen, Jennifer?" said Plesetz in a secretly taped phone conversation detailed in the criminal complaint. The next day, Plesetz met with Janet M. and an undercover sheriff's deputy posing as her daughter. He admitted having intercourse with the woman and impregnating her, according to the complaint. Speaking to the deputy that he believed was his daughter, Plesetz described the mother as "a young girl who was going through womanly changes and she was very aggressive. She was beautiful, talented and she knew what she wanted," according to court records. On July 3, sheriff's investigators confronted Plesetz, and he confessed to the crimes, prosecutors said in court records. But he was not arrested at that time. The case was temporarily shelved because of the high-profile July 15 kidnapping of 5-year-old Samantha Runnion, which diverted department resources.Detectives continued to build their case over the last two months and arrested Plesetz at his home Tuesday. He was being held late Tuesday at the Men's Central Jail in Santa Ana on $50,000 bail. He is scheduled to be arraigned Thursday. Plesetz is the fifth priest from St. Edward Catholic Church to be accused of abusing minors over the last three decades. None of the other priests have been charged. "We're shocked, saddened and heartsick," said Bishop Tod D. Brown of the Diocese of Orange, after being told of the arrest. "Our hearts go out to the victim." Advocates for victims of priest abuse described the arrest as a milestone. "I think when victims hear about this arrest it's going to give them hope," said Mary Grant, a Los Angeles-based director of Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests. "It's been a long process for victims—hundreds have come forward. This is a sign that this is being taken seriously." While the Catholic Church in Southern California and across the nation has paid out millions of dollars to abuse victims who filed civil suits, criminal charges against priests remain relatively rare. Hemmed in by statute of limitations laws, faded memories, little corroborating evidence and the power of the priesthood and Catholic Church, prosecutors have put few clerics in jail for sexually abusing minors. Covertly recorded phone calls and meetings are an increasingly common device for gathering evidence in decades-old abuse cases where evidence is slim. In Los Angeles, Catholic officials are bracing for possible indictments of 15 current and former priests on felony sex charges, according to law enforcement sources. In Orange County, a handful of priests are under criminal investigation. Times staff writers Stuart Pfeifer and Richard Winton contributed to this report. Bishops Conspired, Says Abuse Plaintiff By William Lobdell In one of the first legal attacks on the nation's Roman Catholic leadership, an alleged molestation victim has filed suit contending that bishops conspired over the past 30 years to protect priests who sexually abused children to "avoid detection, public disclosure and scandal." The lawsuit filed Monday in Orange County Superior Court alleges that the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops even conducted seminars to show bishops and dioceses how to discourage and discredit claims of child sexual molestation, how to conceal or "sanitize" damaging records of accused molesters, and how to quietly transfer the suspected molesters without raising suspicion among congregants. Some experts say the suit is an innovative legal strategy to hold U.S. bishops accountable for a national wave of molestation cases involving priests that has tarnished the reputation of the church over the past year. Others call it a legal grandstanding ploy with no credibility. "This is an inevitable and logical conclusion to all that has been revealed in the past year," said Richard Sipe, a former priest and national authority on sexual abuse of minors in the Catholic Church who has testified for the plaintiffs in many molestation cases. "There is good evidence that the bishops conference has been aware of and consulted on sexual abuse issues." An attorney for the bishops conference called the suit "frivolous," saying that the national association of bishops never engaged in the kind of tactics alleged. And, as a point of law, the conference, which functions roughly like a professional association for bishops, has no authority to enforce its policies and guidelines in the nation's 165 autonomous dioceses, said Mark E. Chopko, general counsel for the conference. He said the conference has been named only once before in a sexual abuse suit, and eventually was dropped as a defendant. "The premise that we're somehow involved is completely wrong as a matter of law, a matter of fact, and a matter of equity," Chopko said Monday. Also named in the suit filed by David Price are the Los Angeles and Orange dioceses and a Maryland treatment center for clerics. Price, 37, alleges that he was molested as a teenager by Msgr. Michael Harris, his principal at Mater Dei High School in Santa Ana, over a five-year period ending in 1983. The dioceses of Los Angeles and Orange paid $5.2 million last year to settle molestation allegations by another plaintiff against Harris. The former priest has denied all allegations. Price originally filed suit in 1994, alleging that Harris molested him. A Superior Court judge rejected that case, saying the statute of limitations had expired. In the latest suit, the former Orange County resident has alleged he dropped an appeal of his original case when diocesan attorneys used the threat of $32,000 in legal bills to persuade him to sign a release agreeing to drop the suit. Price now is charging the Diocese of Orange with fraud, saying church attorneys called his first case against Harris "unmeritorious" even though diocesan leaders already had reviewed a damning report on the monsignor's alleged sexual misconduct from the St. Luke Institute in Maryland, a treatment center to which Harris had been sent for a five-day evaluation in early 1994. Price also contends that church officials knew of others who had come forward with sexual abuse allegations against Harris. A spokeswoman for the Diocese of Orange said she hadn't seen the suit and couldn't comment. A St. Luke Institute official said Father Stephen J. Rossetti, its president, was out of town Monday and no one else was available to comment. In the mid-1990s, Dallas attorney Sylvia M. Demarest sued the nation's bishops as part of a church molestation case that resulted in a $120-million jury verdict, which eventually was settled for $23 million. On the eve of oral arguments in 1996 before the Texas Supreme Court, Demarest withdrew the charges against the bishops conference, writing that while she believed the bishops were culpable, "such claims of institutional negligence have been seriously compromised" by recent Texas Supreme Court opinions. "My theory at the time was there was a conspiracy that included every bishop in the United States," Demarest said in an interview Monday. "The sexual abuse would be concealed, priests would remain in ministry, no one would know. Everything I alleged turned out to be true this year." Demarest said Price's attorney, John Manly of Costa Mesa, might have better luck because of a meeting of the bishops conference in June, when prelates hammered out a new, high-profile sexual abuse policy that called for zero-tolerance for priests who molest minors. At the meeting in Dallas, several high-ranking bishops conceded they should have done more to investigate claims and to protect children. The issue to be decided is whether the sweeping policy set in Dallas translates into new authority for the conference on matters of sexual abuse or whether the procedures were merely suggestions that can be used or ignored by the dioceses. "By exercising control, they deny they have no control," Demarest said. When Manly was told that the bishops' attorney said the conference had no control over the dioceses, he replied, "Gee, who were those fellows in Dallas? Their actions speak for themselves." Father Thomas J. Reese, editor of America, a Catholic weekly magazine, has closely followed the sex scandal and said he doubts that the bishops conference will remain a defendant. "[The conference] has never been successfully sued because each diocese is autonomous in its legal and financial operations and has responsibility for its priests and employees," Reese said. "As for accusing bishops of orchestrating a conspiracy, I don't think they're that smart or coordinated to do that." Pomp Past, Masses Flock to Cathedral By Larry B. Stammer and Hector Becerra A day after the elite of Los Angeles and princes of the church filled the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels at its invitation-only dedication, the soaring edifice Tuesday became a cathedral for the common man and woman. Surprising even the priests who hoped for a good turnout, an estimated 1,200 people showed up for the first daily Mass at 7 a.m. An additional 2,500 attended the 12:10 p.m. Mass, part of a first-day crowd that archdiocese officials estimated at 12,000. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Norwalk resident Margarita Gonzalez, 68, took a bus, the Green Line train and then the Blue Line to get to the new downtown landmark. The trip from her home to the statue of Mary at the cathedral lasted an hour and 40 minutes. Kneeling before the statue, Gonzalez prayed and dabbed her tears with a tissue. "They say it cost $200 million, and that it was a waste of money," she said. "But really it's all for God. What's $200 million for God?" Many of Tuesday's visitors were as excited and awestruck as the business, civic and political leaders at Monday's dedication liturgy. "This is magnificent, I tell you," said Rob Lazaga of Duarte. "The people who come here will see the flow of Jesus' life into their own. It could be transforming." "It's kind of overwhelming," said Matt Hourihan, 44, of Pasadena, who left the church 20 years ago. "All the thought that went into it. It makes me want to return to the church." Priests and others who had been present Monday said the mood was different Tuesday. There were far more displays of simple piety and many more tears. After the 12:10 p.m. Mass, a line 90 feet long formed inside the cathedral, as the devout waited to approach the 14-foot tall wooden cross bearing the cast-bronze corpus of the suffering Jesus. Officials of the archdiocese had invited cathedral visitors to walk around the altar and approach the crucifix. They did not expect what happened next. One after another, worshipers went up to the statue, crossed themselves and began to touch it, many with tears in their eyes. They rubbed the bronze feet of the suffering savior; they rubbed the flayed and abraded skin. They lingered. The scene reminded some of the way pilgrims rub the bronze feet of a statue of St. Peter in the Basilica in Vatican City that bears his name. Over the ages, the toes on Peter's feet have disappeared from the rubbings. "It's really amazing," said archdiocesan spokesman Tod Tamberg. "You could see 500 years from now the tradition here is to kiss the shins and touch the shins of the crucifix--and it's starting today." Those in Tuesday's crowd were mostly working people, kneeling, praying, paying $2 and lighting a votive candle. A Latino couple stood in silence for several minutes in the cathedral plaza before a shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico. "It is beautiful in my heart," Marcos de la Cruz of Van Nuys said in broken English. Maria Gutierrez, 75, a Pico Rivera resident and native of Guatemala, tarried before the painting of Mexico's patroness a little bit longer than her niece and her two small children. As her relatives walked away, Gutierrez, with halting steps, ventured closer to the painting and, standing amid the other onlookers, gazed at it shyly. "It's a real beauty," she said. "Guatemalans don't venerate her the same way Mexicans do, but to me she is the world's mother and a mother to me. I love her dearly." Inside the cathedral, secretaries on their lunch hour and a Latino family reverently knelt in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel before the stylized tabernacle containing the consecrated bread and wine, which Catholics believe is the body and blood of Jesus Christ. A little girl took a long-stemmed rose from a bouquet her mother had brought and gently laid it on the floor before the tabernacle. There were old people in wheelchairs, young mothers with infants, working men in white cotton T-shirts, and a teenage boy wearing a baseball cap and headphones. "Oh, my God, it's beautiful and it's joyful. It's a different feeling. It's just like floating up in the air," said Rebecca Cate of La Canada Flintridge. One man carried a plastic grocery bag as he kissed the ring of Cardinal Roger M. Mahony, the archbishop of Los Angeles. An old woman approached the cardinal and wept as he blessed her. "God bless you. Thanks for coming," Mahony told one. "Congratulations," someone told the cardinal. Another momentarily held his hand. "Thank you for your beautiful cathedral," he said. "Our cathedral," Mahony corrected him. Commenting on those who held a banner Monday protesting the cost of the cathedral, the cardinal said, "I wish people carrying 'No Fat Cat Cathedral' signs could have been here today." Creating a Timeless Place in an Ever-Changing City By Christopher Reynolds Around 6 Friday evening, a groggy, bespectacled man in a wrinkled blazer slipped undetected into the rear entrance of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. The construction workers were gone, the opening was two days off, and the low sun threw orange light sideways across the walls and windows. "When you stand here," said the man softly, "you feel the walls as sources of light." "And when you stand here, the ceiling is like wings, folded, protecting you." Then, as the man pointed up toward the cross behind the altar, a security guard stepped up. "Architect?" inquired the guard. Architect, indeed. After six years of work bringing this building from his imagination to the corner of Grand Avenue and Temple Street, Jose Rafael Moneo of Madrid was taking a few covert minutes inside the vast concrete-and-alabaster structure. "It is always rewarding, and at the same time sad, to finish a work," Moneo said. Earlier in the day, speaking in Spanish to a television interviewer, Moneo compared the vast church to a ship still in dry dock. "I'm looking forward," he said, "to when the ship is finally out in the ocean." Moneo, 65, has seen perhaps 80 of his building designs realized in his career, has served as chairman of the Harvard University Graduate School of Design's architecture department (from 1985 to 1990) and has won the highest global honor in architecture, the Pritzker Prize (in 1996, the same year he won the competition to design Los Angeles' new Catholic cathedral). But before this, Moneo had never designed a religious building and had never had such a high-profile project outside his homeland. After six years of monthly visits to Los Angeles from Madrid and a vacation on the Spanish island of Majorca that lasted through most of August, Moneo flew into California on Thursday night, just hours ahead of the cathedral's last round of pre-opening news conferences and walk-throughs. For the next week, he said, he'll be quietly hanging around the site, watching it come to life. "I think we have achieved most of what we were looking for," Moneo said. He also professed deep respect for Cardinal Roger M. Mahony's leadership on the project. Still, the architect said, he would have liked to have handled more details himself, from the kneelers scattered in chapels around the cathedral to the cardinal's chair by the altar (made by another artist). Most volubly, Moneo has spent months on a futile campaign to reduce the number of hanging lamps over the cathedral's pews. Many insiders on the project have fretted that the lamps, which resemble downward-aiming trumpets and hold small speakers as well as lightbulbs, mar the visitor's crucial first view of the altar from the rear of the cathedral. Mahony has maintained that the pews need that light. Moneo suggested dryly on Friday that as a worshiper in a pew, "you don't need the same light that you need for surgical intervention.... I am sure the cathedral, with half of the lamps we have today, would be much nicer." Still, Moneo said, working with Mahony has been simpler than dealing with bureaucracies, and much easier than dealing with the Prado Museum in Madrid, where his design for an extension has been bogged down for years. Onlookers have been struck by the stark surfaces of the church's sand-colored concrete walls, but their designer has been living with that idea for so long that his gaze travels easily and rapidly across the church exterior. Inside, strolling the aisles and ambulatories, Moneo pointed with satisfaction to several asymmetrical chapels along the entrance ambulatory (the architect's nod to the diverse nature of Mahony's flock); to the vast alabaster clerestory windows, which filter light into sepia hues; to the tall concrete cross behind the altar, which is visible to northbound cars on the Hollywood Freeway, which happens to flow along the Camino Real route blazed by Spanish missionaries in the 18th century. Continuing his stroll, he frowned at a porcelain Madonna he'd like to see on a higher pedestal, and confessed that he would have liked more input on the mausoleum beneath the cathedral and the cardinal's residence across the plaza. He lamented the lost portico (vetoed by Mahony, the architect said) that would have offered shade to worshipers as they drew close to sculptor Robert Graham's bronze cathedral doors. Yet he shrugged off the fake owl someone had installed above the entrance to discourage birds. As for the artworks displayed in and around the cathedral, "Don't ask me what features I like and don't like," Moneo said. "There are some that I clearly don't like. But I don't need to share completely with the cardinal his aesthetic tastes." The principal challenge in the job, Moneo said, was simply coming to
a definition of what makes a space sacred today, especially in a community
where so many different heritages intersect. Another was crafting a building
to last centuries in a city "that is continually liberating itself
and changing, always in the process of continual renovation." If
his job is done well, Moneo said, "the opinion of people in 50 years
won't be any different" from the popular opinion that emerges in
coming months and years. The parking-lot worker gave the man the same once-over the security guard had. Was he, the worker asked in Spanish, the man who designed the cathedral? Moneo nodded. "Felicidades," said the worker. "Es muy bonita." (Congratulations. It's very pretty.) The architect nodded in thanks and headed off to launch his ship. L.A. Cathedral Is Dedicated By Larry B. Stammer The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels was dedicated Monday, amid ancient prayers and pageantry, as a cathedral for the ages and a house of prayer for all people. Cardinal Roger M. Mahony led a procession through the cathedral's 25-ton bronze doors to a four-hour service steeped in Catholic ritual dating to the 4th century. Three thousand invited guests expressed their devotion, then watched a sacred dance—a modern innovation in the Western church—and the traditional anointing of the altar and the building with aromatic holy oil. The 12-story cathedral, built to stand at least 500 years, is the first major American cathedral to be built in three decades. Its dedication as the mother church of the nation's largest and most ethnically diverse Roman Catholic archdiocese culminated eight years of an effort led by Mahony to build a monumental cathedral that he vowed would be worthy of the City of Angels. "At long last, there is a noble great church at the heart of Los Angeles," Mahony declared as sunlight, distilled to a phosphorous essence by towering windows of Spanish alabaster, streamed into the cavernous nave. He ended with a shimmering vision of a 21st century cathedral, rooted in 18th century California history, committed to building a just and inclusive community in the state's "most diverse and decidedly most global city." "From this day forward," he proclaimed, "the stones of this building will sing, echoes rolling down the ages, telling of love and justice through the lives of all who come and go from this house of prayer for all people." Mahony called the church an "anchor for the ages." The dedication liturgy on an unusually hot and humid day was witnessed by a personal representative of Pope John Paul II, the Vatican's ambassador to the U.S., 11 other U.S. cardinals and nearly a thousand bishops, priests and deacons in vestments of matching hues of white and adobe. Also present were more than 1,300 donors and parishioners, many of them among the city's most prominent business, civic and entertainment figures, as well as the Spanish architect, Jose Rafael Moneo, who designed the cathedral. It was a moment of triumph and celebration for the church, which for the last eight months has been shaken by local and national scandals over the alleged sexual abuse of minors by priests and bishops. For downtown business interests and civic leaders, Monday marked a signal achievement in attempts to bring a new vibrancy to the heart of the city. And for many of the Los Angeles archdiocese's 5 million Catholics who never ventured to the old St. Vibiana's Cathedral, which languished on the edge of skid row, the day marked an introduction to their first mother church. St. Vibiana's, a Spanish Baroque building at the long-faded corner of 2nd and Main streets, was severely damaged in the 1994 Northridge earthquake. It has been sold by the archdiocese, and there are plans to convert it into a center for the performing arts. The design of the Moneo cathedral—which, at 333 feet in length, was designed to be a foot longer than St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York—has drawn both praise and criticism. Its soaring angular rooflines and feathered concrete walls suggest angels' wings in the abstract for some. Others have complained that the monumental building's austerity and untraditional design are cold and uninspiring. Demonstrators were on hand Monday to underscore their long-standing criticism of the $189.5-million cost of the cathedral and conference center in view of the ever-present needs of the poor and marginalized. One sign proclaimed, "No Fat Cat Cathedral." Mahony announced at the end of Monday's service that the cathedral complex had been "fully funded" by cash receipts and pledges. The $189.5-million "final cost" figure was also released Monday by the archdiocese. Earlier estimates had put the cost at $200 million. There were also demonstrators who supported the cathedral. "We are praying for you," a sign said. Still others used the occasion to remind the archdiocese of the sexual abuse scandal, in which more than 250 priests nationwide have resigned or been dismissed and scores of bishops have been criticized for lax oversight. A large papier-mache effigy of Mahony held a sign that read, "Suffer the little children." Mahony made no reference to the scandal in his homily, although he spoke in general terms about the redemption of sinners and the transforming effect of God's word. Mahony has said in interviews that the cathedral will stand, as cathedrals have through the ages, as a beacon of righteousness and God's love even in the face of scandal and disappointment in the church. Among the cardinals present were two whose resignations have been demanded by many in their archdioceses—Bernard Law of Boston and Edward M. Egan of New York. Mahony has been critical of Law in the past, but an archdiocese spokesman said it is customary to invite all American cardinals to such an event. But those controversies appeared to recede, at least for the moment, during the dedication. "I'm going to feel I'm part of many centuries of devotion," Ernesto Vega, director of Guadalupe House in East Los Angeles, said before the procession. Guadalupe House counsels Latino candidates for the priesthood. "I'm going to pray for those who come after me. Our mission is to pray for the church in L.A., to pray for future generations," Vega said. It was a day of firsts: the first procession into the cathedral, the first blessing of the baptistery, the first time the cardinal officially sat in his cathedra, or throne, and the first time the altar was kissed. It was also the first time the cathedral's 6,019-pipe organ was played during a Mass, the first time the Eucharist was celebrated there and the first time the perpetual sanctuary candle was lighted in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, signifying the presence of the consecrated bread and wine, which Catholics believe is the body and blood of Jesus Christ. The organ swelled with Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" as the procession passed through the bronze doors. Up the long ambulatory they proceeded—men and women, rich and poor, the city's sung and unsung. Their footsteps fell on newly polished stones of Spanish limestone. They passed the Blessed Sacrament Chapel. They passed the Chapel of Our Lady of the Angels. They reached a restored 17th century Spanish Baroque Retablo, the gold-leafed backdrop of a forgotten altar. They turned right, then right again to behold a soaring nave with gentle natural light streaming through the alabaster windows. They filled the pews. "Christus vincit (Christ has conquered)," they proclaimed. "Christus regnat (Christ reigns)." "Christus imperat (Christ is supreme)." A climatic moment came midway through the service, when the building was liturgically transformed into a cathedral. What had, according to tradition, been a mere building, was made holy in the next few minutes as Mahony, wearing a linen apron tied with cardinal red apron strings, liberally poured aromatic chrism—holy oil—on the square, seven-ton, burgundy-colored altar of Turkish marble that he designed. He then spent several minutes spreading the oil over the surface with his bare palm. Minutes later, five Los Angeles auxiliary bishops and the archdiocese's vicar general fanned out through the congregation with bowls of holy oil and stained the cathedral walls, tracing three-foot high crosses beneath 12 bronze and silver angels as a sign of baptism. The stains are expected to be noticeable for months, if not years. In another dramatic moment, thick plumes of incense smoke billowed from a large basin set on the altar and rose almost 10 stories to the cathedral's wood ceiling as a sign of prayers going to heaven. Next, 12 sacred dancers—diminutive Vietnamese nuns in navy blue and white habits—gracefully glided around the altar and through the cathedral with uplifted bowls of burning incense. The dance by the Vietnamese Lovers of the Holy Cross filled the cathedral with the sweet scent of chrism. Mahony said the cathedral, resting on the heritage of the Spanish missions built along El Camino Real by 18th century Franciscans, was a milestone on a spiritual road to God and community. "Today," Mahony declared in his homily, which he read from a TelePrompTer, "the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels joins the storied ranks of the early missions, the first permanent structures built across the California landscape. "It sinks its foundations in the very heart of the City of Los Angeles, astride today's El Camino Real—today's less colorfully named Hollywood Freeway—where it will stand and soar for many centuries as a sign of God's enduring presence in our lives and community." Mindful of those who have criticized the archdiocese for spending so much on a new cathedral, Mahony said the cathedral would stand as a champion for justice and a unifier in the secular city. His homily was replete with appeals for "a more humane and just city." He spoke of "the longings of our larger city" and "links across social classes." He called for "cooperative living." He said the cathedral plaza should be a place where "the poor and rich mingle." "God's word always calls us to move beyond our fears and limitations, to take risks that will fashion us more and more into God's image," Mahony said. "Anyone who comes here should continue on their journey with a replenished spirit of respect for all other peoples—in a special way, rendering thanks for the gift of ethnic diversity in this great urban center. No traces of discrimination or racism are to be found in this space. God's temple is a house for all peoples." It was a theme repeated by Pope John Paul in a letter read by his envoy, Vatican Cardinal James F. Stafford. "May this cathedral always remain an eloquent symbol of communion and fraternity, of mutual respect and understanding," the pope wrote. Mahony sounded a note of caution, lest the archdiocese become caught up with the cathedral, but not its meaning. "Is all this splendor and architectural artistry enough for us?" he asked. "Can we rest content with the beauty arising from this spot? We must answer an emphatic 'No!' Not as a kind of cultural treasure was the cathedral built. As a vibrant symbol of God's habitat in our city, this outer form must find an echo in the inner graces of a people who listen intently to God's word, as it comes to us as challenge and consolation," he declared. The Hand of God and Theirs By Hilary E. MacGregor Five hundred years from now when people stand and marvel at the soaring adobe structure at Temple and Grand in downtown Los Angeles, they will learn the names of José Rafael Moneo, the cathedral's architect, and Cardinal Roger M. Mahony, the man who conjured it to life. Perhaps they will even take away the name of sculptor Robert Graham, who built the 25-ton Great Bronze Doors, or John Nava, who designed the tapestries that line the nave. But visitors of the future will never hear of Juan Hernandez, a carpenter from Mexico who worked on the Our Lady of Angels Cathedral for five years, or Eleazar "Chay" Contreras, the layout superintendent who plotted the angles of the cathedral in three-dimensional space, or Dana Baker, a marble mason who laid stones in the floor, and granite in the baptistery. Nor will they learn the names of Charles Coury, who hid scriptures in the rafters, or Dennis Paoletti, who calculated the way sound will reverberate through the basilica, or Francis Krahe, whose lighting turns the cathedral at night into a giant lantern. No one has exact numbers, but C. Terry Dooley, senior vice president of Morley Construction, who worked at the cathedral for six years, estimates that 2,000 people worked on the $200-million cathedral complex downtown from start to finish. These are some of the invisible ones, whose hands laid the stones, poured the concrete, placed the alabaster in the windows, laid the wires. But unlike the theaters, apartments, casinos and malls that are their livelihood, some craftsmen and construction workers also invested something of themselves in this cathedral. Dooley said the workers' tangible investment in the building was part of Moneo's plan. When the contractor proposed casting the adobe-colored concrete off-site, and transporting it downtown--which would have been easier--Moneo called the idea "an abomination." "I want to see the hands of the workers," Moneo told them. Some of these artisans and tradesmen believe God chose them for this job. Others prayed for guidance on the site, as the enormity of the task withered their courage. Still others found themselves--unexpectedly--caught under the spell of the sacred space. Those who worked on it like to say--although they are not strictly correct--that there are no right angles in this cathedral. There are certainly few. All the points of the structure, every corner, every wall of every chapel, the baptismal, the floor, was ultimately measured from a single point at the corner or Temple and Grand using a piece of computerized surveying equipment called a digital theodolite. The tool used lasers projected into space to plot the corners of the building. Contreras was the layout superintendent on the project. In order to construct the 800-plus angles, he plotted more than 11,000 points. "We have to shoot the three dimensional point coordinates into the middle of gravity so we can build to that point," said Contreras, a slight man with bright eyes, fine features and a boyish enthusiasm that makes even his most esoteric point sound fascinating. Last Tuesday morning, he pointed with pride at some of the sharpest corners, the difficult angles, the canted slope of the chapels of the ambulatory and the radiating web of floor stones. Everything that followed--the placement of wooden forms built by carpenters, the pouring of concrete by laborers--depended on Contreras having perfectly plotted the points. If a wall was off by even an inch, workers had to fight the tiny error from floor to roofline or the corner had to be remade. "The work was so intense," Contreras said. "There were instances on the job site when I looked up at the sky and I said, 'Help me, God.' I had this responsibility. I really didn't want to make an error. I believe God helped me and there it is." The hours were crazy. The concrete had to be poured in the inky blackness of early morning--at 2:30 or 3 a.m.--to keep the water below 70 degrees and ensure hundreds of years of durability. Riding high on the building, as the sun rose over the city, were some of the best times for Contreras. "Oh, it was great," Contreras said. "There were moments when you were up in the sky and you could see all the downtown high rises, and the mountains, and it just felt like you were going to heaven." Through months of taking measurements and calculating points, Contreras eventually came to understand in his bones the symbolic language of the building, just as Moneo hopes visitors will. It happened one day inside the cathedral, as Contreras plotted the axes of the church, and the floor stones that radiated from the altar. "I realized it was a cross," Contreras said. "Then I would think, when I was working at the back of the church, I am working on His right foot.... Just by knowing I worked on the cathedral, to me it was like a gift of God. Like I was born to be building His house." Dream Job Juan Hernandez, 50, is a carpenter, like his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather before him. Like Jesus. Hernandez worked on the cathedral site longer than any other workman. He was known for the cowboy-shaped hard hat he wore on the job; the cardinal liked to tease him about it. Hernandez grew up in San Miguel de Allende, just blocks from that city's colonial cathedral. His ancestors built furniture, cabinets, guitars and pianos, and so has he. For Hernandez, who is Catholic, this was the job of a lifetime. "I never understand the mind of the Lord, what he has prepared for me," Hernandez said. "But I know he wants me here, that he chose me to be here. This was like the culmination of my career." The job strained every skill he had. Hernandez worked on many walls in the cathedral, including the main northeast wall and the Guadalupe chapel. None of the forms he built had square angles; all were mitered. Over five years, as his life changed dramatically, the cathedral offered him solace and strength. His wife grew ill. He would leave her in the morning, knowing as he left, that she might not be alive when he returned. On those days, he would try to be the first person in the building, and he would pray. When the sun came up, he thanked God for a new day. Sometimes he got to see the sun set, and he thanked God for that too. Sometimes he sang as he worked, happy just to be alive. Working on the cathedral was peaceful, he said, and he would have done it for free. Last spring , when the worst finally happened, his work was a salvation. "She died on a Friday night," he said. "Monday, I was ready for work," he said. "My children, my grandchildren, they will know, my father, my grandfather worked there," Hernandez said. "I know it is a minor thing I did. It's like the sand of the sea, of the seashore. But little by little you make the big picture. I am one of those particles of sand. But I am there." Craftsmen Remembered Mike Flucke, an executive with Benson Industries of Portland, Ore., which handled the alabaster and glass, often talked to his workers of their historical role. "Five hundred years from now," he would tell them, "people will look back and wonder about the craftsmen, just as we look at the cathedrals of Europe, and wonder about their craftsmen." Flucke has visited museums to see the ropes, pulleys and ramps medieval builders used to erect their monuments. Many of them, he said, weren't so different than what was used on this project. His men, who built the steel that held the windows, and placed the alabaster in the lantern where the cross hangs, sometimes had to scramble as many as eight stories of scaffolding to start their work day. "We were up there in the middle of space," said Al Galvan, who was in charge of the huge concrete cross that dominates the east wall of the cathedral, and is surrounded by veined alabaster that glows at night like a giant beacon. "We had to use a lot of imagination, a lot of new techniques. We had new ways of doing things." Eddie Lohr, 53, is a partner in Carnevale & Lohr, the company that installed the stone flooring, the altar, the baptismals, the fountains in the plaza, the courtyards and mausoleums. Lohr oversaw 40 to 45 men for almost two years. Lohr is Lutheran, but his company has worked on about 20 Catholic churches over the last two decades. The cathedral, he said, was a humbling project. At times he became overwhelmed by the magnitude of the job and the timetable. He would ask God to help him get from one day to the next. He discovered in himself a new kind of perfectionism. Sometimes, after a long day, he'd be on his knees until 9 p.m., ripping out stones that weren't perfectly laid. "Because when you are working on a cathedral, doing work for the church, for God, it has to be right." Beaming Inspiration Those who raise their eyes to the geometric beams that crisscross the ceiling will be looking at one of the cathedral's secrets. Craftsmen who work on them often hide their signatures in rafters. But in July, Charles Coury, manager of the WoodCeilings Inc., the company that made the ceilings, had an inspiration. He wrote to the cardinal: "We would like to staple a Bible verse to the hidden inside portion of one of the 'logs' in order to honor the Lord and acknowledge the privilege we have felt working on this project." He asked the cardinal to select a verse, if he thought it was appropriate. The cardinal was delighted. "You are most likely the first supplier on the Cathedral Project who has made such a magnificent request, and I commend you for it!" Mahony wrote back, and chose five. Mary Tyler, WoodCeilings co-owner, chose four more. The nine verses are clustered in the rafters nearly 100 feet above the altar. Matthew 7:8 is directly over the altar, in a spot where the logs intersect: "In my house, says the Lord, everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened." The scripture project pulled the little company together; employees signed each scripture card before it was laminated and stapled to a log. Now the scriptures are a secret, known to only a few. "To walk through and look up and know that one of my prayers is
up there, one of the scriptures that I personally selected, it is a wonderful,
thrilling, humbling thing," Tyler said. "There are few times
in your life when you are part of a great work. This is one of them."
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