Not too long ago, I noticed a book, A Concise History of the Catholic Church, in the reading
room at my parish church -- St. Thomas à Becket in Reston, Virginia. Any time I see a book
about the Catholic Church, the Second Vatican Council, ecumenism, civil rights or the liturgy, I
immediately search the index for "Hallinan, Paul J." His name was there. Here is what it said:
"Archbishop Hallinan of Atlanta, Georgia, one of the champions of reform (liturgy) noted how
amusing it was at times to hear bishops speaking in elegant Ciceronian Latin while arguing for
the use of vernacular languages."
I worked for Archbishop Paul J. Hallinan as managing editor of The Georgia Bulletin, the
weekly archdiocesan newspaper, from May 30, 1966, until his death on March 27, 1968, at the
age of 57. He was the first archbishop of Atlanta; prior to that he served as bishop of Charleston,
South Carolina, as a Newman Foundation chaplain at Western Reserve University in Cleveland,
as a combat chaplain in the South Pacific during World War II and as a parish priest in Cleveland.
A native of Painesville, Ohio, the 1932 graduate of Notre Dame (philosophy) received a
master's degree from John Carroll University. He earned a doctorate in history from Western
Reserve while he was archbishop. He was awarded an honorary degree from Notre Dame and
received Notre Dame's Sorin Award.
Vatican II changes
Every now and then I come across citations that remind me that he was an unusual U.S.
bishop who considered Vatican II as one of the great events in Church history and the greatest
event in his life. He was proud of his role in persuading the Council to approve use of native
languages in the liturgy instead of Latin only. I hope he is still remembered.
Theologian Hans Kung in his 2002 memoir My Struggle for Freedom wrote about the
struggle to overcome the Holy Office's opposition to any language change. Kung cited "the
brave Archbishop of Atlanta, Paul Hallinan, who knew that the vast majority of U.S. bishops
were behind him, fought against this [delay] and urged speed and concentration." Kung also
mentioned Saturday-night parties at the residence of journalist Bob Kaiser, where he talked to
"the leading English speaking progressives." His list included such bishops as Hallinan, Mark
McGrath (Panama) and Thomas Roberts (formerly Delhi).
At one of those parties, Father John Courtney Murray, the controversial architect of the
religious liberty provision, told Hallinan that if he wanted to get ahead in the Church, he should
stay away from him. "That angered me," the archbishop told me years later, "but I understood
what Murray was saying."
Xavier Rynne wrote in "Letters from Vatican City," a colorful inside report on the
Council's deliberations that appeared as dispatches in The New Yorker and later was published as
a book, that the archbishop was one of the few American bishops who was heard from
throughout the Council, particularly on religious liberty and the liturgy.
Monsignor John Tracy Ellis, a noted U.S. church historian, was a close friend and
advised the archbishop as he pursued his doctorate. In his book Catholic Bishops: A Memoir,
Ellis said Hallinan was "the most striking example of Episcopal leadership in American Catholic
Community of my time."
At the second session, it was obvious to many observers that the archbishop was on his
way to higher office, but a breakdown in his health ended speculation about his future. After his
return to Atlanta, he became ill with hepatitis in December 1963 and was hospitalized for almost
seven months. This physically robust man was transformed into a skeletal figure with an often
swollen stomach and yellowish complexion. When I came to work for him in May 1966, he
knew he did not have too long to live. I afraid to think about that, because I had found the perfect
job. I once asked him if he would ever become a cardinal. He replied, "No. I have only have half
of a liver." I told him that I would rather work for a bishop with "a whole head and half of a liver
rather than one with a half head and a whole liver." He smiled.
Hopes for more reform
Despite his poor health, he continued to push for liturgical reform in the church. In July
1964, he wrote a pamphlet "How to Understand Changes in the Liturgy." About 50,000 copies
were distributed across the United State and abroad. His column "Archbishop's Notebook" was
widely quoted, especially when he dealt with the liturgy, war and peace , racism and poverty,
ecumenism, and enhancing the role of the laity, particularly women, in the Church. He had high
hopes that a mature and progressive laity would play a large role in moving the Church forward
theologically and in expanding its role in the world as called for by Vatican II.
On the ecumenical front, he was widely respected by Protestants and had particularly
close ties with Atlanta's Jewish community since he supported Israel in the Six-Day War in
1967. Hallinan and Rabbi Jacob Rothschild promoted and attended a dinner honoring Dr. Martin
Luther King Jr. for winning the Nobel Peace Prize. No white Protestant ministers showed up.
Before I moved to Atlanta, my brother told me more than once, " Kit, Atlanta has a great
archbishop. He's a Notre Dame graduate." I came to Atlanta in 1965 to work for the Associated
Press and would read news articles about the archbishop from time to time. When I saw an
article that said the present managing editor of The Bulletin was leaving, I applied for the job.
My interview with Hallinan and Auxiliary Bishop Joseph Bernardin, his protégé who
later became the cardinal-archbishop of Chicago, was memorable. At the time of my interview,
Rolf Hochhuth's play The Deputy, a sharp attack on Pope Pius XII's effort to save the Jews from
the Germans, was playing in Atlanta. A Bulletin editorial criticized the play. As we sat down for
lunch, the archbishop asked, "Did you read the editorial?" I replied, "Yes, but I did not
particularly like it. " He smiled and said, " I wrote it."
Despite my rather blunt assessment, we had a warm discussion after that. He said he
wanted an experienced newsman to run the paper, not someone who wrote such headlines as "No
Catholics Killed In Kansas Tornado." He wanted the newspaper to report on changes and
controversies in the church. I was overawed by him. When I got home, I told my wife that I felt
that I would be offered the job despite my gaffe. I was right.
A blessing of a boss
We had a great working relationship. He never told me what to write or not to write, what
to print or not print. I am sure that I caused him pain from time to time, but he never told me to
slow down despite complaints about me from some of his pastors who were not as enthusiastic
about Vatican II as he was. We would talk several times a month, and he would take me to
dinner occasionally. One time a woman of apparent easy virtue walked by as we ate and nodded
to me. He saw her and advised, "Chris, at times like this, it is better to be with your archbishop
than your wife." He also would comment when his fellow bishops resisted changes he favored:
"With shepherds like these, who needs wolves?"
I still feel a great sense of loss when I think of Archbishop Hallinan. Working for him
was a great joy because of his goodness, his wit -- which he used on himself -- his knowledge,
his courage and his openness to change. He lived the axiom of his hero, John Henry Newman,
"In a higher world it is otherwise, but here below to live is to change, and to be perfect is to have
changed often.
Cardinal Leo Suenens of Belgium once said about the archbishop: "On the evening of
May 2, 1968, when I just learned of the death of my friend, Archbishop Hallinan -- who, of all
American bishops had been closest to me -- I wrote down something he once said. Someone had
been suggesting that he should be more cautious in his public pronouncements on the Vietnam
War; he knew at the time he was going to die before long and he replied, 'You know where I am
going, the only problem will be -- did I speak clearly enough?'"
Archbishop, you did. I can still hear you.
Chris Eckl, a 1956 Notre Dame journalism graduate, lives in Reston, Virginia, with his wife, Liz. They have
four sons, a daughter and 11 grandchildren. He was engaged in congressional relations for the
Tennesee Valley Authority and the American Public Power Association, retiring from both. At
present, he works part time as a legislative affairs specialist for a DC law firm.
(October 2007)
