From the Archives
By Mary Woodward

JACKSON – After last week’s article on the death of our bishops, I received a few inquiries about the arsenic poisoning of Bishop John Edward Gunn, which actually occurred in February 1916 in Chicago instead of 1915 Detroit as previously reported.

The event honored Archbishop George Mundelein who was recently appointed as Chicago’s top prelate. Most of Chicago’s “who’s who’s” were there. Bishop Gunn’s description of the event is so vivid that I will let his words paint the scene.

“On February 10th there was a meeting of the Catholic Church Extension Society followed by a dinner at the Archbishop’s house. Everybody was invited to wait over in Chicago for the big blow-out that was to take place on the night of February 10th when the city of Chicago was to banquet the new Archbishop. This banquet was engineered by Msgr. [Francis] Kelley of Catholic Extension.

“It took place in the banquet hall of the University Club and had among its guests forty Bishops, the head of the Army, the government officials, Governor of the State, Mayor of the City and everybody else worthwhile in Chicago.”

“It was at that banquet that the nearest approach to the wholesale poisoning of the hierarchy and the Chicago millionaires was attempted. After the oysters came the soup and while only a small cupful was served to each guest, before the last guest was served with soup, one hundred men were on the floor or were being carried out. There was a panic in the dining room and as no one knew its cause, everybody was frightened.”

“The University Club was turned into an emergency hospital and I was able to get to the elevator. I was brought down to one of the big reception rooms and gently deposited at full length on the floor. I was beside an Army Officer in full regimentals, a civic authority with a generous abundance of shirt waist, a Bishop from somewhere, and we were all in a very undignified scramble to reach the same spittoon.”

“The celebrated Doctor Murphy had charge of our room and while medical hygiene may be all right in the abstract there was very little time for the niceties or ethics of medicine on that occasion. A bell boy from the hotel went ‘round with a pitcher and a glass and insisted on giving everyone a dose of mustard and tepid water.”

“The man who did not take it was made to take it and the results were instantaneous, but the heavily cushioned upholstered University Club carried for a long time the marks of the banquet.”

“Of course, the thing broke up the banquet and about 100 hundred men just barely escaped death by poisoning. There were about 100 who did not take soup and they remained in the banquet hall to make and hear the speeches.”

“About one o’clock I managed to get to my hotel room more dead than alive and the feeling was the usual feeling after a bad attack of sea-sickness. I left as soon as possible for the Pass [Christian] but nothing could induce me to even look into the dining room on the way between Chicago and New Orleans.”

“The papers of the country and the detectives of every country got busy to find the poisoner. He was a socialist from Alsace-Lorraine, who was in charge of making the soup. It seems he studied poisoning as a sideline to Socialism and he knew with German accuracy the exact amount of soup to be served to each guest.”

“The soup was made a day or two in advance; the poison was added; and Jacques Crones took French leave. On the night of the banquet there were more guests than soup portions, with the result that the soup had to be watered and smaller portions served. It seems that this saved the entire banqueting party from having to attend their own funeral.”

“I was glad to get back to the Pass on Feb 12th where I stayed under a doctor’s orders close to a stomach pump until the end of the month.”

So that is the real story about the arsenic poisoning from the diary of Bishop Gunn. The diaries of bishops provide much history that never shows up in history books or news media. They are priceless treasures of diocesan life and the development of the church in our state, region and country.

We will share much more as time goes on from these unique perspectives of history from the very real men who held the office of bishop.

(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson)

From the Archives
By Mary Woodward

JACKSON – November is the month to remember the dead in our Catholic faith. It opens with the Solemnity of All Saints where we honor all those ordinary people in our lives who were saints to us. The next day is All Souls, a personal favorite of mine, in which we honor the dead and, in many traditions, decorate graves and have picnics in cemeteries.

This year was a particularly poignant All Souls for me as the death of Bishop Emeritus Joseph N. Latino of happy memory is still fresh. Because of soil and settling, we were just able to move the gravestone over his plot in the diocesan bishops’ cemetery next to the cathedral.

We have a temporary marker for Bishop Latino and are awaiting the engraver’s arrival in a few months to carve his inscription on site. Apparently, there are only one or two people willing to carve out inscriptions on site on this type of stone. So, we wait patiently.

Dealing with this made me think about all our previous bishops and their deaths.

Bishop John Joseph Marie Benedict Chanche, SS, (1841-1852) died most likely of cholera in Maryland while visiting family after a plenary council in Baltimore. Cholera is a horrible death, but he was described as bearing it with great dignity. After spending more than 150 years in the cemetery in Baltimore, he was brought home to Natchez in 2008.

Bishop James Oliver Van deVelde, SJ, (1853-1855) was Bishop of Chicago and suffered from arthritis. He felt a warmer climate would be beneficial for his joints, so he requested a move South. A yellow fever infected warm climate mosquito got him, another terrible way to go. Bless his heart. He was originally buried in the crypt at St. Mary in Natchez, but his Jesuit confreres wanted him home in Florrisant, Missouri.

Bishop William Henry Elder (1857-1880) was elevated to Archbishop of Cincinnati and lived a long life up there into the next century (1904). He died of what we used to call “old age,” which is a medical term for not one specific thing, and he was 85, which is old for 1904.

Bishop Francis August Anthony Joseph Janssens (1881-1888) also moved on to an archdiocese when he became Archbishop of New Orleans in 1888. He died nine years later in 1897 at age 53 aboard the steamer Creole, bound for New York City. He most likely had a heart attack or a stroke.

Bishop Thomas Heslin (1889-1911) as we explored in an earlier column, flipped out of the back of a mule cart near West Point and was levered back into the cart while unconscious. He most likely sustained some broken ribs, which weakened his lung capacity, and he died a few months later. He is buried on Catholic Hill in Natchez.

Bishop John Edward Gunn, SM, (1911-1924) survived an arsenic poisoning administered by a spy during World War I at a banquet in Detroit in 1915. Suffering a major heart attack in January 1924, his health finally gave out in February at Hotel Dieu in New Orleans. He is buried in the Catholic section in Natchez next to Bishop Heslin.

Bishop Richard Oliver Gerow (1924-1966) is the first bishop to officially retire from the office of bishop in our diocese. He lived 10 years after his retirement and died in December 1976 at the age of 91 having achieved 67 years of priesthood – another death attributed to “old age.” He is buried in the bishops’ cemetery beside the cathedral.

Bishop Joseph Bernard Brunini (1967-1984), our only native son bishop from Vicksburg, died suddenly surrounded by his brother bishops on retreat in Manressa, Louisiana on the Solemnity of the Epiphany. I had eaten lunch with him that very day and was shocked when I got the news he was dead four hours later. He is buried next to Bishop Gerow.

Bishop William Russell Houck (1984-2003) also lived many years into retirement dying of heart and lung issues in 2016 at the age of 90. He, too, achieved 60-plus years of priesthood having marked 65 years when he died. Bishop Houck completes the first line of three bishops in the bishops’ cemetery.

Bishop Joseph Nunzio Latino (2003-2013) died on May 28 of this year having just celebrated his 58th anniversary of priestly ordination on May 25. Bishop Latino’s death is still too fresh to share details, so we will save that for a later date.

Throughout this month of November offer some prayers for our deceased bishops who have served as our shepherds for more than 180 years each in his own unique and dynamic ways.
Requiescant in pace.

(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson.)

From the Archives
By Mary Woodward
JACKSON – Rev. John Edward Gunn, a Marist priest and native of County Tyrone, Ireland, was appointed the sixth Bishop of Natchez by Pope Pius X in 1911. He was ordained a bishop at Sacred Heart Church in Atlanta where he was serving at the time on August 29 of that year.

Bishop Gunn was known as a brilliant orator and for having tremendous energy. He cultivated the diocese’s relationship with Catholic Extension to help in the building of chapels throughout the state. By the time of his death in 1924, almost every Catholic in Mississippi was able to reach one of these chapels for Mass at least once a month. Catholic churches grew from 75 to 149 during his administration, and Catholics grew in number from 17,000 to more than 31,000.

He also helped found St. Augustine Seminary with the Society of the Divine Word in Greenville for the formation of African American clergy in 1923. The seminary later moved to Bay St. Louis.

It is rumored that Bishop Gunn preferred Pass Christian to Natchez and had hoped to move the diocesan offices there.

Bishop Gunn’s 13 years of service to the Diocese were marked by the difficult four years of the first World War and the ravages of Spanish influenza.

Not only was he a gifted orator, but he was a fine chronicler of daily life as is proven in his diary. From his diary we find an interesting entry from Nov. 8-10, 1918, that is very relevant to today’s pandemic atmosphere. It also contains a noteworthy bit of information about the end of the war.

“I left [Nov. 8] for St. Louis to assist at the consecration of the new Bishop of Galveston, Bishop Byrne. When I reached St. Louis, I got into the midst of the flu. Not only were the churches, schools, and public buildings closed but all the stores, soda water fountains and everything.”

“On Saturday night I walked the streets of St. Louis for more than an hour and could not buy a cigar and the question was – how could the consecration take place in St. Louis Cathedral on November 10th when it was forbidden to open a church door?”

“I went ‘round on Saturday night to see Archbishop Glennon and found Bishop Allen with him. The Archbishop seemed to take everything very quietly and said that it was forbidden to open the main door of the Cathedral but there were several other doors that were not officially closed, with the result that the consecration took place on Nov. 10. The crowd was small, the ceremonies were beautiful, the dinner was as heavy as the oratory and there was an atmosphere of unrest everywhere.”

“The papers were filled with the flu conditions of the country; the war conditions were reaching a climax, and everybody was on edge.”

“I left St. Louis on Sunday night [Nov. 10] and on my way home, at Fulton [Missouri], I thought that the world had come to an end. I was in the Pullman compartment when noise broke loose in the form of whistles, bells, bands and every kind of thing that could make a rattle and a screech at the time when ghosts are supposed to appear and graves yawn, etc.”

“It was occasioned by the fake news that had gone over the world that the Germans had signed the armistice. When the real news of the Armistice came nobody believed it.”

“I managed to get to New Orleans on the 11th and the city looked like the morning after Mardi Gras. The people had shouted themselves hoarse over the fake armistice and had no voice for the real one.”

Although WWI was a very complex time for those of Irish heritage due to British rule and treatment of them, the Bishop believed strongly in service to one’s country. “In life and death, I am proud of three things: my Irish birth, my Catholic faith, and my American citizenship,” he said. “I tried to translate my love for all three into service and sacrifice,” he wrote in his will.

Bishop Gunn died at Hospital Hotel Dieu in New Orleans on Feb. 19, 1924, and is buried beside his fellow Irishman Bishop Thomas Heslin on Catholic Hill in the Natchez City Cemetery. His portrait hangs in the dining room of the Cathedral rectory in Jackson. As in any good portrait, Bishop Gunn’s eyes follow you as you move through the room.

In his will the Bishop also wrote, “I believe in God. I believe all He has said because He said it and because His infallible Church heard Him and told me what He said. I love Him with my whole heart and soul and strength and for His sake I love others.”

Bishop Gunn’s diary is so rich that we will share some more gems from it in the future.

(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson)

From the Archives
By Mary Woodward
JACKSON – This week I am highlighting a neighbor to the south of us – Archbishop Joseph F. Rummel, who was Archbishop of New Orleans from 1935 to his death in November 1964. His tenure runs almost parallel to our own Bishop R.O. Gerow (1924-66).

In talking with our Bishop Emeritus, Joseph Latino, who grew up and went to seminary during the Rummel years, Bishop Latino shared some insight into the life of the archbishop saying he was very much committed to ending segregation even in the face of strong push back from Catholic community and business leaders. An interesting timeline develops beginning in 1949.

It seems in 1949, Archbishop Rummel canceled an outdoor liturgy when city officials would not allow African American Catholics to participate. In 1950 he had “White” and “Colored” signs removed from churches. Rummel mandated an end to the practice of making African American Catholics receive Communion last in 1953. These measures met with resistance from laity and clergy.

To ground his efforts solidly in Catholic theology, Rummel issued a letter to be read in all parishes Feb. 11, 1956. Now Rummel was famous for his long letters to be read to parishioners at Sunday Masses, but this one rocked the entire archdiocese. The letter was laying groundwork to integrate the archdiocesan school system. In the letter Rummel gives three main points quoted below courtesy of the Archdiocese of New Orleans Archives.

“Racial segregation is morally wrong and sinful ‘because it is a denial of the unity and solidarity of the human race as conceived by God in the creation of man in Adam and Eve. Male and female He created them and breathed into them the spirit of life and commanded them to increase and multiply and fill the earth. Throughout the pages of the Old Testament and the New there is constant recurrence of this truth, that all mankind has in Adam and Eve one common father and mother and one common destiny, namely, to serve God in this world and find eternal happiness with Him in the world to come.

“Racial segregation is morally wrong and sinful because it is a denial of the unity and universality of the Redemption. The Eternal Son of God, Christ Jesus our Lord, came into the world to redeem and save all men, to die for all men on the cross, to make the life of grace available through the Church and the Sacraments for all men, to embrace all men in His Mystical Body on earth and in the life of glory in heaven. Racial segregation would draw the color line across the inspiring plan of the Redemption and thus sin against the divine providence. the love and the mercy that conceived and carried out the wonderful Mystery.

“Racial segregation is morally wrong and sinful because it is basically a violation of the dictates of justice and the mandate of love, which in obedience to God’s will must regulate the relations between all men. To deny to members of a certain race, just because they are members of that race, certain rights and opportunities, civic or economic, educational or religious, recreational or social, imposes upon them definite hardships and humiliations, frustrations and impediments to progress which condemn them to perpetual degradation which is only a step removed from slavery. Such indignities are grievous violations of Christian justice and charity, which cannot be justified in this modem age of enlightenment and loudly proclaimed democracy.”

Rummel concludes the letter aware of opposition by calling for calm and prayer: “May we likewise unite in prayer that the decision, when made, will be accepted in the spirit of Christian charity and justice and in that unity of mind, heart and will, which must always characterize the family of God. This is a problem which should be worked out not in an atmosphere of wrangling or contention or discord or hatred but in a spirit of conciliation and with a desire to achieve peace through justice and charity. Prayer and calmness of spirit are much needed in all our hearts, and for these we plead in the name of the Divine Prince of Peace…”

Despite warnings of possible excommunication, local Catholic political, business and community leaders formed opposition groups to combat Rummel’s move to push for integrated Catholic schools in 1957. They even appealed to the Vatican but were rebuffed by the Holy See. Rummel was even the recipient of a burning cross on the front lawn of the archbishop’s residence.

Ultimately, three leaders were excommunicated, but the opposition continued and delayed the integration plans of Rummel. One reason for delaying was the recognition that white Catholics would leave Catholic schools if integrated and go to the public schools which were not yet integrated. So, archdiocesan leaders advised Rummel to wait to integrate Catholic schools until the public schools integrated in 1960.

In listening to Bishop Latino talk about his memories of all the events, he lamented the fact Archbishop Rummel suffered greatly from the intolerance and disrespect, but admired Rummel’s steadfastness in his mission in the face of that suffering. Latino even remarked that the church missed an opportunity to make a bold statement to the world by bestowing Rummel with the red hat of a Cardinal – honoring a man with principles like rails of steel from which he did not waiver.

In future articles, we will explore the integration of Catholic schools in our diocese which has a similar path though I am not aware of any excommunications. We also will throw in some more insights from our Emeritus.

(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson)