The six-foot tall, slender Archbishop, with an austere countenance that commanded respect, delivered a succinct yet impactful statement to the audience of reporters. As he opened the floor for questions, Pacelli’s piercing dark eyes surveyed the eager press corps shouting out questions.
“Are you here to support President Roosevelt in his reelection?” one reporter managed to ask, his voice rising above the others.
Pacelli responded in his plaintive voice with a calm and measured tone, “As I explained in my brief, I am here on my first visit to the United States to see with my own eyes this country and feel the pulsations of its life and its labor. My desire is to know firsthand this great and powerful nation which holds such a unique and important place among all the peoples of the world.”
Another journalist, eager to stir controversy, asked, “What is the Vatican’s stance on Reverend Charles Coughlin’s scathing criticism of President Roosevelt?”
Pacelli, maintaining his composure, replied, “I am afraid I don’t have a response from the Vatican on that matter.”
Bishop Spellman boldly interposed himself between Pacelli and the throng of reporters. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming out today. Archbishop Pacelli has just arrived from a long voyage. Let’s offer him his privacy so he can get to his lodging and get settled in. Thank you, gentlemen.” With a firm hand, Spellman guided Pacelli away from the voracious crowd of journalists towards a waiting vehicle.
“Your assistance is invaluable, my friend.” Pacelli expressed his gratitude by firmly shaking Spellman’s hand.
“Think nothing of it, Your Excellency. Your schedule is packed, and I didn’t want those relentless hounds to exhaust you on your very first day. I haven’t forgotten your health concerns.”
With the protection of a police escort, Pacelli, Spellman, and their entourage swiftly departed en route to the first of many meetings with U.S. Cardinals during Pacelli’s momentous visit to the United States.
8 October 1936
Afternoon
New York City
“Cardinal Hayes, let me get right to the matter at hand,” Pacelli’s voice sliced through the air, his gaze fixed on Cardinal Patrick Joseph Hayes. The Cardinal of New York, a seasoned veteran of the Church, felt a chill run down his spine. Whispers of Pacelli’s relentless demands had reached his ears through the sacred corridors of the Church. He knew that any command from Pacelli—the Vatican’s iron fist sheathed in a velvet glove—was not to be taken lightly. Any defiance could result in catastrophic repercussions. Hayes was acutely aware that the Vatican Secretary of State’s unprecedented visit to America was no casual affair—the stakes were high, the air thick with anticipation.
“President Roosevelt’s success in the upcoming election is of paramount importance. I demand that you steer the Archdiocese of New York to rally behind FDR.” Pacelli’s words hung heavy in the room.
Cardinal Hayes, despite his initial shock, understood that this was not a request, but an ironclad command. “May I ask the reason behind this directive, Secretary?”
“That it is of the highest importance is all you need to know. Do I make myself clear?” Pacelli’s patience was wearing thin; his annoyance with the New York cardinal’s probing question was undeniable.
“It shall be done.”
“Ensure the faithful understand that a vote against FDR is a vote against God himself.”
“I will personally relay this command.” Hayes hastily scribbled down the instructions, mentally preparing to summon an emergency meeting of all the priests, bishops, and deacons of the district.
“Furthermore, I want you to reinforce America’s commitment to isolationism with your entire archdiocese.”
Hayes, his pen still moving across the paper, remained silent.
“If these directives are ignored, well, it would be a shame if the press were to stumble across your indiscretions, Cardinal.” Pacelli’s voice was icy as he slid a series of incriminating photographs across the table towards Hayes. The sight of his own face caught in compromising positions with the parish youth sent a wave of icy dread coursing through him. The whispers of Pacelli’s ruthless tactics clearly had not been just rumors. If Roosevelt were to lose the election due to Hayes’s district, it would spell the end of the cardinal’s esteemed position. The photos would undoubtedly find their way to the press.
Pacelli rose, his movement a clear dismissal. Hayes pushed himself up, his legs trembling as he glared once more at the damning photos on the table. He hastily gathered them up and trailed after Pacelli to the door.
Pacelli extended his hand, his grip cold and unyielding. “Let nothing escape these walls.” Hayes felt a chill slither up his arm as he was ensnared in Pacelli’s grasp.
“Nothing leaves this room,” Cardinal Hayes echoed, his head lowered in submissive surrender to the Vatican Secretary of State.
Once the door closed behind Pacelli, Cardinal Hayes moved to the trash can and set the photos ablaze. As the flames consumed the incriminating evidence, a bone-chilling dread gnawed at his core: Pacelli had more copies in his possession ready to shatter his revered status should FDR’s reelection fail.
8 October 1936
Evening
Inisfada Estate
Manhasset, Long Island
“Duchess Brady, it is an absolute honor to make your acquaintance,” Eugenio Pacelli murmured within the atrium of the Tudor Revival mansion, his eyes meeting those of the duchess’s. As a duchess of the Holy Roman Church, a title bestowed upon her by Pope Pius XI, Genevieve Brady was a woman of significant influence—her connections ran deep into the political heart of the U.S. It was these connections that had led Francesco to arrange Eugenio’s stay at the opulent estate.
“Your Excellency, the honor is entirely mine,” Genevieve Brady responded, her voice filled with genuine warmth as she addressed the esteemed Vatican Secretary of State. “Bishop Spellman, it is always a pleasure to see you. You appear to be in good health.”
“The pleasure is indeed mine,” Spellman replied, his gaze shifting to his left. “Duchess, allow me to introduce Count Enrico Galeazzi.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Count.” Genevieve offered him a graceful curtsy.
Count Galeazzi, a trusted friend and confidant of Eugenio Pacelli, often accompanied the Secretary of State on sensitive diplomatic missions. Although this visit to America was officially labeled “informal”, the underlying agenda was of paramount importance to the Black Nobility’s mission.
Once the formalities were concluded, Bishop Spellman wasted no time in getting down to business. “Duchess, might there be a private space where we can discuss the itinerary for Archbishop Pacelli’s visit to the U.S.?”
“Of course. My staff will ensure your entourage is comfortably accommodated,” Genevieve assured, her hand subtly gesturing to her dutiful servants. They promptly attended to the guests, ensuring their luggage was transported to their designated quarters. With a graceful turn, Genevieve led the way towards the library, a sanctuary of knowledge nestled within the vast mansion. The archbishop, the bishop, and the count trailed behind, their footsteps echoing through the opulence of the eighty-seven-room mansion. Cradled within three hundred acres of lush landscape, the Inisfada Estate stood as a testament to architectural genius and at present was the fourth largest mansion in the United States.
“May I offer you a drink, Your Excellency?” Genevieve inquired upon entering the library.
“Under normal circumstances I would decline, but that onslaught by the media has left me somewhat drained. A Cognac would indeed soothe my spirit,” Pacelli responded.
“And for you, Bishop?”
