Known as Edward Scissorhands for his merciless cost-cutting, and criticised for cosying up to the rich and the elite, Edward Egan is unpopular with many New York Catholics, writes Marion McKeone
This month, Edward Cardinal Egan celebrates the seventh anniversary of his installation as archbishop of the archdiocese of New York. His job, arguably the most high-profile and powerful appointment outside the Vatican, was described by Pope John Paul II as "the archbishop of the capital of the world". Despite the power and prestige of his position on the ecclesiastical totem pole, Egan's tenure thus far has been difficult, isolated and fraught with controversy.
He has been criticised as remote, arrogant and uncaring of his flock. He suffered a humiliating rebellion by a group of priests who excoriated his management style. He was even handcuffed while celebrating Mass at St Patrick's Cathedral by a former parishioner attempting a citizen's arrest.
Earlier this month, one New York parish launched a legal action against him. A separate, much-publicised legal wrangle with another parish was fought to the top of New York state's appellate division.
New Yorkers love the big, larger than life characters that rule and roil their city: Ed Koch, Al Sharpton, Jimmy Breslin, Ed Hayes, Donald Trump, even Hillary Clinton. To be claimed by this city as a New Yorker has precious little to do with origins and everything to do with attitude. Egan's predecessor, John Cardinal O'Connor, fitted this mould perfectly. This was the cardinal who delivered a sermon at St Patrick's Cathedral wearing a Yankees baseball cap instead of a mitre, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with striking low-income workers, who was so at ease with New York's liberal icons he even co-authored a book with Ed Koch, the city's rumbunctious and openly gay former mayor, entitled His Eminence and Hizzoner. To New Yorkers, O'Connor was more than a cardinal. He was a lime-lit, media-savvy shepherd. A hardliner when it came to the church's teachings on moral issues, he was otherwise known as a soft touch, a defender of illegal immigrants, the homeless, the working poor. He left enormous shoes to fill - and empty coffers.
It may be his cool northeastern blood, but Egan has singularly failed to become a New Yorker in the way that other religious, cultural and political transplants have done. Rather, he has been like the CEO of an ailing corporation, taking care of the finances, closing iconic but poorly attended churches, merging parishes, even turning neighbourhood schools into profit-making private academies.
The archdiocese of New York is the wealthiest and most powerful in the US. Its 2.5 million Catholics and 413 parishes span more than 180 miles. It has a multi-billion dollar property portfolio and owns hundreds of schools, hospitals and universities. After seven years, Egan has achieved the goals set by the Vatican: the elimination of a $20 million (€14.8m) operation deficit and a $40 million (€29.7m) debt. Last month Robert Wilson, an atheist Wall Street financier, donated $24 million (€17.8m) to Egan's Inner City Schools Program.
Fund-raising has added another $100 million (€74.4m) to the kitty, ensuring that Egan will hand on an archdiocese that is, fiscally at least, in far better shape than the one he inherited. But Egan's efforts have garnered precious little recognition from his flock - other than the sobriquet "Edward Scissorhands". "Egan saves dollars, not souls," reads one of the dozens of placards carried by one of the dozens of protesters who march outside St Patrick's Cathedral every Sunday. It is a pithy summary of what New York Catholics identify as the fundamental problem with their Cardinal.
"He's all about money; if you're not rich he doesn't want to know you," says Joy McAleer, a frail but feisty 84-year-old who was secretary of St Vilnius's Parish for five decades. Now she is involved in a legal action against Egan. "Our churches, our communities here, they're nothing to him, just assets that can be sold off."
Egan's critics point to a vignette in Michael Moore's documentary Fahrenheit 9/11. To underscore his criticisms of US president George W Bush, Moore uses footage from Egan's first archdiocesan fundraiser where Egan sits alongside Bush, beaming as he toasts guests at the white-tie event as "the haves and the have-mores". "Some people call you the elite," Bush concludes. "I call you my base." They are Egan's base, too, these corporate titans of New York. They are the people he invites to the archbishop's residence on Madison Avenue, for whom he is a gracious and engaging host, even displaying his skills as a classical pianist.
Indeed, many of the criticisms that have been levelled at the Bush White House have also been directed at Egan: an obsession with secrecy, hostility towards the media, an inability to admit mistakes, a corporate mentality that can teeter on ruthless, and swift retaliation against subordinates who question his rule. He is the Vatican's Dick Cheney, running the archdiocese of New York with an iron fist.
Despite frequent calls for transparency, Egan has steadfastedly refused to disclose the archdiocese's financial reports. In a recent interview in the New York Times, he dismissed the notion, saying that since Wall Street's finest sit on his finance council, he sees no need to invite public audits. "I am transparent to the best possible people," he said.
One of Egan's people is Dennis Kelleher, CEO and founder of Wall Street Access and one of Egan's financial advisers. He says the criticism is ill-informed and misguided. "I don't know how people can be critical of him," Kelleher says. "He's a wonderful human being. He's a highly intelligent man who has done great things for the archdiocese."
Not everyone agrees. Last year Egan became involved in an ugly spat with his own priests after a letter, signed by an anonymous "Committee of Concerned Clergy", said that the relationship between the priests and their archbishop had never "been so fractured and seemingly hopeless".
Egan's response was one of fury and immediate retribution, singling out priests and implying - incorrectly it seems - that those who had criticised him were child abusers. His response was so vicious it validated at least one claim in the anonymous letter - that its authors and his critics feared to make their identities known because of "the severely vindictive nature of Cardinal Egan".
Kelleher dismisses suggestions that Egan is high-handed and remote. "He's a warm, thoughtful person, and a good and compassionate manager." He concedes, however, that in an era where style is much valued over substance, Egan is vulnerable to criticism.
New York Catholics' fractious relationship with Egan stems more from his failure to be the sort of benign tribal chieftain the archdiocese's 2.5 million Catholics seem to expect. More than anything else, it was Egan's lengthy absence from the city in the post-9/11 turmoil that ensured he would retain his outsider status. Shortly after the 9/11 attacks he left for Rome for a lengthy period. New York's Catholic communities bore the brunt of the anguish; the majority of the 343 firemen who were killed were from solid working-class Catholic families.
The writer Jimmy Breslin summed up their anger. "When the suffering was fresh he was away from New York for a scandalous amount of time, in Rome to act as a Vatican bureaucrat," Breslin wrote. "The man betrayed Catholics, and the Irish, and he puts on his red hat."
Those who deride his ambition and preference for the loftier echelons of Vatican and New York society call him "The Climber" or "Alpine Ed", nicknames that were first given to him when he was a seminarian with an eye on Rome.
Despite or because of the city's diversity - and notwithstanding the sex abuse scandals of recent years - New York's Catholics still cleave to their archdiocese. The Catholic population is growing, as is its demand for schools and churches, but its demographics are changing; it is becoming more suburban and more affluent. Parishes in Manhattan are suffering dwindling numbers, but upstate parishes are thriving.
The Catholic Church's financial difficulties are, as a New York real estate agent from the Corcoran Group puts it, "a property developer's wet-dream". With churches and schools closing, enormous chunks of real estate in Soho, the East Village and other prime Manhattan locations will likely be turned into multi-million dollar condos and luxury developments.
Earlier this year, Egan began closing 21 parishes in Manhattan. It's a grim lose-lose task that outraged thousands of New York's Catholics. Some closures turned into pitched and ruthlessly fought battles. Parishioners claim churches were padlocked by Egan, their altars and valuables spirited away in the middle of the night. New York's preservation societies voiced their outrage at the demolition of sacred historical sites. There were church sit-ins, arrests and legal actions, but Egan prevailed, even drawing praise from some quarters for avoiding more swingeing cuts to dwindling parishes.
After seven years in New York he remains an enigma, respected and feared by many but known or loved by few. His background did not mould him for populist leadership. He was just 13 when he entered the seminary, where his academic brilliance and formal demeanour set him on a sort of inner fast-track to the Pontifical North American College in Rome, better known as the "Pope's Harvard". The legalistic skills he acquired there were applied when, as Bishop of Bridgeport, Connecticut, he found himself in the eye of the US Catholic Church sex abuse storm. It transpired that Egan had failed to take appropriate action against three particularly egregious offenders. He was made defendant to a lawsuit and, despite his efforts to suppress them, court documents were released that showed an astonishing lack of compassion for the victims. After years of fighting the plaintiffs he agreed to pay $15 million (€11m) in March 2001, shortly after he was promoted to cardinal. Cindy Robinson, the lawyer for some of the abuse victims, said the settlement vindicated claims that Egan had been involved in the ongoing cover-up of the abuse.
Egan turned 75 on April 2nd and, in accordance with church law, submitted his resignation to Pope Benedict. It is unlikely he will be replaced before 2009, but already the jockeying has begun to fill the most powerful position in the US Catholic hierarchy. Egan's leadership, unpopular as it may be, will ensure his successor an easier reign.
