The Pride of Chicago 

We all experienced a bit of shock when the name of the new pope was announced after “Habemus Papam!” In Latin, we heard the name of Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, who took the name Pope Leo XIV. Then it sunk in: he was an American.  

Yes, he is American, in the sense that he is from both North and South America, having grown up in the U.S. but served extensively in Peru. There has always been a sense that no one from the U.S. would ever be elected pope, but in many ways, Cardinal Prevost was the “least American” of the 11 U.S. cardinals, due to his time in the missions and, more recently, in the Roman Curia.  

For me, a more interesting aspect was that he was from the South Side of Chicago, as am I.  

Initial reports indicated that he was a Cubs fan (the North Side team). Sadly, that turned out to be wrong; he’s actually a White Sox fan. Someone at Major League Baseball was able to find a clip from a 2005 World Series game with then-Father Prevost in the crowd. 

But his parents had a mixed marriage – his mom was a Cubs fan and his dad rooted for the St. Louis Cardinals, according to the new pope’s brother John. We had a similar situation because even though both of my parents grew up on the South Side, Dad was a Cubs fan and Mom loved the Sox. My Mom and Dad’s 50th anniversary happened in the same year that interleague play first counted in MLB standings, so a local TV station did a story about them.  

The similarities with my experience don’t end there. He was born in Beverly, a neighborhood I knew well because several of my high school seminary classmates were from the same area, and I spent many weekend nights hanging around their local haunts. 

His family later moved out of the city to Dolton, a south suburb. My family grew up in Hometown (yes, the city is really called that), also in the south suburbs. His local parish, now vacant, is no longer a Catholic church. The parish merged with another, as have many urban parishes across the country. My parish merged with another and the church is now a mosque, as the Muslim population in the south suburbs booms. When we were growing up, we didn’t know any Muslims in our area. 

Inspired by Augustinian Fathers who were his teachers, Pope Leo attended St. Augustine Seminary in Holland, Mich., rather than the archdiocesan seminaries in Chicago. Even if he had attended Quigley Seminary South (a high school) or Niles College, we probably would not have crossed paths. He is four years older and would have graduated before I arrived. 

Pope Leo XIV’s brother Louis recalled how the family would visit downtown Chicago to see the decorated windows at Marshall Field’s at Christmas time or the Museum of Science and Industry or the Field Museum of Natural History, typical outings for our family as well. 

The new pope and I share another odd coincidence. During college, both of us worked for Catholic cemeteries, mowing grass and such. Despite the summer heat and occasional rain, it was a good job, with plenty of exercise and time to think, pray and even practice singing for the church choir. I would think young Rob Prevost had a similar experience. 

Although we know popes had to have been kids once, it doesn’t usually occur to us that they played with neighbors, argued with siblings and enjoyed deep-dish pizza. But Pope Leo grew up with remarkably the same kind of life I did. Who would ever have thought such a thing would be possible? Certainly not me. 

And I guess I can forgive him the White Sox thing, as long as one of his first apostolic exhortations includes the declaration that Chicago pizza – thin-crust (square cut, of course) or deep-dish – shall always be better than New York Style, forever and ever, amen.  

Email Christopher Gunty at editor@CatholicReview.org

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