-Caveat Lector-

an excerpt from:
>From Major Jordan's Diaries
George Racey Jordan©1952 All rights reserved
LCCN 52-6448
Western Islands
395 Concord Avenue
Belmont. Massachusetts 02178
PRINTING HISTORY
Harcourt, Brace edition published 1952
Free Enterprise edition published 1958
American Opinion edition published 1961
The Americanist Library edition published 1965
170pps — out-of-print
--[11]--

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Priest Who Confronted Stalin

Many surprising things turned up on the Pipeline, but most unexpected of all
was a priest.

Before I tell the story of Father Orlemanski, it is necessary to recall some
details of the tragic fate of Poland. I speech on Jan. 22, 1944 Winston
Churchill gave the clue that the Western Powers were planning to deliver
Poland, one of their staunchest allies, into Russian hands. The Prime
Minister could afford to take the public lead; he had no Polish constituency,
while the United States had 3,000,000 citizens of Polish birth or descent. At
Teheran, four months earlier, Poland's death-sentence had been arranged; it
was to be executed at Yalta early in 1945.

Prominent roles in the tragedy were played by two American citizens who were
cleared from Great Falls to Moscow on April 12 and 19, 1944. Both had been
equipped by the State Department with passports authorizing travel to the
Soviet Union, and by the War Department with military passes for the Western
Defense Command (Great Falls) and Alaska Defense Force (Fairbanks).

First to arrive was Oscar Richard Lange, professor of economics at Chicago
University. Born and educated in Poland, be had been a traveling fellow of
the Rockefeller Foundation from 1934-36 and had come to America in 1937, at
the age of 33. He was naturalized in 1943.

I first heard of Oscar Lange from Colonel Kotikov, who was leaving on one of
his mysterious hurry-up flights to Washington. He asked me to keep a
particular look-out for a man "high in Polish affairs" who would be passing
through on the way to Moscow. He could be identified because he "walked with
a limp." On account of an urgent appointment in Edmonton, he was to be sent
along without delay.

As my diary records, Professor Lange arrived on April 11 and departed early
the next morning. In the press of other business I took little notice except
to examine his papers, which were in order. But I sat up when a telegram was
forwarded by the Airbase Commander. It was from General Marshall, who sent
his personal order for the professor's clearance. I thought, "This Lange must
really be a V.I.P." Never before, at Great Falls, had such intervention from
the Army Chief of Staff occurred.

The second American was Father Stanislaus Orlemanski. To the best of my
information, Professor Lange and Father Orlemanski were the first Americans
to pass the "Iron Curtain" stretched across the Bering Sea.

Father Orlemanski was the pastor of a church in Springfield, Mass. He was
possessed by the idea of an heroic mission. He would confront Joseph Stalin
face to face and wrest from him a promise that Communist persecution of
religion would cease. For such a dream there have not been too many parallels
since the Middle Ages. In the year 1219 another of "God's fools," Saint
Francis of Assisi, trudged across a no-man's land in Egypt, through the
Moslem camp where there was a price on every Christian head, and stood at
last before the Saracen commander-in-chief. To Sultan Malik-al-Kamil the
friar preached the Gospel and implored him to accept baptism. The monarch
smiled, but granted safe-conduct to Francis and remarked to his courtiers
that for the first time he had met a "true Nazarene."

On the morning of April 18 Colonel Kotikov telephoned us that he had been
stranded at Billings, Montana. In a B-25 bomber, Colonel Boaz, Major Paul
Reid and I flew to the rescue, returning about 2:15 the same afternoon.

There in my office, sitting with an air of tranquil patience, was a Catholic
priest. He was nearly six feet tall and had the build of a husky workingman.
We shook hands and exchanged names.

Quite simply, Father Orlemanski said that he was on the way to Moscow. I,
Major Jordan, was to put him on a plane. He spoke with the serenity of one
who had taken to heart the favorite maxim of Saint Francis of Assisi: "Cast
your care upon God, and He will protect you." Thinking of the fate in store
for a priest in Russia, I was horrified.

I demanded his credentials, never dreaming he could have any. To my
stupefaction, he offered military passes for the Alaska Defense Force and
Western Defense Command, bearing the names of their respective chiefs, Major
General Simon B. Buckner and Major General David McCoach, Jr. Next he
produced a passport from the State Department empowering him to travel to the
Soviet Union by way of Egypt, Iraq and Iran. He also had visas for the three
countries.

I asked why he was in Montana instead of the Near East. The Soviet Consulate
in New York, he answered, had instructed him to ignore the visas and report
to me in Great Falls. I went immediately to Colonel Kotikov, who showed me a
wire from the Soviet Embassy directing him to facilitate the priest's
departure. He was bound for Moscow by personal invitation from Premier Stalin
himself.

"But it isnt safe!" I objected. "Your people have been killing priests by the
thousands!"

"Ho, ho!" Kotikov laughed. "Was years ago, during bad part of Revolution.
Today, under the great Stalin, religion in Russia very fine." He shrugged off
the visas for Egypt, Iraq and Iran.

"Stalin wants him. Is visa enough," he said.

Full of worry, I went back to Father Orlemanski and. asked how it happened
that he, a Catholic priest, had been  invited to, Moscow by Joseph Stalin. He
explained that his flock was made up entirely of Poles, by nativity or
heritage, and that he had been besieged with questions, which he could not
answer, about the fate of the Catholic religion in their homeland. Would it
be suppressed? Would it be allowed to survive? Would it be tolerated for an
interval and then destroyed? Had the hour not come for trying to bring about
good relations between the Vatican and Kremlin?

Believing in direct action, Father Orlemanski sat down and wrote an appeal to
the one man in the world who had the answers.

No letter could have been more providential for Stalin. He was preparing to
swallow Poland, a morsel notoriously indigestible. There was urgent need of
help from quarters which were Polish and non-Communist. Father Orlemanski was
both. That he was also an American, and beyond all else a Catholic priest,
was too good to be true.

It happened that the Springfield cleric had published some writings on the
position due to labor in society. The son and pastor of workingmen, and
himself no stranger to manual labor, he had advanced ideas on the subject.
His writings came into Stalin's hands.

The result was one in which the pastor saw the hand of God. Through the
Soviet Consulate in New York he received a cordial invitation to go to Moscow
as Stalin's personal guest, for a discussion across the table of the matters
cited in his letter.

"When Mr. Stalin invited me," the priest told a correspondent in Moscow named
Harrison E. Salisbury, "he sent a message to Mr. Roosevelt and asked him if
it was all right for me to come over and, if it was, to fix it up about my
travel papers."

Out of his native independence, Father Orlemanski responded with demands so
uncompromising that they might have served as an example for the White House
and State Department. He had the boldness to dictate the three conditions
under which he would accept Stalin's invitation: (1) He would not travel to
Moscow unless there was a sworn understanding that he would talk with Stalin
himself. (2) In case of an attempt to elude the promise after he got there,
and foist some lesser person upon him, be would take the next plane home. (3)
Under no circumstances would he travel with Professor Oscar Lange, who had
been suggested as a companion.

I told Father Orlemanski that transportation would not be available till the
following afternoon. So I phoned for a reservation at the Rainbow Hotel and
asked him to tell me about himself.

He was 54 years old, and pastor of Our Lady of the Rosary Church on Franklin
Street, Springfield, Mass. His father was an immigrant from Posen who had
come with his young bride to Erie, Pa., in 1876. They had ten children, five
girls and five boys, of whom four became priests. The elder Orlemanski
started life in America as a common laborer, but gained a modest fortune in
the contracting business. In 1912 he won a Carnegie medal for heroism: he had
risked his life in an effort to snatch a stranger from death in a railroad
accident.

In 1917, two years after ordination, Father Orlemanski was sent to
Springfield to found a parish in a settlement of Polish-Americans who were
employed in local mills. There were only 80 families, but the number grew in
27 years to 965, aggregating about 3,000 souls. Beginning with a rented
tenement, he developed a parish center, not without fame, which covered more
than a city block and was valued at half a million dollars. It boasted a
school, convent, community house, rectory and an extraordinary new church,
dedicated in 1940. Most of the construction was done with their own hands by
men and boys of the parish, who gave their work free. As carpenter, plasterer
and painter, the priest toiled shoulder to shoulder with the others. He
himself designed the church. He finished with an expression that was very
old-fashioned and somehow touching in an era of installment buying and public
deficits: "There isn't a penny of debt!"

By this time I began to feel protective toward Father Orlemanski. Though not
a Catholic, I was moved by his courage, simplicity and faith. I asked whether
he had flown before. He had never been on a plane, and had traveled from New
York to Great Falls by railway, at his own expense. He had no parachute.

"Do I need one?" he asked.

Under regulations, he could not board a plane without it and it would be
useful in getting to the ground, I said, if anything happened. He looked so
disturbed that on impulse I offered to lend him my own. But he must be sure
to return it, as the Army would charge me $125 if it were lost. (The
parachute arrived by -express several weeks later.) To show how the apparatus
worked, I buckled it over his black coat.

"Father," I warned, "if you do have to jump don't start praying till you've
counted 10 and pulled the release handle. After that, you can pray your
hardest." He laughed, and said he would remember. I saw him to the hotel and
asked him to lunch at the Officers' Club at 11 A.M. the next day.

We entered the club with Colonel Kotikov, in Red Army uniform. Eyes bulged
and jaws dropped. While the Colonel chatted with other Soviet officers, I was
glad to have the priest to myself, for I had another question, and a serious
one. Did he have the sanction of the Catholic Church for his one-man crusade?

A look of distress crossed his face. To be frank, he admitted, he was acting
against orders from his superior. This was the Most Rev. Thomas M. O'Leary,
Bishop of Springfield, who has since died. He had told Bishop O'Leary of the
invitation from Stalin, and had been expressly forbidden to accept it. "There
were fences," he said, "and I had to leap over them."

He realized that if he went to Russia, it would have to be as a private
individual. The Church must not be committed in any way. If he got back
alive, and had accomplished something of benefit, the rest would be up to his
Bishop. The priest had applied for his first vacation in 30 years and it had
been granted. So here he was in Great Falls, severed temporarily from his
parish and free, as he imagined, to act on his own.

I had thought of a small service that would make the trip to Fairbanks more
pleasant. Going to the ready-room where pilots waited for assignment, I asked
whether any of them spoke Polish. A stocky, blond lad, whose name I have
forgotten, came forward.

I introduced him to Father Orlemanski before the takeoff. They broke into
happy exchanges in their own tongue as Colonel Kotikov and I walked with them
to the C-47. The priest's farewell word to me was: "Bless you, Major, for
such a good Polish pilot!" I went to my office and wrote in the date-book:
"Rev. S. Orlemanski departed for Moscow, 14:40."

At Fairbanks, it appears, the transport halted only long enough to take on
gas and a Soviet pilot. Father Orlemanski had no chance to dismount. It seems
probable that no one at Ladd Field knew he was aboard. The first night was
spent in Siberia, at the third airfield beyond Nome. According to my list, it
was Nova Marinsk.

The flight across Asia was punishing. Winter still prevailed. Due to cold,
altitude or motor noise, or all together, the priest's hearing was
permanently injured. There was a day when the plane got lost. The pilot was
too stubborn to consult his maps or too proud to admit that he didn't know
how to use them. Father Orlemanski was accustomed to taking charge and making
decisions. He got out the maps, identified points on the ground and convinced
the pilot he was 150 miles off the course.

He arrived in Moscow on April 25, and was Promptly fastened upon by Professor
Lange. They were in a theatre at 10 P.m. when a messenger notified Father
Orlemanski that a car was waiting to drive him to the Kremlin. He arose and
so did Lange. The priest halted.

"If this man is going along, I'll stay here," he announced.

The economist dropped back into his seat and the priest went alone to meet
Stalin. Also present at the Kremlin were Molotov and the interpreter, Pavlov.

No respecter of persons and the son of a fearless man, the priest talked to
Stalin as if he were a member of his own parish. At emphatic moments he did
not hesitate to pound the table and shake his finger in the autocrat's face.
He addressed the Generalissimo as "Mr. Stalin" or simply "Stalin." Flatly he
declared that Poland must never have Communist rule, but a government modeled
on the American system.

For his part, the wily Stalin acted to perfection a role that was to take in
Americans more worldly than Father Orlemanski. Such a performance tricked
President Truman into praising him as "good old Joe," and led General Arnold,
returning from Teheran, to swear that Stalin was not a Com. at all, but the
soundest of democrats.

In every respect he was the jolly, flattering host, full of deference and
good humor. He made jokes, and laughed heartily at those cracked by the
priest. Throughout he used the respectful title of "Father." No offense was
taken when the' pastor charged that Communism was persecuting the Catholic
Church. On the contrary, Stalin protested, he was an ardent champion of
liberty of conscience and worship. After a decent resistance, he admitted
that Father Orlemanski was right about everything.

When he saw that the spell had taken effect, Stalin go down to business. At
Sumy, he revealed, was the Red Army's first detachment of Polish recruits,
numbering 8,000. For the moment, at least, they had been christened the
"Kosciuszko Division." Tadeusz Kosciuszko, one of Russia's most formidable
enemies, was a hero of the American Revolution, an aide to General Washington
and an honorary citizen of the United States. Father Orlemanski himself was
the founder of a society in America named the "Kosciuszko League." Visibly he
was enchanted by what seemed the happiest of omens.

If he liked, Stalin went on, it would be possible to arrange for Father
Orlemanski to inspect the camp, and perhaps speak' a few words to his
countrymen. The pastor accepted gratefully, and in his enthusiasm consented
to a further proposal that he should address the Polish people over the radio
and a half hours had passed when the session broke off.

"You won't believe me," Father Orlemanski exclaimed afterward to a friend,
"but when Stalin was talking to me couldn't help thinking to myself: 'There
is a man who would make a good priest!'" Stalin, it has been said, trained
for the priesthood in his youth.

The Washington Bureau of the Tass Agency broke the story for the morning
papers of April 28. It was confirmed by Radio Moscow. All the globe was
electrified by news that Stalin and Molotov had been in conference with a
Catholic priest from America. Dispatches stated that no Catholic priest had
entered Russia, at least openly, since 1934. Only rarely, they emphasized,
did Stalin receive a private person, and almost never a religious one.

Russian newspapers, on April 29, gave the episode a play. reserved for guests
of highest official rank. On front pages were headlines and group photos of
Stalin, Molotov and Father Orlemanski. It was noted that the Generalissimo
was smiling broadly.

In the United States this caused a tumult. Polish cliques branded Father
Orlemanski as a man of "divided loyalties." The Springfield chancellor
announced that "diocesan authorities had no knowledge of the pastor's trip to
Russia" and that the journey "was made on his own initiative, without
permission." Speaking for the National Catholic Welfare Conference, the Rt.
Rev. Monsignor Michael J. Ready, its general secretary, described the mission
as "a political burlesque, staged and directed by capable Soviet agents." He
added pointedly that one would like to know "the exact part our own
government had in the performance."

Secretary Hull admitted that the State Department had supplied passports to
Russia for Father Orlemanski and Professor Lange. They went as private
citizens, he declared, and in no way represented the American government.
Both had been invited to Moscow by Soviet authorities. At a news conference,
the President diverted inquiries from himself to the chief of the Passport
Division, Mrs. Ruth B. Shipley. Everyone knew her severity in granting
passports, he pointed out, and whenever an applicant got by Mrs. Shipley, it
was certain the law had been complied with.

One midnight, toward the end of April, I was aroused by a telephone call from
New York or Washington. The speaker was a woman correspondent for a wire
service. She asked whether I had cleared a Catholic priest through Great
Falls to Moscow.

She repeated the question in several forms, taking care not to mention Father
Orlemanski's name. I was sleepy and shivering with cold. I instructed her
that any information about Father Orlemanski must come from Colonel William
Westlake, chief of public relations for the Army Air Forces.

"Thank you, Major," the girl chuckled, "you've told me exactly what I wanted
to know."

Newspapers revealed the next morning that Father Orlemanski had been routed
through Great Falls. The airfield's gates were thronged with reporters, who
waylaid mechanics and crewmen and learned from them that a Catholic priest
had been walking about with me.

A general in Washington got me on the phone. Had I seen the newspapers? I
had. "Well," he shouted, "you've certainly stuck your neck in a sling! What
right had you to put a priest on a plane and send him to Moscow?" The voice
was full of menace.

I hastened to remind him that Father Orlemanski, in addition to a passport,
had two permits from the War Department, covering the Western Defense Command
and the Alaska Defense Force. Evidently this was news to the General. There
was a pause. In a very different tone, he muttered; "Oh, I see!" He hung up,
and that was the last I heard from the Pentagon.

In the meantime, Father Orlemanski visited the "Kosciuszko Division" at Sumy.
A special train was put at his disposal the four-day round trip. He was
pleased to note that the me were duly provided with Catholic chaplains. He
assured in a speech that he was no Communist, and led cheers Poland, the
Soviet Union and the United States. But he  declared that Stalin, to his
personal knowledge, was atrue a friend of Poland and the Catholic religion.
Of similiar tenor was his radio address to the Polish people.

Back in Moscow, he was taken in charge by Salisbury bureau chief in Russia
for the United Press, and by a commentator for the Columbia Broadcasting
System, James Fleming, who was a Catholic. They knew that turmoil was raging
in America, and were fearful about the reception was awaiting Father
Orlemanski. The public would have only his word, the declared, that Stalin's
intentions were friendly and peaceable, The pastor would be "slaughtered"
unless he could furnish tangible proof—something over Stalin's signature, for
example.

        On that evening the priest had a second engagement at Kremlin, which
also lasted two and a half-hours. He said "Mr. Stalin, I have to have
something in writing. I have some sort of statement from you to take back to
America." The Generalissimo answered that it was a "good idea."

    The remainder of the night was spent by Father Orlemanski  in drafting
two documents. One was his own statement summarizing conclusions reached at
both interviews. The other contained two questions, for which Stalin was
asked to give signed answers. Father Orlemanski's statement, sanctioned by
Stalin, was released on the day the pastor left Moscow. It read in part:

Unquestionably Marshal Stalin is the friend of the Polish people. I will also
make this historic statement: Future events will prove that he is well
disposed toward the Catholic Church ...

"Poland should not be a corridor through which the enemy passes at will and
destroys Russia," said Stalin.

He really wants a strong, independent, democratic Poland to protect herself
against future aggressors.

He has no intention of meddling in the internal affairs of Poland. All he
asks for is a friendly Poland.

As to religion, the religion of our forefathers shall be the religion of the
Polish people. Marshal Stalin will not tolerate any transgressions in this
regard.


Salisbury and Fleming were delighted when Father Orlemanski produced the
other document, signed by Stalin. The document ran as follows:

Translation of the answers of Marshal Stalin to questions by Rev. Stanislaus
Orlemanski.

Q. Do You think it admissible for the Soviet Government to pursue a policy of
persecution and coercion with regard to the Catholic Church?

A. As an advocate of freedom of conscience and that of worship, I consider
such a policy to be inadmissible and precluded.

Q. Do you think that cooperation with the Holy Father, Pope Pius XII, in the
matter of the struggle against persecution and coercion of the Catholic
Church is possible?

A. I think it is possible.


Stalin invited Father Orlemanski to a third meeting, from which the priest
excused himself. He was in haste to report the success of his mission at
home. After 12 days in Russia, he departed on May 6 in jubilation. The priest
had no doubt that he had managed single-handed to negotiate a private
concordat with Stalin guaranteeing the Catholic church against persecution
throughout the Communist world. As evidence that Christianity 'was still free
in Russia, the guileless cleric took with him a basket of Easter eggs
procured in Moscow.

Disillusionment began at Fairbanks, where he arrived three days later. The
War Department, alarmed by public clamor, refused him transportation to Great
Falls. Borrowing $200 from a Catholic chaplain, he took passage on a
commercial airliner and reached Seattle May 10. His journey across the
continent was accompanied by a blare of headlines. At a press conference in
Chicago, he made public the questionnaire signed by Stalin. He was welcomed
by his parishioners with music, banners and acclamations. From Bishop
O'Leary, however, came a missive ordering him into seclusion. The charges
were "disobedience" and "treating with Communists."

He was not helped by an announcement from the Apostolic Delegate, Archbishop
Cicognani, that Father Orlemanski, like every priest, was subject to his
Bishop. There could be an appeal, if he wished, to the Pope, but the
Apostolic Delegate had no jurisdiction.

After two days the pastor surrendered. To Bishop O'Leary he wrote a letter of
apology. An old friend and enthusiastic admirer of his accomplishments as a
parish priest, the Bishop on May 21 allowed him to celebrate Mass once more
at Our Lady of the Rosary Church. His two papers, including the document with
Stalin's signature, were sent by ordinary post with a three-cent stamp, to
Archbishop Cicognani. Presumably they are now in the Vatican archives.

Early in the following June the Premier of Free Poland, Stanislaus
Mikolajczyk, arrived in Washington to offer a last desperate prayer for the
life of his country. He refused to receive Professor Lange, whom he regarded
as a notorious Soviet propagandist. Mr. Bohlen, of the State Department, sent
for Mikolajczyk.

Although Lange was a Marxist, Bohlen asked the Premier to see him in the
interest of good relations between the USSR and the United States. Unable to
refuse, Mikolajczyk had to listen to Lange's "realistic" views. Stalin, he
said, thought Poland unadapted to Communist rule, did not wish to dominate
the country and had no interest in its internal structure.

Soon afterward the Premier had a conference with Mr. Roosevelt, who thanked
him for meeting Lange and suggested that he talk also with Father Orlemanski,
"a good man, pure and decent, possibly too naive, but with the best of
intentions." Father Orlemanski would tell him that Stalin favored religious
freedom and particularly freedom for the Catholic Church.

Father Orlemanski had reported, he went on, that Stalin was troubled by
religious separatism. Obviously he did not wish to become, like the Tsars,
head of the Greek Orthodox Church. He might agree to a union of the Catholic
and Greek Orthodox faiths, with the Pope in command of both. What did
Mikolajczyk think of sending Father Orlemanski to Rome to submit this idea to
the Vatican? The Premier answered dryly that he would be ready to believe in
Stalin's sincerity after he released many Catholic priests still held in
Soviet prisons.

Poland was sold down the river at Yalta in February, 1945. Three months later
Stalin and Harry Hopkins met companionably in Moscow to discuss the
"Government of National Unity" which was to be the intermediate step toward
that country's absorption in the Soviet empire. There would be 18 or 20
ministries, the dictator said, of which four would be offered to
Mikolajczyk's faction. The rest would go to the pro-Soviet "Lublin regime."
What would Hopkins think of Professor Lange as a member of the new Cabinet?
The only objection offered by Hopkins was that the economist might be
unwilling to give up his American citizenship, which was only two years old.
Shortly afterward Lange was in Warsaw getting himself re-naturalized as a
Pole.

I It was decided that he should become Ambassador to the United States. For
an obscure pedagogue, he proved to have unparalleled backing. Former
Ambassador Davies entreated him in a letter to accept the appointment for the
sake of Soviet-American friendship. Arthur Bliss Lane, Ambassador to Poland,
warned the State Department that Lange had been known for years as a
Communist sympathizer, but his warning was ignored. On July 5, 1945 Poland's
Stalinist government was recognized by the United States and the United
Kingdom.

As for Father Orlemanski, he is still pastor of Our Lady of the Rosary
Church. But events in East Europe have taught him that the only freedom of
religion tolerated by Communism is freedom to serve as an organ of the state;
and that Communist cooperation with any creed is impossible save on terms of
overlord and vassal.

One condition of his reinstatement was a promise of silence regarding the
mission to Moscow. He is quoted, however, as reflecting sadly: "Stalin tried
to use me and I tried to use him, for the good of my Church. He won and I
lost."

It is possible that he finds a bit of comfort in remembering the occasion on
which Stalin took him to admire Lenin's tomb. The priest said to Stalin: "I
suppose you'll be having a bigger one." Then he looked him in the eye and
said: "Because YOU know, Stalin, You too will die some day, like the rest of
us."

pps.114-125
--[cont]--
Aloha, He'Ping,
Om, Shalom, Salaam.
Em Hotep, Peace Be,
Omnia Bona Bonis,
All My Relations.
Adieu, Adios, Aloha.
Amen.
Roads End
Kris

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