Character Notes, A&E – Fr. Francis Vindicare

Last Saturday, I heard an NPR interview with an Irish author, who quoted E.L. Doctorow on writing a novel:

“It’s like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”

At the start, I loosely outlined Angels & Enemies. I also started writing before I finished the outline. The structure of A&E is a bit unique because, in my mind, I viewed this as a mini-series featuring Twilight-Zone-style vignettes, each featuring its own plot and a twist at the end. I ran into a snag with Episode 1 when I presented the plane crash scene to the Denver Writers’ Group. I was new to the group, and they still refer to that critique as “Kerry’s bloodletting.” One of the guys there, Kevin Cullis, had been an Air Force pilot for 13 years, and pointed out some flaws in my narrative. I thought I had researched it well, interviewing a few pilots, but Kevin helped me out tremendously with his point of view. Instead of belaboring the crash rewrite, I moved on to Episode 2 – The Sally Ramirez Story.

We first see Fr. Francis when the Jesuit says a funeral Mass. An incident occurs, and he is as confused by it as the other witnesses. He consoles Sally Ramirez after, having no clue how much Sally would change his life. As his creator, I had no idea, either.

Later, I realized it would be necessary to perform an exorcism. In college at St. Bonaventure University, I met a Franciscan Friar who was also a native of Rochester, N.Y., Alphonsus Trabold, O.F.M., who was a Vatican-sanctioned exorcist. Regrettably, I never took his “Spooks & Specters” class, although I heard many stories about Trabold from those who did. The internet is a wonderful thing, and I was able to locate some of his exorcism notes and the prayers he used, a handful of articles about him and even a descriptive of his personal effects that were archived after his death. I wanted to base my exorcist on Fr. Trabold.

My initial vision of the book contained very little religion. I did not want to introduce a busload of priests to muck up a rollicking good time with a dozen or more evil demons. I wanted only one. Well, perhaps two. With a few bishops and archbishops in the bleacher seats. Since I had already introduced Fr. Francis, I decided that he would be my Trabold.

This minor character took on a different light. His confusion over the event at the funeral evolved into his way of diminishing panic among the congregation, for in his past, he had been face to face with evil many times. More importantly, he had been defeated by evil. When demons, the enemy of his faith, come to roost in his back yard, he is compelled to action by what he knows. He is reluctant, but not fearful. One of the key messages of the novel is that fear is the greatest tool of the devil.

In some ways, I made light of Francis’ weaknesses. He is a sucker for his greatest temptation: the cookies in the sacristy kitchen. Like St. Joseph and many others, Fr. Francis is motivated by a dream. He faces his reservations in a public way, and is spied by a little girl who asks why he is crying. Without spoiling the story, his reaction is one that turns what would ordinarily be perceived as a weakness into a powerful display of his greatest strength. It is probably my favorite scene to read, as it is touching, packed with emotion, tempered with natural beauty and with humor. The little girl confirms the priests convictions in a surprising way, and look out, Lucifer! There’s a new sheriff in town.

Fr. Francis will likely be remembered in Angels & Enemies for doing something that only two other mortals have achieved. Yes, that is dramatic, because Fr. Francis is an overachiever. I hope that what lives on in the mind of the reader is Fr. Francis’ eloquent definition of the soul, of its corruptibility, and why it is sought by the powers that rule heaven and hell.

That is the cornerstone of this novel about spiritual warfare as it exists in the present-day world, just as it has existed throughout recorded time. I think Fr. Francis, the minor throwaway-character-turned-protagonist, conveys that the fight is not merely one that is fought between the supernatural forces of angels and demons, but one that is fought within each of us, daily.

This week, I have sent pitch letters to three more agents in the hopes of getting Angels & Enemies published. I have no fear that it will be ignored for long. In fact, I think I’ll have a cookie.

The Perfect Mile-High Slice

It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy these days. I’ve learned to take stock each day of what I have and to place less stock in what I want but do not have.

One thing I did not have was a consistently good pizza place in Denver. “Back East,” plenty of places fit the bill. Here in the Rockies, many pizza places use frozen crust. Um… sorry, no! Without naming names (ahem! Blackjacks, Pahaha-pa Murphy’s) the pies were pretty awful. I enjoyed a slice from Denver Pizza Company once, and when I ordered a whole pie, there was nothing to it. Their wafer-thin crust was just sad, no matter how tasty the toppings. A few dine-in places have been passable.

The best things in life sometimes happen by accident. Today, I stopped for cheap gas ($2.85/gal, read it and weep, friends!), but the pumps were closed due to renovations. I turned into the parking lot across the street, and saw a pizza restaurant called Pantaleone’s NY Pizza and Pasta. I have been known to buy things based solely on how fun their name is to say.

I made a mental note to stop back sometime. Then, before leaving the lot, I parked again. I had not had my adventure for the day yet, and although I wasn’t hungry, I wanted to try a slice. With a name like Pantaleone’s, it had to be authentically Italian.

The owner was hustling food out to a table and acknowledged me. Turns out I was in luck. He had one slice of sausage pizza left. While I watched him put the monster-sized slice in the over, I noticed that among his family portraits were photos of Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and other Yankees, and that his beer tap had a Yankees logo instead of a beer company. “I’m not a baseball fan,” he stated. “I’m a Yankee fan.” I’ve been trying to tell Yankee fans something like that for years.

The slice comes out of the oven, and as he is putting it in the bag, the guy tells me, almost as an afterthought, “I make my own sausage, you know. The stuff you buy, it can’t compare.” Ah, pride in workmanship. One of the keys in Kerry’s successful restaurant marketing course.

I was going to drive across town and indulge, but I was curious, so I took a bite before I pulled out of my parking space. The thin crust had a crunch to it on the bottom, and as the flavors combined in my mouth, the crust seemed to melt into the fresh tomato sauce, mildly herbed, and a fresh mozzarella that was not tough and chewy, but delicate. The sausage, as the pizza man predicted, was incomparable. I savored each bite, searching for flaws, finding none. It may very well have been the best slice of pizza I ever tasted. At just over $3 a slice, I found the serving to be the perfect size to satiate a lunch appetite.

A wondrous slice of pizza off the beaten path, discovered entirely by accident. Pantaleone’s on Holly Street, tucked back in a small plaza across from the Bradley’s gas station near Evans Ave. is the answer to my quest for delicious pizza in Denver. It’s not for the faint of heart – the large 18” pie is $26, and the 12” pizza – the equivalent of a Papa Johns or Pizza Hut “large” — is about $14.   Still, I may not have anything nasty to say about Yankee fans until after Spring Training is over.