Lucien Gregoire's "MURDER IN THE VATICAN"

By Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

Why did Albino Luciani, Pope John Paul I, become the first pope to take two names; and, why was he the first to call himself "The First" when it was not clear that there would ever be a "Second?"

Like the Cheshire Cat of "Alice in Wonderland," John Paul I has faded away until only the shadow of his smile remains; soon that will be gone as well. Indeed, he is regarded as a 33 day apparition from the realm of "Anonymity" and to that "Anonymity" he has returned.

In time, after John Paul II is to be known as "The Great," obviating the need for the "II" appendage, Luciani may well become classified as a "Non-Existent Pope" in much the way that Pope John XX never existed; an interregnum placeholder, as it were. The very appellation, "John Paul I," implies that there is a "John Paul II." Perhaps this self enumeration by Luciani was not as innocuous as it appears. It may very well have provided the quantum means for the future position of "John Paul II" to negentropically "pull" its antecedent into its proximity, thereby, effecting annihilation of the apparent predecessor. As far-fetched as that idea seems, I would refer the reader to Jerry Davidson Wheatley's brilliant dissertation on this class of possibility in his "The Nature of Consciousness : The Structure of Reality.

After 455 years of having Italian popes lead the Catholic Church, a Polish cardinal ascended to the Papacy [and now a German]. This was a truly big break in the 455 year tradition of Italian leadership in the Catholic Church. What brought about this remarkable change? Like most, before reading Murder In The Vatican: The Revolutionary Life Of John Paul And The CIA, Opus Dei And The 1978 Murders by Lucien Gregoire, I knew little or nothing about Albino Luciani aside from his sobriquet, "The Smiling Pope," that he was the successor to Pope Paul VI, and may have been murdered after only 33 days in office.

Lucien Gregoire, in part two of his book, exhausts almost every possible etiology as to how and why Albino Luciani is no longer among the living and offers a large cast of characters who may be culpable of murder, including: Clerics, Masons, and Mafia. Before buying this book, I read all the reviews on Amazon.com. There seems to be a lot of nitpicking contextual criticism for the first edition re: spellings, grammar, syntax, photo quality, front cover, etc., but not about substance. This is unfortunate because it may adversely affect decisions of those considering buying and reading one of the truly important books of our time.

I have found the current edition to be excellently presented. Indeed, as a 44 year member of Phi Alpha Theta, the National Honor Society for History, it is my considered opinion that because time is the author of all truth, this book will be regarded by future historians as valuable primary source material to help unravel the stumbling blocks of obfuscation and enigma that may have been intentionally placed in the path of seekers of the truth.

Be that as it may, Lucien Gregoire has truly captured the beautiful, selfless spiritual essence of what it was that appeared to define this man. His biography, the only one that exists, as far as I know, reminded me of Marc Anthony's eulogy for Julius Caesar apprising the citizenry of what and who it was that was actually taken from them. Throughout my entire reading of this book, these lyrics and music of "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)" played over and over again in my mind:

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflecting Vincent's eyes of China blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as
beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
A silver thorn on a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Vincent (Starry Starry Night) - Don McLean