Carny Priest : Father Mac, as Pope’s Emissary, Goes On With the Show

Some say that when Msgr. Robert McCarthy was a young boy he should have forsaken God’s calling and run away with the carnival. Instead, the genial monsignor waited until he was a priest to become a carny.

“Father Mac,” as he is affectionately known to his unusual congregation, is the Roman Catholic Church’s official Pope-appointed clergyman assigned to travel with carnivals to spread the Gospel.

As part of his whirlwind tour to more than 4,000 carnivals dotting the United States, McCarthy spent several days at the Orange County Fair last week overseeing Mass, baptisms, christenings and the other spiritual needs of the 600 or so workers of B & B Amusements.

He walked through the fairgrounds greeting his roving congregation as they erected rides such as Superstitious Mountain and Gravitron. He was easily recognizable in his black suit and white collar with a matching baseball cap emblazoned with “Father Mac.”

As he strolled through the cluttered grounds, the carnival workers called out to him, pleased to see his familiar face.

“Father Mac is a friend to everybody,” said Cindy Fry, who runs a cotton candy wagon and has traveled with the carnival for more than 30 years.

Richard Clark, a carnival worker who was erecting the fair’s rides, recalled that he last saw Father Mac in Montana, around 1988. “Remember? It was raining so hard you had Mass on the bumper cars,” Clark said, evoking laughter from the priest.

For as long as he can remember, McCarthy has had an interest in carnivals. It wasn’t the parade of animals or the roller coasters or even cotton candy that caught the young priest’s eye, he said. Instead, it was the 500-pound woman who stood in a tent while people laughed at her. Or the operator of the Ferris wheel who was automatically blamed when something came up missing in the host town.

After befriending several of the carnival workers, McCarthy said, he found ordinary people who loved their families and worried about paying the bills, not thieves or freaks as they are so often portrayed.

“Carnival people have always been discriminated and looked down on,” McCarthy said. “Some clergymen would even look down on them . . . they are bad people, they drink, gamble, have tattoos.”

McCarthy however, does not agree with that stereotype. “They are just ordinary people who chose to do this for a living,” he said.

Realizing he had found his calling, McCarthy set out to bring understanding and compassion to this unique group of people. His chance came in 1970 when Pope Paul VI appointed several clergymen to target migrant populations under the Pastoral Care of Itinerant People. McCarthy officially became the Carny Priest.

Since then, he has been to countless carnivals, clocking thousands of miles with his vestments in one hand and plane tickets in the other. He attends as many fairs and festivals held annually throughout the country as his schedule allows, returning to his home parish in Watertown, N.Y., in late fall.

McCarthy’s carnival work doesn’t end even in the off-season. During the winter he conducts mass services for carnival workers who have died during the year.

“What is nice about Father Mac is that he understands the carnival people, he understands our life,” said Shawnee Merten, business manager for B & B. “There is a certain comfort level with that.”

At the Orange County Fair, which ends July 26, McCarthy’s duties will include blessing the midway and holding Sunday services. He also has about 10 baptisms to perform.

Although 6-month-old Jared Pederson was born in the off-season in Yuma, Ariz., his mother, Cathy, decided she wanted McCarthy to baptize him. It is only natural that Jared should be christened by the carny priest, she explained. He was born into the life and comes from a long line of carnies.

His father is currently in charge of rides for the Orange County Fair, his grandfather is the carnival electrician and Cathy Pederson runs a candy wagon.

Ironically, McCarthy says, he has become a lot like the people he ministers to.

He is a bit of an oddity and has adapted to life on the road. The traditional stole he wears during Mass is specially tailored for a carny priest--it is adorned with a cross, Star of David, elephant and Ferris wheel.

“I always carry my entire church with me--the chalice, vestments,” he said. “I just set up church on Sunday on a ride like the Ferris wheel or someplace I can find.”