Bishop Finds Packet of Trouble in Opening Mail

Roman Catholic Bishop Robert Lynch was opening his mail one day about six weeks ago when a marriage license and a “crazy little note” fluttered from an envelope.

The license, dated May 1, 1981, bore the name of the Rev. Patrick J. Clarke, the beloved pastor of a large, active parish along the northeastern reach of Tampa Bay.

When confronted, Clarke admitted he had been secretly married for the last 15 years. Lynch told him he must choose between his wife and a ministry that requires he remain single and celibate.

Ordinarily, Lynch wouldn’t have seen the license: His staff has strict orders against passing along anonymous letters. But his secretary was on vacation, leaving the bishop to open his own mail.

That envelope might have been Pandora’s box.

As he told reporters about Clarke’s secret marriage last week, Lynch also announced that another priest had recently resigned after admitting that he used $225,000 of parish funds to buy the silence of his former male lover.

And the next day, Lynch found himself answering questions about a third priest, who last spring was accused of molesting someone years earlier and was sent to a Washington rehabilitation center.

The Rev. Simeon Gardner, 69, may face criminal charges for embezzlement. The Rev. William Lau, 46, is expected to remain at the rehabilitation center for “an extensive period.”

But it is Clarke’s secret marriage that has captured the imagination of residents, who wonder how a man so treasured could have hidden such a huge part of his life from a close-knit community.

“I don’t see how he could have done it for so long without a breakdown,” said Joanne Ryan, a parishioner at Espiritu Santo Parish in Safety Harbor for the last 16 years.

Difficult as it is, it can be done, according to Lee Breyer of Tallahassee, one of about 2,000 members of Corpus, a national group that promotes opening the Catholic priesthood to married men and to women.

“How he kept this secret beats me. I just couldn’t do that,” said Breyer, who left the active priesthood in 1968 to marry a former nun. “But people do. This priest who is married for 15 years is not unique.”

There had been whispers about Clarke’s secret life. Two years ago, someone plastered cars in the church parking lot with fliers admonishing Clarke to “go home and take care of your family.” Clarke denied to the bishop who then led the diocese that he was married, Lynch said.

And when Lynch took over the 335,000-member diocese eight months ago, an anonymous phone caller tried to tell him about the married priest. Lynch refused to listen to someone who wouldn’t give a name.

When the unsigned letter slipped through, Lynch had a diocesan lawyer verify that the certificate was real. When Clarke returned from vacation in his native Ireland, Lynch approached him.

“He expressed great sorrow, embarrassment and pain,” Lynch said.

Clarke also asked for a leave of absence to decide whether he wanted to divorce his wife and continue serving as a priest, or to remain married and leave the active priesthood.

Clarke, 52, has not spoken publicly since the announcement. His wife, Barbara Rominger, has only said that she would support her husband no matter what he decided.

County records indicate she has had one son since marrying Clarke, but neither Rominger, Clarke nor Lynch would verify that the couple have a child.

Apparently, the couple spent limited time together on Clarke’s one day off each week. He lived at the rectory and Rominger lived in nearby Dunedin.

That arrangement is typical among women carrying on secret relationships with Catholic priests, said Lee Breyer’s wife of 27 years, Carol Ann Breyer of Tallahassee.

“The women involved in these relationships tell us they don’t see much of their priest husbands. They don’t really have a full life together,” said Breyer, a Corpus board member.

Inside Clarke’s church, a massive stucco and tile building near the center of Safety Harbor, a scenic town of 16,000, some of the 10,000 parishioners are ready to forgive their priest.

“I think it must have been very hard for him,” said Joanne Ryan, whose four children were baptized by Clarke. “I hope the bishop goes ahead and forgives him and allows him to come back.”