Rev. Eugene Marino; Affair Ended Rise of Black Archbishop

The Rev. Eugene A. Marino, whose rise as the top black prelate of the Roman Catholic Church in America ended when he admitted to an affair with a woman, has died.

Marino was 66 and died after apparently suffering a heart attack Sunday at St. Ignatius Retreat House in Manhasset, N.Y.

He had been a trailblazer--first black vicar of his religious order, first black secretary of the national bishops conference, and in 1988, first black archbishop, overseeing the sprawling archdiocese of Atlanta and 69 northern Georgia counties.

Shortly after his elevation to archbishop, however, he began an affair with Vicki Long, a single mother who said that the two exchanged wedding vows and rings in a secret ceremony.

When the affair was disclosed to church officials in 1990, Long attempted suicide. Marino resigned as Atlanta archbishop, severed his contacts with colleagues and entered counseling.

After a long period of treatment and recovery, he became spiritual director of an outpatient program in New York for priests troubled by mental illness, substance abuse and sexual impropriety.

He once described himself as a “minority within a minority,” the sixth of eight children of a Puerto Rican immigrant and an African American woman whose father helped build the black Catholic church in segregated Biloxi, Miss. “You were either white or black” in Biloxi, he said, so he grew up wholly within the town’s black community and spoke no Spanish.

The Marino household was ruled by hard work and religious devotion. His father worked nights as a baker, and Marino and his siblings came straight home from school to do chores and homework. The family knelt together every night to recite the rosary.

He decided on a religious vocation while in parochial school, where he was a model student and altar boy. He was inspired in his calling by his pastor, Father Joseph Maurer, who was white. Maurer was a tireless parish priest who strung lights for the church bazaar, directed the school band, poured concrete for a parishioner’s septic tank and rescued young blacks accused of violating segregationist Jim Crow laws.

“More than any one single person, he was responsible for my becoming a priest,” Marino told The Times in 1988. “All I originally wanted in life was to be a simple parish priest working for black people in a little parish in the South.”

He was ordained in 1962 as a priest in the Josephite order, which was founded in the 19th century by white priests to serve black Americans. In 1971, after several years of teaching science and religion at a Josephite seminary in Newburgh, N.Y., he was named vicar general, or second in command, of the Josephites--the first black to hold the position. He was 37.

At 38 he was elected secretary of the national bishops’ conference--again, the first black in the post. At 40 he became an auxiliary bishop in Washington.

In 1987, he was instrumental in organizing a large meeting of black Catholics and Pope John Paul II in the New Orleans Superdome, an event considered a highlight of the pontiff’s visit to the United States. Later that year, the pope named him Atlanta archbishop. Marino was 53.

His elevation was hailed as a coming of age for black Catholics, who had long been treated as second-class parishioners, consigned to back pews or segregated parishes. Among the overflow crowd of 10,000 who attended his installation were 100 bishops and three cardinals.

One of his first official acts was to review the archdiocese’s handling of sexual misconduct charges against clergy and lay employees. His action was spurred by a sexual molestation case involving a priest and four altar boys. Although indicted by a grand jury, the priest had been allowed to disappear to his native England, outraging the victims’ families. Marino, who paid each of the families a two-hour visit, won praise for helping to bring the issue of priestly celibacy to the forefront.

“Priests are subject to the same sexual hang-ups and aberrations as any other group of men,” he said in an interview a month before he resigned, “but I think most priests are serious about celibacy and faithful to it.”

After admitting his relationship with Long, a singer with a history of involvements with priests, Marino dropped from sight, his whereabouts protected by church officials. A colleague who spoke to him said his friend was filled with sorrow and regret.

Five years ago he became the spiritual director of a treatment program for priests, some of whom came seeking help for sexual misconduct. He also counseled them at retreats, and had returned from one such gathering just hours before his death.

“Everyone who met him instantly felt comfortable with him. His ability to relate to people was unparalleled,” Andrew Kelly, director of the program, run by St. Vincent’s Medical Center in Harrison, N.Y., said Thursday. “The men in the program today were expressing how sometimes they would come in with great trepidation and he would immediately make them feel at ease. . . . His level of grace and humility were inspiring.” He had told Kelly he was happy and at peace.

The late Cardinal John O’Connor, who helped bring Marino to St. Vincent’s, celebrated the 25th anniversary of the priest’s elevation to bishop in a ceremony last year.

“Today you have a new life, very different from being archbishop of Atlanta,” O’Connor said. “You are the wounded healer, affirming your brothers.”