Philadelphia-native Rocco Palmo, writes the blog "Whispers… (Erik M. Lunsford, St. Louis…)
A 28-year-old guy living in his parents' basement in South Philadelphia just might be one of the foremost experts on the Archdiocese of Baltimore, if not the whole American Catholic Church.
Rocco Palmo facetiously calls himself "The Church Whisperer," and over the past six years, his blog has become a must-read for ecclesiastical insiders. After starting with just three readers a few days before Christmas in 2004, Palmo has built up a audience of roughly 500,000 unique visitors each month. When he attends church conferences, he's treated like a rock star. Archbishops line up to shake his hand.
His most recent scoop occurred last week when Baltimore's own Archbishop Edwin F. O'Brien was appointed to the prestigious post of grand master of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. The news broke in Palmo's blog, "Whispers in the Loggia," on Aug. 27 — two days before the appointment was officially announced by the Vatican.
That's not bad for a guy who, unlike his competition in the Catholic press, has managed to develop highly placed sources in the Holy See without ever having lived inRome. It's not bad for a guy with a college degree in political science who learned journalism on the fly. And it's not bad considering that Palmo is covering a notoriously secretive institution whose sources could be excommunicated for slipping him information.
"People always want to know how I find out pontifical secrets," Palmo said during a recent meeting at a Fells Point restaurant.
"I was raised in a large Italian family, and that's a pretty good template for the upper reaches of the Vatican. Everybody knows, but nobody knows. There are things that aren't talked about at the dinner table. But after every family gathering, there's a five-way conference call. Our natural instinct is to share."
Officials at the Baltimore archdiocese weren't thrilled that O'Brien's departure leaked out two days before the official announcement; they would have liked to notify their priests, nuns and parishioners themselves. But they weren't surprised.
"Given Rocco's contacts and access, it's not uncommon for his blog to have these scoops," says Sean Caine, the archdiocese's director of communications.
"I think it's great to have another source of information about the church that is widely respected, accurate and informative. Rocco knows more about the history of the Archdiocese of Baltimore than anyone on the outside that I've ever met, and as much as most people on the inside."
Palmo declined to speculate about the name of Baltimore's next archbishop, saying that it will be at least three months before finalists surface. But he suggested that O'Brien may make some controversial decisions while awaiting his replacement.
"There's a long tradition of desk-cleaning when archbishops step down," Palmo said.
"He will want to leave his successor in the best possible shape and spare him from making unpopular decisions. I would not be surprised if decisions began to be made about whether certain parishes should be consolidated or closed. He has the authority to do it."
Not just any blogger or religion writer could have broken the news of O'Brien's departure.
"It was a dazzling scoop," said Patricia Rice, a longtime, freelance religion writer based in St. Louis. "Nobody seemed to know about it. Nobody. It's a very nice assignment, very desirable, and there were a lot of rumors. Someone else was expected to get it. O'Brien's name was never mentioned."
(The ancient order of knights that O'Brien will head currently supports schools, health care and humanitarian relief in the Holy Land.)
Palmo wasn't born church-obsessed. He grew up in South Philly with his mother, who was employed in the office of a trucking company; his father, who worked in the circulation department for the Philadelphia Daily News; a younger sister — and 31 first cousins.
"I wasn't into the church as a kid," he says. "I had to get dragged to Mass. I thought it was boring and flat."
That changed in July 1991, when Anthony Bevilacqua celebrated his first Mass at home after having been elevated from archbishop to cardinal. While greeting a line of well-wishers, the prelate got down on one knee to chat with 8-year-old Rocco.
The boy later wrote a thank-you letter, a correspondence began, and the family was invited to visit Bevilacqua in his office. The cardinal started mentoring the young boy with the inquisitive mind, and before long, Rocco had the run of the archdiocese. He began almost unconsciously to absorb the fine points of ecclesiastical history, canon law and a subject even more byzantine — the inner functioning of the church bureaucracy.
"I got to know people," he said. "We began to talk about what was going on. And, it just captivated me. The expectation was that I was going to become a priest."
How could they help but open up to him, given the widespread news of priest shortages, the ever-dwindling number of young men studying to be ordained?