As word spread of Cardinal Francis George's death, Catholic parishes throughout the Chicago area and suburbs stopped classes in their schools, halted the workday at offices and paused to reflect on how the admired leader personally affected their communities.
At St. Pascal Catholic Church in Chicago's Portage Park neighborhood, where George went to school and was ordained, officials planned a special prayer service for Friday night in his honor.
"He's probably the biggest overachiever this neighborhood's produced," said Gene Kummerer, a parishioner who interviewed George at an event the church held to celebrate its centennial last year.
On that night, the church was packed with people interested in hearing from the boy who grew up to be the first Chicago native to hold the high title of archbishop of Chicago, Kummerer said.
"He reminisced about growing up on the Northwest Side. I asked him if he could name all the nuns who taught him, and he did."
In the late 1990s, George sat down with Preston Kendall and other backers of the work/study educational model to green-light the first school in Chicago's Pilsen neighborhood.
"We're certainly going to pray for his soul and the good will that he brought us," said Kendall, who is president of Cristo Rey St. Martin College Prep in Waukegan.
"We're very indebted to him. I'm looking at a picture right now — it's here on my desk — of Cardinal George with us when we opened at a little grade school in Pilsen," he said.
Recalling the discussions on opening the school, Kendall said "he was a very intellectual guy. He wasn't the warmest, most gregarious person, but he was very sincere and intense person, and a person who really followed his faith.
"He was very good to us," added Kendall, who has been the head of St. Martin for three years. "He believed very, very strongly that this new model of education for low-income kids was a real service to the church."
Dennis Zalecki, a pastor at St. Anastasia Catholic Parish in Waukegan, called George's passing "a sad day for the archdiocese."
"He was our spiritual shepherd, and so many people were endeared to him," Zalecki said. "Throughout his suffering, he walked in confidence and trust in the Lord."
On Friday night in Mundelein, officials at the University of St. Mary of the Lake, which is also known as Mundelein Seminary, rang the bells 78 times, recognizing George's 78 years of life.
"It's the seminary's way of acknowledging an important event," said Dianne Giovanetti, secretary for the Rev. Robert Barron.
Giovanetti said the seminary also put up black bunting in front of the chapel and will dedicate Mass to George every day until his funeral.
The Rev. Gary Graf, now in Chicago, remembered George as a mentor who was known for being stoic but encouraged innovation.
"The world called him 'cardinal' or 'archbishop,' but to me, he was 'pastor.' First and foremost, he was a pastor to pastors," Graf said. "A lot of priests would talk about how they were kind of afraid to suggest or do something because they were afraid he wouldn't approve of it or be OK with it.
"He was not good about taking compliments or giving compliments," Graf added, "but you knew right away if he was OK with something. You felt a sense like a father would give to a son when they're very proud or very pleased, and you felt that."
The Rev. Thomas Koys, of St. James at Sag Bridge Church in Lemont, said George frequently reminded government officials and Catholics that religion is not just something people do one day a week
"He was a man of faith who understood the problems we (were) facing as a church and a society," Koys said.
George was based in Chicago but knew the Lemont church. When a major restoration project was completed in 1998 for the church's 165th anniversary, George held a Mass to rededicate St. James, Koys said.
Rick Maechling, 47, of Lincoln Park, laid a bundle of purple carnations at the door of the archbishop's residence in Chicago on Friday afternoon as a sign of respect.
Maechling, who is Catholic, said he discussed religious readings such as encyclicals with George in discussions held by the University of Chicago.
"He was a great scholar and a compassionate leader at the same time," he said.
"It's sad. We'll miss him. He's gone on to a higher place. He's completed this chapter and he's on to his next path, the one he lived his life for," Maechling said.
More than a hundred people gathered at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago for a Friday evening Mass dedicated to George.
Parishioner Herman Murden, 30, said George led his confirmation nearly a year ago. "I knew I had to make my way down here," he said. "It was nice to see a big group of people here."
Karen Christensen and her 85-year-old mother still live a few houses down from George's childhood home on Byron Street — now Honorary Cardinal Francis George Way. Her uncle and George were friends who played baseball and were altar servers together.
"Even when he was traveling all over the world, he'd always come back and visit. He never forgot St. Pascal's," she said.
"We watched him as he worked his way through, and my dad said he wouldn't be surprised if he became pope," she said. "He never thought about himself, he always thought about other people. I just remember him being very loving."
Moran and Olson write for the News-Sun and Zumbach for the Chicago Tribune.
Pioneer Press' Jennifer Fisher, Chicago Tribune's Wes Venteicher, Paulina Firozi and Lolly Bowean, and Daily Southtown freelance reporter Frank Vaisvilas contributed.
Copyright © 2015, Chicago Tribune
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