By Paula Day

It was to be Boston's loss and Atlanta's gain.

The young priest in the 1940s wanted to go South and "work with the colored." Boston's Archbishop Richard Cushing gave permission and the Savannah-Atlanta diocese welcomed Father John McDonough.

"It was the best move I ever made," says Monsignor McDonough after 44 years of ministry in his adopted diocese. The transplanted Bostonian is celebrating 50 years as a priest this month.

Formerly rector of the Cathedral of Christ the King, pastor of St. Peter's in LaGrange and St. Mary's in Rome, he also founded Holy Spirit in Atlanta. Officially he has been vicar general, vicar for Religious, archdiocesan liaison between Christians and Jews, Serra Club chaplain and moderator of the Atlanta Archdiocesan Council of Catholic Women. Unofficially he is a 'dean' of Atlanta priests.

His "most difficult" assignment, he says, was administering the archdiocese during the final illness of his longtime friend, Archbishop Thomas A. Donnellan.

With an anecdote, Monsignor McDonough shrugs off the observation that he has held many responsible positions in the archdiocese.

"When I was in college," he recalled, "whenever anyone wanted someone to sing for a performance, they'd say 'Call on McDonough. He has no shame.'" However, a fellow golden jubilarian, Father Thomas Gilroy, SM, believes there is another reason for this willingness to accept responsibility.

"Nothing fazes him. His standard answer is 'No problem -- there won't be any difficulty.' Those are the words of a man of faith," Father Gilroy said.

Responsibility never squelched Monsignor McDonough's joy in human relationships. Known for his repertoire of jokes, he has always been in demand as a toastmaster. At parties, when a piano was available, people would gather around as he led everyone in singing.

In the late 1950s he and another golden jubilarian, Father John O'Shea, and the late Monsignor Michael Manning began playing golf together on Thursdays, their day off. What became known as "the Thursday group" developed. It was not only an opportunity for brother priests to enjoy one another's camaraderie, but as one priest put it, the group "gave a tremendous amount of support and affirmation that was very, very powerful for a relatively young priest."

The group still has six active members, according to Father Richard Morrow, pastor of Prince of Peace in Buford. But it misses Monsignor McDonough's presence.

"He was the glue that held the group together," commented Father Edward O'Connor. "Without him, it's chaos. It's slacked off and become disorganized since he's not been active."

Monsignor McDonough is not one to pass up the challenge of chance. He will bet on anything, according to Father Morrow, "the weather, a football pool, the Masters."

Gerard O'Connor, who lived at Holy Spirit parish for a year, says Monsignor McDonough would ask obscure questions at the dinner table, such as the distinction between and pro-nuncio and a papal nuncio. The young Irishman recalls winning a bet on a challenging question only one time, when he translated "La Petite Auberge," correctly. "He paid up on the spot," O'Connor reports.

"He's a great debater, will take any side of an argument," Father O'Connor commented. "He enjoys a good discussion." The pastor of St. Theresa's parish in Douglasville claims he learned much practical theology listening to Monsignor McDonough and other mature priests discussing theology over a meal.

John Francis McDonough was born July 28, 1914, in South Boston, the third of Mary and Thomas McDonough's seven children.

It seems to him now he was "always an altar boy," and he remembers a close relationship with his pastor. He worked around his parish church of St. Augustine doing odd jobs such as shoveling snow and stoking the furnace, until he graduated.

To think of becoming a priest "was in the air," and it was not unusual for a number of young men from a parish to go to the seminary. But after high school the future priest worked a year and attended Boston College for two before he entered St. John's Seminary in Brighton. Bishop Cushing, Boston auxiliary at the time, ordained him May 1, 1941.

Father McDonough served as assistant pastor in two parishes before enlisting in the Army in 1944. His assignment to Fort McClellan, AL, introduced him to the South. There he became familiar with the work of the Society of St. Edmund, an order of priests working with blacks in Alabama. He negotiated with Bishop Cushing to volunteer to work in the South for five years. Bishop Gerald O'Hara welcomed him to the Savannah-Atlanta diocese in January, 1947, and it took him only three years to decide he wanted to stay.

"I found Atlanta a delightful place," he recalls. "The people were warm. I tried desperately to get some of my classmates to come South. Somehow I knew the South was going to be a very active pace, and it was, and is."

The priest from Boston has watched as the Catholic population in Georgia has grown. He estimates there were only 500 parishioners in the Cathedral parish when he went there in 1947 as an assistant pastor. The city then had only five parishes.

"There was a spirit about Atlanta -- always," he recalls. "It was a growing city, an energetic city. Even in those days the Catholic families had a certain amount of influence, culturally and socially."

And the "priests paid their dues," one longtime Atlanta Catholic has observed. For Father McDonough that meant a lot of time spent on the road.

The three years he was pastor of St. Peter's in LaGrange he drove each Saturday to Griffin to hear the confessions of the sisters there. He made weekly trips from Rome to Fort Oglethorpe during the five years he was pastor of St. Mary's. Hours spent in traveling were common for priests then, Monsignor McDonough said.

Although there were "tough times," Monsignor McDonough's memories are rich. "I found this a good place to practice my ministry," he says. "Just being a part of a growing metropolis and seeing the Church expand was a source of great joy. I'm not sure I paid much attention to it as I was going through it, but the joy was there."

He has good memories of the bishops he has known.

Archbishop O'Hara was an "in-and-out man, accustomed to doing things," he recalls. "He was archbishop and there was no doubt about it." As papal representative to Romania, apostolic nuncio to Ireland and then apostolic delegate to Great Britain, Archbishop O'Hara was frequently out of the diocese.

When Atlanta became a separate diocese in 1956, Bishop Francis Hyland became its first ordinary. The "quiet man" from Philadelphia negotiated the rough waters of school desegregation but found the experience very stressful, Monsignor McDonough recalls. When he resigned in 1961, Bishop Paul Hallinan was appointed Atlanta's first archbishop.

Archbishop Hallinan "knew what he believed in," Monsignor McDonough says. "He was a great liturgist and did great work at the (Second Vatican) Council."

Monsignor McDonough's favorite boss was Archbishop Donnellan, with whom he worked for 20 years. The two men were similar in age and background, coming from working Irish parents and northern cities.

"He was a practical, good, kind man," Monsignor McDonough observed. "He was close to the Church, close to priests. He was, I think, a real churchman, believed in it."

"I could never explain to my priest friends in Boston the difference between Boston and Atlanta," the golden jubilarian mused. "I guess it was the feeling of freedom down here. The system was more open. There were so few of us."

Monsignor McDonough has had no small impact on those whose lives he's touched.

Murphy Faust, his secretary for 27 years, served as something of a buffer between him and the many demands on his time. "Tell Murphy," his response to ad hoc requests, gave him time to make appropriate decisions, Mrs. Faust points out.

After her husband's retirement, she asked Monsignor McDonough, "When are we going to retire?"

"When I think Pete can stand to have you home all day," he bantered back.

"He's very conscious of people's problems," commented longtime Cathedral parishioner, Jim Conrads. "He pays attention to your question, your problem. Doesn't just brush it off."

Marist Father Jim Cummings, a friend for 44 years, recalls Monsignor McDonough's generosity. "For example, he helped a poor parish out of his own pocket for years."

Another Marist, Father Phil Gage, attended Christ the King School when Father McDonough was an assistant in the late 40s and early 50s. As an altar boy he remembers the priest celebrating the Latin Mass with "such attention, intensity, recollection. It touched me, moved me, especially his seriousness at the Consecration. I was caught up in the mystery of the Eucharist."

Father Gage also remembers him as an approachable confessor.

"He had great compassion and understanding in the confessional. He made being a priest seem an attractive and worthwhile goal."

Another former student at Christ the King School, Sister Kathleen Purser, GNSH, "remembers very vividly what a happy person he was. He thoroughly enjoyed life. He said Mass for the kids and always had interesting stories in his homilies. They had a message and made me pay attention," not an insignificant accomplishment for a homilist she admits now.

Longtime Holy Spirit parishioner Cy Kupecky recalls that when his wife died Monsignor McDonough cut short a vacation to say the funeral Mass.

"He's a marvelous preacher, so gentle, so loving at funerals," Father Morrow observed. "You can sense a fondness and knowledge of the deceased."

Gerard O'Connor calls Monsignor McDonough "a pure gentleman," who has "tremendous compassion and dignity."

Father Ed O'Connor's comment, "He's one hell of a priest," would seem the kind of irreverent tribute that fits the monsignor from Boston.