The cold face of the St. Elizabeth rectory gives no indication of comfort within. Inside, its walls are painted in bright crimsons and calming blues, adorned with pictures of the Savior. Some priests ended their lifework here, meeting their Maker in the bedroom where windows overlook the courtyard behind the church. Built in 1948, the rectory was designed to house four priests and a live-in housekeeper. Today, the priest lives alone.
Robert Bates has not been inside the building for more than 20 years, though it often crosses his thoughts.
Bates did not attend the church. He and his mother were members of St. Vincent de Paul at 31st Street and Flora, where his mother did clerical work for the church. His father left when he was 2, and his nearest male relative was a half brother, from his mother's first marriage, who was already old enough to have fathered a boy the same age as Bates.
In 1980, a young man named Earl Johnson came to St. Vincent de Paul to finish his education and preparation for the priesthood. He was a tall, burly man, with a rough beard and rosy cheeks. While he worked at St. Vincent de Paul, Johnson lived in the St. Elizabeth rectory.
He took an interest in Bates, then 12, and the two became friends. Johnson tried to provide everything Bates needed. He bought the boy so many meals at Kentucky Fried Chicken that Bates still avoids the restaurant.
Bates and his friends — three neighborhood brothers known as good athletes — became regular guests at the rectory on weekend nights. There were few rules. They would stay in the rectory's entertainment room, eating popcorn or watching movies all night. "We pretty much ran the block," Bates remembers.
The priests at St. Elizabeth were heavy drinkers, and they encouraged the boys to share their habits, Bates says. He could always ask the priest for a bottle. Once, when Bates and his friends were drinking in a nearby park and saw police walking toward them, they ran for shelter at the rectory, leaving the beer behind.
If gifts didn't convey his affection for Bates, Johnson would grip him and pull him close, whispering in his ear that he was a good boy, that Jesus was proud of him and loved him.
"I'd never been around men before," Bates says. "I didn't know how to take any of it. Then he'd be bear-hugging me when we were alone and talking to me and bringing God into it. I didn't know if that's how men acted."
Only once did Bates question Johnson's friendship. On one Saturday visit, he and a friend had agreed to help clean the rectory. Johnson greeted them and insisted that they change so they wouldn't dirty their good clothes. Johnson provided them with T-shirts and shorts two sizes too small and gave each a feather duster. Then he set them to work reaching up to dust the light fixtures. As Bates dusted the dining-room lights, he looked down at a gathering of priests eating dinner together. They were giggling, whispering and pointing at him. Bates dismissed it as a social mannerism of adult males that he didn't yet understand.
Two weekends after cleaning the rectory, Johnson called Bates. He invited him to the rectory and promised him that the athlete brothers would be there. It was late summer.
Johnson picked him up that night and drove him to the rectory. Other priests were there, some whose names Bates didn't know. The brothers weren't there, but Johnson promised they'd be along.
"Oh well, I guess that's just more fun for us then, right?" Johnson told him later when the brothers didn't show up.
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Of course the Priests targeted boys in trouble. In addition to being the most vulnerable, those boys would make the least credible witnesses and be the easiest to blame for what happened to them.
Of course the Priests targeted boys in trouble. In addition to being the most vulnerable, those boys would make the least credible witnesses and be the easiest to blame for what happened to them.
Tearing down the rectory will not tear down the haunting memories. An apology and removal from the church for those involved will help. god does love you it just the Catholic authorities abusing God's name.
Tearing down the rectory will not tear down the haunting memories. An apology and removal from the church for those involved will help. god does love you it just the Catholic authorities abusing God's name.
As for the rectory? "They ought to burn that son of a bitch down."
I am responding to the story published in the Kansas City Pitch news,"The Ghosts of St. Elizabeth".
This story about victims who were sexually abused by priests, is very familiar to me. This story personally touched my heart and soul because it is so similar to what happened in Woodsfield, Ohio at St Sylvester's church, especially the part about the church rectory. From what I know, abuse occurred to boys in the St Sylvester's rectory as far back as the 1940's.
About 20 years ago, I learned that St Sylvester's parish priest, Fr Robert A Brown, had sexually abused many boys. This was the catholic church which I attended during my childhood in the town of Woodsfield, Ohio, where I grew up. This knowledge still angers me to this day.
Around 1998, my grown daughter and I made a visit back to Woodsfield, where I was raised the oldest of eleven kids. I showed my daughter the house where we had lived on Louisville Rd. and, of course, I showed her the catholic school that I attended when I was a kid. It is not the school that exists now, I attended the old two room school which is still located right next to St Sylvester's church. Lots of memories were flowing that day, as we strolled up the walkway to the cemetery to visit the grave site of my favorite grandma. I can still remember the day my grandma was buried. I was only 14 when she died, so I wanted to share with my daughter a little piece of my childhood.
As we were walking back down the walkway from the cemetery, I turned around and noticed the church rectory, and then all of a sudden I pictured all the abuse that took place in that house. I said to my daughter, " there it is, that is where all of the abuse happened�. I think that was the day I made a commitment to myself.
That day I had a vision. I pictured myself having found all of those boys who had been sexually abused in that house by that very charismatic 'fire and brim stone' kind of preaching priest. At that moment, I hated everything about that place, and I felt so angry because that priest succeeded in fooling so many, many people. In my vision, I wanted to connect with all of those boys who were abused by him. I saw us gathering around that rectory, we would talk, we would laugh, we would share stories, we would cry, and then we would all hold hands, encircle that ugly dirty rectory, and then we would torch it, and burn it down. Then we would sing, roast marshmallows, and we would be free.
I had this vision for many years after that day, and I worked hard to make this vision a reality.
Two years ago, in August of 2006, to my shock and amazement the diocese of Steubenville released the news that they had received a credible allegation pertaining to abuse of a minor child by Msgr. Robert Brown, former pastor of St. Sylvester Church in Woodsfield, Ohio, and by Mr. Paul Ditto, former volunteer at St. Sylvester Church in Woodsfield, Ohio. The alleged abuse took place between the years of 1976 and 1978.
I was so excited; the dirty secret was finally made public. I immediately made arrangements to drive back to Woodsfield and I called a press conference to reach out to others who had been abused by Brown. When I got to St Sylvester's church where we had planned to hold the press event, I could not believe my eyes.
That church rectory was completely gone. It had vanished. I was told that it had just been torn down that summer and new grass was just starting to grow.
My vision was destroyed. My vision of holding hands in a circle all around that house was not going to happen. That rectory was torn down by the leaders of the Steubenville diocese before I even had a chance to find all of those boys who had been used and abused by a priest who was very good at manipulating and abusing the innocence of kids. Fr. Brown was also very good at using his power over the vulnerability of adults to satisfy his own selfish monstrous ego.
I can completely confirm the feelings of the victims' in the story posted in the Kansas City Pitch, especially as regards the rectory? "They ought to burn that son of a bitch down"
Judy Jones of St Louis, SNAP director southeastern Ohio
636-433-2511
As for the rectory? "They ought to burn that son of a bitch down." I am responding to the story published in the Kansas City Pitch news,"The Ghosts of St. Elizabeth". This story about victims who were sexually abused by priests, is very familiar to me. This story personally touched my heart and soul because it is so similar to what happened in Woodsfield, Ohio at St Sylvester's church, especially the part about the church rectory. From what I know, abuse occurred to boys in the St Sylvester's rectory as far back as the 1940's. About 20 years ago, I learned that St Sylvester's parish priest, Fr Robert A Brown, had sexually abused many boys. This was the catholic church which I attended during my childhood in the town of Woodsfield, Ohio, where I grew up. This knowledge still angers me to this day. Around 1998, my grown daughter and I made a visit back to Woodsfield, where I was raised the oldest of eleven kids. I showed my daughter the house where we had lived on Louisville Rd. and, of course, I showed her the catholic school that I attended when I was a kid. It is not the school that exists now, I attended the old two room school which is still located right next to St Sylvester's church. Lots of memories were flowing that day, as we strolled up the walkway to the cemetery to visit the grave site of my favorite grandma. I can still remember the day my grandma was buried. I was only 14 when she died, so I wanted to share with my daughter a little piece of my childhood. As we were walking back down the walkway from the cemetery, I turned around and noticed the church rectory, and then all of a sudden I pictured all the abuse that took place in that house. I said to my daughter, " there it is, that is where all of the abuse happened”. I think that was the day I made a commitment to myself. That day I had a vision. I pictured myself having found all of those boys who had been sexually abused in that house by that very charismatic 'fire and brim stone' kind of preaching priest. At that moment, I hated everything about that place, and I felt so angry because that priest succeeded in fooling so many, many people. In my vision, I wanted to connect with all of those boys who were abused by him. I saw us gathering around that rectory, we would talk, we would laugh, we would share stories, we would cry, and then we would all hold hands, encircle that ugly dirty rectory, and then we would torch it, and burn it down. Then we would sing, roast marshmallows, and we would be free. I had this vision for many years after that day, and I worked hard to make this vision a reality. Two years ago, in August of 2006, to my shock and amazement the diocese of Steubenville released the news that they had received a credible allegation pertaining to abuse of a minor child by Msgr. Robert Brown, former pastor of St. Sylvester Church in Woodsfield, Ohio, and by Mr. Paul Ditto, former volunteer at St. Sylvester Church in Woodsfield, Ohio. The alleged abuse took place between the years of 1976 and 1978. I was so excited; the dirty secret was finally made public. I immediately made arrangements to drive back to Woodsfield and I called a press conference to reach out to others who had been abused by Brown. When I got to St Sylvester's church where we had planned to hold the press event, I could not believe my eyes. That church rectory was completely gone. It had vanished. I was told that it had just been torn down that summer and new grass was just starting to grow. My vision was destroyed. My vision of holding hands in a circle all around that house was not going to happen. That rectory was torn down by the leaders of the Steubenville diocese before I even had a chance to find all of those boys who had been used and abused by a priest who was very good at manipulating and abusing the innocence of kids. Fr. Brown was also very good at using his power over the vulnerability of adults to satisfy his own selfish monstrous ego. I can completely confirm the feelings of the victims' in the story posted in the Kansas City Pitch, especially as regards the rectory? "They ought to burn that son of a bitch down" Judy Jones of St Louis, SNAP director southeastern Ohio 636-433-2511
I graduated from St. Elizabeth School in 1975. Growing up at St. E., we all knew "things" were going on in the rectory, but it was never discussed, just whispered. Monsignor O'Brien and Father Reardon were always so nice to us kids. We looked up to them. They were our "Spiritual Leaders". They would occasionally come to dinner at my neighbors house. I thought how cool for the priests to come over for dinner...little did I know. The 2 priests seemed to be drawn to the troubled kids. The ones always in trouble or from broken homes. I even remember one of my girlfriends Mom's saying how nice of them to take those boys and give them some guidance. Then we'd hear about them going to the "Lakehouse" where they had all the booze and drugs they wanted. A lot of the guys used to tell us that they could drink all the church wine they wanted, smoked pot, and saw lots of porno magazines and movies. I, like the gentleman in your article, could pick out so many of these boys from our class picture that it just makes me so sad for them. My ex-husband was one of the victims. He went to School at St. E. with me until he was in fourth grade. His parents got divorced, his father past away, and he became a prime target for Msgr. O'Brien.My ex and I would occasionally run into each other in bars or parties, and he was always a big partier. We did stay friends throughout the years, but somewhere in the back of my mind,or the pit of my stomach, I always suspected that he was part of the "group" that we all whispered about. My ex-husband never talked about the abuse, and he was in AA when we started dating. Clean and sober for a few years. He seemed to have his life pretty together. We went to visit my mom at St. Joseph Hospital where she was dying of cancer. We walked into her hospital room and there stood Msgr. O'Brien. He was the Chaplain at St. Joe's. I heard he was "sent" there. I went over to shake his hand (a little uncomfortable for me because growing up, I heard more and more stories of the abuse). Anyway he approached my ex-husband like an old friend to greet him with his arms out-stretched. My ex just froze dead in his tracks, turned white as a ghost and ran out of the room. "That" was the moment when I knew.He still never admitted that he was part of any of that. We did stay married for 6 years, and had 3 beautiful daughters. However, the drugs and alcohol and trouble with the law (he spent two years in jail)took over his life.
He lost his wife, his children, his family, a very successful business, and the respect of all his peers. He hasn't been able to hold down a job or live in one state for very long. It's like he's always running.It's been about 15 years since we divorced, and this year is the first time he admitted the abuse to me. And for the first time, he seems to be getting his life back on track. His relationship with our teenage daughters is, well, there isn't one.But he's working on it. It's a very slow process.
These boys had their innocence taken away by someone that they trusted. That we all trusted. That our Moms trusted. I'm sorry you all went through so much pain. I wish someone would have come forward, but back then, who wouldn't have trusted a priest? Nobody would have believed us.
I was the secetary at a local church. The church treasurer decided it was okay to corner and grope me. The man would show up when I was there alone - he lived across the street - and even tried to rub his crotch against my behind but was caught by the custodian.
When I reported the incident to the Board chair and the Chair of the Elders I was threatened by the two. It was absolutely horrible. To make matters worse, my husband had just been diagnosed as being terminal.
This man was a total creep and had managed to get away with it for almost 30 years at the time he felt me up.
I still suffer the aftermath. What he did to me at such a difficult time in my life, thinking that I would put up with anything and let it go......Christian?? Hardly. But the next pastor told me that a church as a place for sinners, so I should get used to it.
I don't buy that.
The pastor who was there at the time left. She has been a true blessing in disguise. Wonderful woman.
But this man - still at it, I am sure. Only now he pretends to be feeble. That is why his wife watches him life a hawk.
And to think that he could be doing this for another 20-25 years. How awful!
I graduated from St. Elizabeth School in 1975. Growing up at St. E., we all knew "things" were going on in the rectory, but it was never discussed, just whispered. Monsignor O'Brien and Father Reardon were always so nice to us kids. We looked up to them. They were our "Spiritual Leaders". They would occasionally come to dinner at my neighbors house. I thought how cool for the priests to come over for dinner...little did I know. The 2 priests seemed to be drawn to the troubled kids. The ones always in trouble or from broken homes. I even remember one of my girlfriends Mom's saying how nice of them to take those boys and give them some guidance. Then we'd hear about them going to the "Lakehouse" where they had all the booze and drugs they wanted. A lot of the guys used to tell us that they could drink all the church wine they wanted, smoked pot, and saw lots of porno magazines and movies. I, like the gentleman in your article, could pick out so many of these boys from our class picture that it just makes me so sad for them. My ex-husband was one of the victims. He went to School at St. E. with me until he was in fourth grade. His parents got divorced, his father past away, and he became a prime target for Msgr. O'Brien.My ex and I would occasionally run into each other in bars or parties, and he was always a big partier. We did stay friends throughout the years, but somewhere in the back of my mind,or the pit of my stomach, I always suspected that he was part of the "group" that we all whispered about. My ex-husband never talked about the abuse, and he was in AA when we started dating. Clean and sober for a few years. He seemed to have his life pretty together. We went to visit my mom at St. Joseph Hospital where she was dying of cancer. We walked into her hospital room and there stood Msgr. O'Brien. He was the Chaplain at St. Joe's. I heard he was "sent" there. I went over to shake his hand (a little uncomfortable for me because growing up, I heard more and more stories of the abuse). Anyway he approached my ex-husband like an old friend to greet him with his arms out-stretched. My ex just froze dead in his tracks, turned white as a ghost and ran out of the room. "That" was the moment when I knew.He still never admitted that he was part of any of that. We did stay married for 6 years, and had 3 beautiful daughters. However, the drugs and alcohol and trouble with the law (he spent two years in jail)took over his life. He lost his wife, his children, his family, a very successful business, and the respect of all his peers. He hasn't been able to hold down a job or live in one state for very long. It's like he's always running.It's been about 15 years since we divorced, and this year is the first time he admitted the abuse to me. And for the first time, he seems to be getting his life back on track. His relationship with our teenage daughters is, well, there isn't one.But he's working on it. It's a very slow process. These boys had their innocence taken away by someone that they trusted. That we all trusted. That our Moms trusted. I'm sorry you all went through so much pain. I wish someone would have come forward, but back then, who wouldn't have trusted a priest? Nobody would have believed us.
I was the secetary at a local church. The church treasurer decided it was okay to corner and grope me. The man would show up when I was there alone - he lived across the street - and even tried to rub his crotch against my behind but was caught by the custodian. When I reported the incident to the Board chair and the Chair of the Elders I was threatened by the two. It was absolutely horrible. To make matters worse, my husband had just been diagnosed as being terminal. This man was a total creep and had managed to get away with it for almost 30 years at the time he felt me up. I still suffer the aftermath. What he did to me at such a difficult time in my life, thinking that I would put up with anything and let it go......Christian?? Hardly. But the next pastor told me that a church as a place for sinners, so I should get used to it. I don't buy that. The pastor who was there at the time left. She has been a true blessing in disguise. Wonderful woman. But this man - still at it, I am sure. Only now he pretends to be feeble. That is why his wife watches him life a hawk. And to think that he could be doing this for another 20-25 years. How awful!
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