My idol, Casper Johns

Although he led a fascinating career, I would be remiss to overlook his unusual early life. When born in 1930s Idaho, the newborn Casper Johns "looked just like Colonel Sanders," he said, "little white beard and everything. I was dressed like him too, right out of the womb. The doctors said it was because Mother had been scared by a chicken early in her pregnancy."

Fortunately, the affliction proved only temporary, and by the time he began attending St. Cecilia Catholic School, he only needed slight therapy to rid himself of a speech impediment that caused him to sound like a southern plantation owner.

Still, those early sufferings left their mark on the lad; he was shy and often delved into his own little world where he called himself "Comet, the Albatross Boy."

His introversion led to much ridicule by his classmates. In his second year of school, when a student dared him to belch the spelling of a word during a spelling bee, he timidly agreed. Afterwards, his teacher, an excitable young priest named Father Shaun O’Leary, immediately conducted an exorcism on the young Johns. Father O’Leary was not faulted for his mistake, for as noted in the text, "What the Devil?" by Dr. Henry LaPlante, C.Ss.R., D.D.S., S.T.P., Satan does indeed sound just like someone belching the alphabet.

Six months later, some bad meatloaf left Johns the subject of a second exorcism.

When he entered high school, Johns began to write. Being poor in math, Johns, for example, would answer problems such as 9x7=___, with, "Life, a cherry pie, and an afternoon on a grassy knoll," which the teacher would somehow find added up to 63.

Soon after graduating high school, he was accepted into Edna’s School of Basket Weaving, and in three months was fully prepared to begin his career as a newspaper reporter.

Those early days as a reporter for a Catholic newspaper wouldn’t be easy on the young Johns, whose shyness made it difficult to conduct interviews, much less to attend large Church functions where he had to stand in front of people and take pictures. He would only conduct interviews from a distance of at least 50 feet from his subject, and always while wearing a potato sack over his head.

He had worse luck with photography. He would only take photographs as long as there was a wall separating him from the actual event and/or subject. When his editor finally demanded that Johns quit turning in pictures of walls, Johns paid his mother to dress up like Bigfoot, who, hunched over and arms swinging, would amble quickly through the room, allowing Johns to get his picture without being noticed. (These incidences unfortunately led to a young Dr. Raymond Pitt initiating a life-long study based on the idea that not only did Bigfoot exist, but that he was Catholic.)

Taking notes also presented difficulties for Johns, whose slow fingers were only able to write down every third or fourth word that the subject/speaker said. Then there were times when, desperately trying to write down a quote, his hand would seem to rebel. The speaker may say, "The Book of John tells how Jesus …," but Johns’ nervous hand would write, "Betty’s School of High Quality Dancing," which led to general confusion and at least one recorded instance of gnashing of teeth by his bishop.

In 1967 his mother was arrested for IML (Impersonating a Missing Link), and Johns was forced to make a decision. He called on a power greater than himself, and on an historic day in 1973 – after six years of intense therapy — managed to march half-way up an aisle to get a photo of their cathedral architect receiving an award from PAS (Plywood Appreciation Society).

Over the years, Johns would overcome many of his weaknesses – including his fear of three-bean salad; he would earn the Pulitzer Prize for Spelling, and would publish several books, including "Church and Politics," "A Study of the Pontificate," and "Big-Hearted Bigfoot; The Story of My Mother." He retired in 1995 as editor of the National Catholic Beacon.

Before he died in 2002, I asked him if he would offer some words of guidance. He thought for a moment and said something about never giving up on yourself, despite your weaknesses, because God certainly never would. It was something like that, anyway. I was only quick enough to write down a few words, but somehow I don’t think he was too concerned.