Champion of the poor hasn't lost wit, compassion

Diabetes has taken both of his legs and left him blind, beholden to others for daily needs and a virtual captive in his small, spare room at a New Hope nursing home.

It's no wonder Monsignor Jerome Boxleitner, the former head of Catholic Charities, says his current condition makes him empathize with the inmates he used to minister to in prison.

"I feel like a Chilean miner in here," he tells visitors.

It's a classic "Box" line that shows that he hasn't lost his sense of humor, which is often deadpan and self-deprecating.

"I've still got my wits about me," Boxleitner says, "but I guess you'll be the judge of that."

For company he's got public radio and books on tape -- currently one about Christopher Columbus -- and "the other old coots" down the hall.

"What do I do all day? Look for Kleenex," he said, patting a nearby table in his quest.

He still talks about one of his recent highlights, when some old friends pulled a jail break and sneaked him down to Murray's for scotch and a steak.

The day I visited, Boxleitner was getting a haircut. He needed to look presentable because on Thursday, Catholic Charities celebrated its centennial and the archbishop was going to present Boxleitner a national award for his lifelong service to the poor.

"Probably give it to everyone with a thousand hours in," Boxleitner quipped.

Ed Flahavan, a former pastor at St. Stephen's Church, has known Boxleitner since they were teens. Both are now 79. Flahavan says his friend has remained spirited, even with his disabilities.

"The day after his leg was amputated, he called me from his hospital bed," Flahavan recalled:

"'Flav, I understand you came to see me yesterday and they turned you away. You've been thrown out of better places than this," Boxleitner told him.

"Box, how can you talk like this? You've just lost a leg," said Flahavan.

"How you Irish go on!" Boxleitner replied. "It's gone. I can't get it back. I have to go on with life. I'm German after all."

Boxleitner keeps up on current events and is known to get riled up by the politics of the day.

"These extremes are awful," Boxleitner said. "I blame [Sen. John] Marty. He cut out the booze at the Capitol. It cut out civility. If you don't have social contact with people, you don't understand them."

Boxleitner was a frequent visitor to the State Capitol himself, and sometimes legislators regretted it. During one infamous meeting, Boxleitner was lured down by legislators who were about to cut social programs.

"They brought me down on false pretenses, the rats," Boxleitner recalled.

I said the rumor was that he uttered a few choice words and stormed out. Boxleitner smiled. "I think I said [to a colleague]: 'Tell them they are full of...[it].'" he said.

I asked Boxleitner what he thought about recent news that there has never been a wider gap between the rich and the poor.

"That's disgraceful," he said. "There are not a lot of sins left, but that is one. The worst sin of humanity is that we don't give people choices."

This is the way he put it in a speech before his retirement:

"We have redirected our criticism from the system to the poor themselves. We have revived the old conviction that poverty is the payoff of immorality rather than poverty being the cause of immorality. If we are wealthy, we are favored by God who rewards our goodness. If we are poor, well, we know that conclusion."

Boxleitner misses working with homeless people because, while "a lot of them lied through their teeth," they were amazing in their ability to survive as long as they did. "A remarkable group of people. Some got out of poverty, some didn't, but they deserve our respect nevertheless."

He also misses saying Christmas Eve mass at the shelters, where he would compare the people to the lowly shepherds who got to witness the birth of Jesus.

"They bought it," he said. "You'd walk out of there and you knew you had Christmas."

Allison Boisvert accompanied him and said those masses "were probably the most profound moments in my life." Boxleitner would say mass, then "the flotsam and jetsam of the failed safety net" would all sing "Silent Night" together.

"I never got through it without crying," she said.

Boisvert said what has separated Boxleitner from others was "utter fearlessness." When bureaucrats denied a permit to expand a shelter into an adjacent room because there were so many homeless, Boxleitner thundered: "Do it anyway. I'm telling you to tear a hole in the wall today."

"He's always had a filial connection with poverty, and he did something about it," said Boisvert. "And he has done it for a very long time."

jtevlin@startribune.com • 612-673-1702