Alf McCreary: The News Letter photographer and a ladder at Pope’s funeral

It was an extraordinary historical event, with a unique personal twist which I will always remember.

The build-up to the funeral had been immense and it was no surprise when I left my hotel near the Vatican to discover that the main road leading to St. Peter’s Square was jam-packed with people who had been camping there overnight.

They certainly were looking after themselves as they ladled generous helpings of stew and soup from boiling pots, on the main street leading to St. Peter’s Square.

As an accredited journalist I had the choice of covering the funeral from the relative comfort of the Vatican Press centre, but I chose to be with the many thousands of people crammed in the Square.

As the ceremony proceeded, I phoned back details to my newspaper – but it was only afterwards that I breathed a huge sigh of relief when someone told me that mobile phones in those days often did not work among huge crowds.

Despite all the build up, the funeral ceremony itself was movingly simple and impressive. This was the first time that I had set eyes on the then Cardinal Ratzinger who led the service. Like most others I had been indoctrinated in advance by sensational media headlines which claimed that the theologically conservative German Cardinal was “The Enforcer”, and also “God’s Rottweiler.”

However as the funeral service proceeded, I discovered that the Cardinal was a caring human being who was also mourning the death of his close friend John Paul II. He behaved with such dignity and competence that I reckoned he might be elected as the next Pope. How right I was.

As the ceremony unfolded there were many prayers, with people kneeling down respectfully. I also kneeled with respect, but I also had a perhaps irreverent ulterior motive. I realised that when kneeling down, I was better able to dictate my story to the Belfast Telegraph copytaker in Royal Avenue.

Everything was going to my plan, but suddenly I kept being prodded in the back repeatedly. I swivelled round as best I could in the large crowd, and I saw a young woman trying to push her way towards one of the metal barriers nearer to the edge of St. Peter’s Square.

She was carrying a small step-ladder over her shoulder and also a camera with a huge long photo-lens. I assumed that she was part of the Polish crowd which was surrounding us. So I whispered in slow, clear tones “There is no point in pushing on because of the massive crowd near the barrier."

Suddenly, she said to me, “I know who YOU are! You are Alf McCreary from the Belfast Telegraph.” I asked her in astonishment: “Who are YOU?”. She replied: “I am Bernie and I am taking pictures for the Belfast News Letter” and she went on her way. I had no doubt that a lady with such determination and initiative eventually got the pictures she wanted.

Looking back, the chances of a Belfast-based writer and photographer bumping in to each other in such a huge audience on such an historic day must have been literally many, many thousands to one.

The rest of Pope John Paul II’s funeral service in front of a world television audience and in the presence of royalty, statesmen and politicians, went smoothly with the sense of dignity and occasion which it deserved. The large congregation included Prince Charles, Tony Blair, George W Bush, and even the disgraced President Mugabe of Zimbabwe – who, as I recall, ambushed the Prince with an impromptu handshake.

At the end there was pure ecclesiastical theatre when the Vatican pall-bearers turned round John Paul II”s coffin to face the multitudes one last time before it was taken inside and laid in the Papal vault.

As the coffin disappeared from sight, a young black nurse beside me waved her white scarf repeatedly, and exclaimed excitedly, “Adieu Papa, Adieu!” It really was quite an occasion.

When Cardinal Ratzinger was duly elected and the white smoke from the Sistine Chapel confirmed this, I followed the career of Pope Benedict XVI with a personal interest. Far from being “The Enforcer”, he was seen by the world as a humble and caring man, though he made several gaffes.

For example, he once claimed, nonsensically, that the Reformed Churches were not really churches in the true sense of the term. In other words they were not Roman Catholic.

He was just one of many conservative theologians on all sides who believe wrongly that only they have “the true faith”

As time went on it was clear that Benedict XVI was more at home with his cats, his piano and playing Mozart, and with his can of Fanta a day.

He was right to retire on health grounds when he did. However when I look back at his part in Pope John Paul II’s funeral I often think that I was so privileged to report on such a great ecclesiastical event in world history - but I also remember with a smile my totally unexpected meeting with a photographer for the News Letter among the masses in St. Peter’s Square.

It really was – and still is - a small world.