The Prince & the Priest

The personable young prince seemed to have everything in the world that a prince could desire: a beautiful domain, happy subjects, a private zoo, a 200-room palace, a world-famed gambling casino, a 140-ft. yacht, lots of money. If Monaco, his principality, was one of the smallest independent states in the world (it would fit neatly in the middle of New York's La Guardia Airport), there were other compensations. For example, the prince had plenty of titles (16) and a Croix de guerre for his wartime service in the French army. Still, something was lacking: the prince had no wife. Last week, in true storybook style, His Serene Highness Prince Rainier III of Monaco, 32, arrived in the U.S., looking for his princess.

Floating Hair. Of course, the princely quest was strictly unofficial, and on his arrival in New York, Rainier smilingly denied that he was seeking an American bride. Officially, the purpose of his trip was a checkup at the Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, but since Prince Rainier is in royally robust health, that was obviously just an excuse to justify the expense account. Before he left Paris last week, the Prince gave reporters an idea of what he had on his mind: "The ideal woman, I see her with long hair floating in the wind, the color of autumn leaves. Her eyes are blue or violet, with flecks of gold. Furthermore, she should be practiced in all sports without being champion in any one. I want her to be intelligent but not an intellectual. I want an ordinary woman who will give me an extraordinary feeling. I want her to give me the feeling that she is mine, only mine."

Nothing could please the Prince's 5,000 subjects more than to have him find the girl of his dreams--not merely for Rainier's happiness, but for their own as well. If Prince Rainier dies without issue, Monaco, under the terms of a 1918 treaty with France, will automatically become a French protectorate. The prospect is horrifying to every Monegasque, for it will inevitably bring French taxes and military conscription to a land of no taxes and no army, except for the picturesque 68-man Palace Guard. Every Monegasque wants to see his Prince safely married, and a princeling or two around the principality.

Until Rainier finds his bride, every loyal Monegasque wishes he were not quite so dashing. He is an accomplished yachtsman, horseman and fisherman, and is fond of wrestling with the lion in the royal zoo. He loves to skin dive, once descended 100 ft. off the coast of Corsica. In the 1953 Tour de France, Rainier wrapped his Panhard around a tree, escaped with a cut knee. Whenever he steps into one of his flashy racing cars, all Monaco breathes a prayer for his safety.

At the Prince's side last week was his good friend and royal chaplain, the Very Rev. J. Francis Tucker ("Father Tuck"), 66, a Delaware-born Roman Catholic priest who went to Monaco five years ago.

"Monaco was spiritually run down," he said recently. That was putting it mildly. Prince Rainier was often in the company of Gisele Pascal, a French actress. A mayor of Monte Carlo had married a former Sister of Charity who had nursed him in the hospital. The clergy were quarreling among themselves. The bishop of Monaco, a Frenchman, did not get along with his Italian priests.

Third-Class Weddings. Father Tuck rose to the occasion. ("The principality didn't get anything from the Marshall Plan but me," he says.) To replace the bickering priests, he imported four members of his own order, the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales, sent them bustling about the community. When the bishop died, Father Tuck was influential in the choice of his successor, a French priest who knew and understood the Italo-French people of the Riviera. Father Tuck also abolished first, second-and third-class weddings in favor of an egalitarian, one-class ceremony, and he organized the youth of Monaco in a junior Newman Club. Gradually, the spiritual condition of the principality improved. "You have brought le bon Dieu back to us," said a grateful parishioner.

Then the busy priest turned his attention to "that boy," the prince. Father Tuck thought that Rainier should get married, and the romance with Gisele did not seem likely to lead in that direction. One day the Prince took the priest to call on Gisele. The three spent a pleasant afternoon together. "What do you think of her?" asked Rainier, on the way back to Monte Carlo.

"Why, I think she's just fine," replied Tucker. "She's a real number. In fact, I could go for her myself."

"What do you mean, you could go for her yourself?" asked Rainier. "You're a priest."

"Well, you're a prince," snapped the chaplain, "and you can't go for her either."

In 1953 duty and the gentle urging of Father Tucker prevailed. Rainier and the actress parted, and Gisele leaped into the arms of Gary Cooper at the Cannes film festival. Rainier has found no steady girl friend since, though a brief encounter with Grace Kelly momentarily raised Monegasque hopes.

This week, after a look at the Bronx Zoo and a round of parties in Manhattan, Father Tuck and Prince Rainier were off on an eight-week tour that will include an appointment with President Eisenhower, Christmas in Delaware, and introductions to eligible girls from California to Texas (as a 2nd lieutenant in the French army in World War II, Rainier served as a liaison officer with the Texas 36th Infantry Division). Like the Monegasques, Father Tuck fervently hopes that he will be singing a royal nuptial Mass soon, and that Monaco will live happily ever after. He is homesick for Delaware and weary of the royal routine. "I'd like to leave Monaco," he sighed, as he sipped a martini. "This high living doesn't agree with an old goat like me."

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