In Spokane: A Pauperish Yet Princely Churchman

Long before President Carter was asking Americans to set the thermostat at 65°, the temperature at 1908 East 14th Avenue in Spokane, Wash., had been held near 40°—not to save energy but to save money. 1908 East 14th is a drab four-room frame house in a blue-collar neighborhood. It cost $4,000 eight years ago, but at the time, as the present tenant explains, "they were having some trouble keeping the paint on it. Great strips would peel off. They were flopping all over the place."

The present tenant is the Most Rev. Bernard J. Topel, 75, for the past 22 years the Roman Catholic Bishop of Spokane and thus the spiritual leader of a diocese numbering 74,000 souls. People who worry about the worldly dignity of the church militant will be pleased to know that the bishop's residence was finally painted by volunteers four years ago. But going to lunch with his excellency might give them pause. These days, when the bishop brings home a guest, he tends to grin and confess, "Lost the front door key. We'll have to go round the back." Then he leads the way to an entrance that has been patched with plywood since thieves broke in to steal last spring. They only got $1, the bishop happily reports, and were lucky at that. Normally there is nothing of value in the house. The $1 had been put aside to buy seeds for the large, ragged vegetable garden that provides most of his food. "Funny thing," says Bishop Topel. "I've only bought one packet of seeds in the ten years I've lived here." That first packet apparently gave him a flying start on the rows of beans, peas, carrots, squash, turnips, potatoes, Jerusalem artichokes and comfrey, an herb he mainly uses for tea, that now fill his garden. Neighbors often help with the staples. "I like certain things," admits the bishop, and the word gets around. "But it is literally correct that I have not paid one penny for food for my house for the past four or five years."

It follows that the bishop does not favor rich viands, even for an occasional guest. A recent lunch visitor found himself dispatched to the garden to pluck a lettuce. As he rinsed it he was confronted with a choice between fish-head soup and lentil soup. (Not straight fish heads, the host explained. Those go for fertilizer. Rather a nourishing fish-head broth.) The guest chose lentils. Followed by some lettuce leaves, drenched in dill-pickle juice, and then by rolls (left by a neighbor) that the bishop turned into dessert by adding some home-grown rhubarb. Such frugality is not done for the mortification of the flesh or the confusion of friends' palates. "I have come to the realization," the bishop mildly explains, "that the most important thing I can do in the church, and that applies to Christians in general, is to live simply in order to give money to the poor. If you don't buy any clothes for years, that saves a lot of money too."