To Our Readers: Dec. 26, 1994

Indisputably a newsmaker, Pope John Paul II can be a reluctant man in the news. It tells you something that he admires Pius IX, the 19th century Pope who withdrew into his palace after Italy seized from the Vatican both Rome and the papal states. Reclusive is no word for John Paul, but the widely traveled figure whom TIME has made Man of the Year is still deeply and deliberately private. Meaning someone who almost never grants on-the-record interviews. Meaning, journalistically, a tough nut to crack.

On the morning of Dec. 7 in Rome, a group of TIME editors and correspondents confronted that challenge firsthand. They were glumly assembled in expectation of a papal audience they would share with roughly 7,000 others. Days earlier, Vatican spokesman Joaquin Navarro-Valls had reluctantly informed Paris bureau chief Thomas Sancton that His Holiness would decline TIME's request for a private meeting. While pleased to be chosen as Man of the Year, John Paul didn't wish to appear to have collaborated on the project. The Time team could have front-row seats at one of the Pope's massive general audiences. From there they might have, Navarro hoped, "a chance to greet him and say a few words."

A few words, even from a man whose words have global authority, was hardly what the TIME journalists had in mind. Nevertheless, executive editor Jim Kelly, chief of correspondents Joelle Attinger and Sancton, who had all been attending a London meeting of TIME's foreign correspondents, flew to Rome. There they joined TIME reporter Greg Burke and former Rome bureau chief Wilton Wynn, a veteran of Vatican coverage and a consultant for this project.

Once at the audience, TIME's delegation discovered that their seats were not in the front after all but off to the side. The Pope arrived on the marble stage to rapturous applause. Seated on a wooden throne, he read out a statement on obedience in eight languages -- including Japanese -- took greetings from international delegations, pronounced a papal blessing and departed. The 90-minute audience was nearly over. And so, it seemed, was any hope of a closer encounter.

But suddenly at their side was Navarro, whispering the long-awaited words: "The Holy Father is going to see you privately." Ushered into a reception room, TIME's visitors soon saw a smiling but slightly stooped John Paul, who entered leaning on the wooden cane made necessary by his recent bone- replacement surgery. He looked otherwise pink-cheeked and robust. Of his mind, there was no doubt. To their congratulations for being chosen Man of the Year, John Paul expressed thanks, then added, mischievously, "I see that in the past, you have given this honor to Lech Walesa and to Pope John XXIII -- but also to Stalin and Hitler!" Sancton, a bit nonplussed, explained, "Holy Father, you must understand that we have a good list and a bad list. You are on the good list." Gratified but still playful, the Pontiff replied, "I hope I always remain on the good list."