The Ear of the Heart: An Actress' Journey From Hollywood to Holy Vows (33 page)

Monsignor Lacy was somewhere in his fifties, and I thought he resembled actor Paul Douglas. From the first moment, when he asked, “Who are you again?”, we hit it off beautifully. He listened sympathetically as I spoke of my family situations in Los Angeles and Chicago, my introduction to the Catholic Church through a grade school I attended primarily for convenience, my conversion at age eleven. I rattled off anything I hoped would support my quest and assured him that Mom’s drinking, which I had lived with for a long time, had nothing to do with my decision about religious life
.

When he was satisfied that my call was real, Monsignor Lacy said that full approval was indicated. He also cautioned me to keep my name out of the newspapers and stressed that it was an important condition. I left with high expectations, but also a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I still did not have the official letter of approval
.

—What do you think the specific concern of the Church was regarding all the secrecy?

I think it’s mainly the attention, the light that is shone on a monastery when a person in the public eye enters. If that person leaves an order, there’s the laughableness, which reflects upon their capacity to advise someone coming in. It indicates poor judgment. Jokes are made
.

Over the weeks Dolores had been absent, Harriett had slipped back into hard-drinking mode. Several times, when she was smashed, she had made calls to Regina Laudis in attempts to play private eye. Mother Placid and Mother Columba had been alarmed and thought Dolores should try to get Harriett to visit the monastery.

I thought she had chalked all my absences up to publicity commitments and didn’t connect them to trips to Regina Laudis. I would occasionally call and mention that, since I was “in the neighborhood” I had gone with Valerie to the monastery for Mass, but I continued to delay confiding in Mom. As long as she was in the dark, I thought I could avoid that confrontation
.

Harriett, in fact, was too close to her daughter not to have had an awareness of what was going on in Dolores mind. She was holding on to the hope, however, that something in Dolores career—a part that was too good to miss out on—would interfere and push any thoughts of becoming a nun into the background. She didn’t know the decision had already been made.

When I returned to LA, with so much to do and so little time to do it, I found Mom in a pitiful state. In the past, I had been successful in getting her to the hospital when she needed help, but this time she wouldn’t listen to my entreaties. I remember thinking that, save a miracle, she was approaching the end of the trail. I told her that Mother Columba had invited her to the monastery and that it would make me very happy to be there with her. I said it could put some of the shattered pieces of her life together
.

“
Yes,” she said, “I want that
.”

“
But for crying out loud, kiddo,” I warned, “you can’t come to the monastery like this
.”

What may have made the difference to Mom was Mother Columba’s invitation, but that miracle happened because she dried herself out all alone and enthusiastically began making plans for us to take the trip together
.

Approval from the Archdiocese of Hartford came, leaving only two more hurdles. A complete physical examination was necessary, and Dolores would have to make the required final retreat. She went to a new doctor for the exam, again agonizing over a possible diagnosis that would keep her from entering, yet joking to Maria that she was “considering making excessive and repeated trips to Blum’s ice cream parlor to court the gout”. The final retreat, set for the first two weeks in May, would leave her only a few days to close up the apartment and dispose of all her personal property.

—How did you manage to keep so focused?

   
I was afraid someone would stop me
.

I didn’t want to have to defend my decision. But, in fact, I did leave myself open for some voice of authority to tell me not to do it. I respected authority and had accepted decisions made by others. As an actress, I did movies I was assigned without question because I was under contract and did publicity I wasn’t crazy about because it was part of my job. Once the decision was made for me, I made the best of it
.

With each step that brought me closer to the monastery gate, I wondered if it might be the obstacle I couldn’t overcome. When Monsignor Devlin said no, it won’t do, part of me was relieved. During the physical examination, I wondered if the doctor would tell me I wouldn’t have the strength to endure monastic life. Might Monsignor Lacy be the one to end my quest? Could Maria have told me I was making the wrong decision
?

I lived those days in a dichotomy of purpose: I am afraid someone will stop me—someone please stop me
.

Nineteen

God, the founder of my successes and joys, of my gaiety and love, forsake me not in this quest that is wrought of my need for
You. . .
and allow me the satisfaction of only one thing—the complete and unshakeable belief that is so necessary for all that is to follow
.

—Journal entry, June 7, 1963

The slow fade-out of Dolores Hart was hardly noticed at all. Everyone in the Industry seemed to have gotten used to not seeing me around, and no one was asking any questions
.

In May I excused myself one last time for “a breath of fresh air”—and headed to Connecticut to make my final retreat. It was an absolutely joyful two weeks because I had little fear that the hounds would be on my trail. My previous anxieties were like so much confetti, just blown away on the breath of a breeze. I looked upon that time, which could have been tense and nerve-racking, as a great blessing
.

The final retreat is the one during which the candidate meets the Community council, and the council votes on whether she should be accepted. In Dolores’ time, if Reverend Mother Benedict said yes, acceptance was a sure thing, and she had already said yes.

The candidate also meets with the zelatrix, the nun who will help her with personal needs through the days of postulancy, and the mistress of novices, who has canonical responsibility for religious development and growth. The mistress of novices was Mother Anselm Beaumont, one of the original French nuns who came from the Abbey of Jouarre.

It is also usual for the candidate to meet other novices in residence. In Dolores’ case, however, this did not happen. Mother Columba, ever vigilant, didn’t want to risk one of them mentioning to a guest in parlor that a movie star was entering Regina Laudis. Keeping her entrance hush-hush was also the reason Dolores did not have the required second physical examination.

Lastly, during the final retreat all preparations for entrance are made.

Had I expected to be clued in about monastic life, I would have had to think again. During the retreat, I was told almost nothing about what to expect once I was inside the enclosure
.

The
Rule of Saint Benedict
presents a map for the journey through monastic life, but it leaves to the individual to travel at his own pace, according to his own nature. As an actress who had been constantly required to adjust to different temperaments and egos during the crisis-fraught production of a movie, I was looking for a guide to help me find my way to that vital destination, the union of the soul with God. At what would be my last meeting with Reverend Mother before entrance, I asked if she would explain monastic life to me. “No”, she said with a smile. “It is so simple, Dolores, but you have to live it to understand it
.”

Mother Miriam Benedict, the zelatrix, did give me a list of items that would make up my trousseau and granted me permission to send any of those items in advance. They would be put in my cell. But I did not see what would be my cell. In fact, I still had no idea of what the inside of the cloister looked like
.

Included in my trousseau were two blankets—dark gray—twelve sheets and pillowcases and six towels, also gray. Clothing included sandals, heavy wool socks, undergarments, which were made of seersucker then—now they are made of more comfortable material—a dark-gray winter jacket, two black sweaters, black work shoes, blue denim material for a work habit, and a pocket watch, a gift from Jan and Ray. Wristwatches were a no-no. Luckily, Mother Miriam, who was only a few years older than I, was very aware of the concerns of young women. She gave me permission to bring my electric razor, which was not on the list of approved personal items, so that I could shave my legs
.

Dolores also needed to supply black material for her postulant tunic, one of two she would have, the other being a hand-me-down from within the Community. Usually the candidate had the dress made outside Regina Laudis, but again to preserve secrecy, her tunic would be made inside the monastery. Maria offered to buy the material as a gift.

Maria, in fact, bought several yards of very fine black wool gabardine at Bloomingdale’s. It was quite expensive. When the salesgirl asked what it was for, Maria told her it was to be a costume for a play. “As she wrapped the cloth,” Maria recalled, “she said she hoped it would be a long run, and I said, ‘So do I.’ A few days later, I was surprised to see an item in a gossip column that said Gary Cooper’s daughter was planning to enter a convent.”

At the insistence of Mother Columba, Dolores spent many hours during the retreat writing letters to family members, friends and professional colleagues explaining her decision to enter religious life. The letters, sealed and stamped then, would be posted only after she was behind the walls.

When I returned from the final retreat, I had less than a month to tend to all the remaining details of my disappearing act. The final few days were a jumble of shopping, travel arrangements and last-minute goodbyes. The goodbyes were hard and had to be kept in my heart because nobody could know. The letters I had written in Saint Gregory’s were difficult goodbyes too, but not as hard as the ones face-to-face
.

I said a silent goodbye to one I considered my spiritual father. On June 3, Pope John XXIII, “the good pope”, died. I had a special love for Pope John because he had given me a real push to enter religious life when he called me Chiara. I had planned to write him after I entered and tell him that his prediction had come true. Now I would not have that opportunity
.

Thank God Mom was behaving herself. She had calmed down and put her suspicions to rest, although she accused me of being withdrawn and referred to me as “Garbo”. I don’t know what I would have done had her energies not been directed toward her first visit to Regina Laudis. While she was planning her wardrobe, I was frantically putting together my itinerary, which was extremely tight as this diary entry shows
:

Martin graduates June 7. New York June 8
.

Mom to come on 10th
.

To RL June 11
if all goes as I hope God wills.

Ask Maria if she’ll come
.

Knowing that Maria could be a great help to Mom, I asked her to be there when I entered. I also asked her to save a couple of afternoons for us before Mom arrived. I thought we both needed and deserved some fun out of all of this
.

I packed everything I would need in two suitcases and then, in the happiest part of my evaporation, proceeded to give away everything else I owned. That was fun—picking out what should go to whom—this piece of jewelry to this friend, a sweater or dress to another. The mink, of course, was for Mom, along with my beloved Pogo. Fortunately, because she had cared for him whenever I was away on location, he was as comfortable with her as he was with me
.

I later regretted giving away two items. One was my desk lamp, which was much better than the one I found in my cell. The other was my typewriter; it would be years before I would have another
.