Forty-eight years old seems too young to die. The hole a man’s death leaves in his family never seems to shrink as they forge ahead without him.
Forty-eight years old seems too young to die. The hole a man’s death leaves in his family never seems to shrink as they forge ahead without him.
For a 9-year-old, it’s a long trip from Parkville to Catonsville.
Father Robert F. Leavitt, S.S., made an impact on Bishop W. Francis Malooly’s ministry when, as a young priest just ordained, he taught the future bishop in a theology course at St. Mary’s Seminary, Roland Park, in 1968.
Every now and then, Bishop W. Francis Malooly surprised callers to his Catholic Center office by picking up the phone himself. Expecting to hear the voice of Katherine Williams, his longtime administrative assistant, the callers were bewildered at hearing the bishop greet them with a cheery “bishop’s office.”
From hero worship of a Baseball Hall of Fame centerfielder to holding his own in serious pick-up basketball games to name-dropping the Ravens’ No. 1 draft choice, sports are an enduring reference point and release for Bishop W. Francis Malooly.
Three weeks after Pope Benedict XVI named Bishop W. Francis Malooly the new bishop of the Diocese of Wilmington, Del., Baltimore’s native son sat down with The Catholic Review July 28 to discuss his role as a bishop, his goals for his new diocese and his thoughts about the state of today’s church.
When Fran and Paul Ibello met a seminarian named W. Francis “Fran” Malooly at St. Joseph, they didn’t know their budding friendship would touch generations of their family – with good-hearted jokes and laughs in the mix.
When Monsignor John O. Barres heard that Bishop W. Francis Malooly was going to be named the ordinary of the Diocese of Wilmington, Del., he looked for a cross he owned.
Bishop W. Francis Malooly may handle numerous duties from his seventh-floor office at 320 Cathedral St., but one of his greatest joys has been working with the youth of the archdiocese.
As the people of the western vicariate continue to say their farewells to Bishop W. Francis Malooly, the boards he served on are scrambling to figure out how to replace him.

Three young men sat handcuffed on a corner at the intersection of Druid Hill Avenue and McMechen Street Aug. 18. The reflection of blue and red lights of city police vehicles flashed across their faces and the dilapidated buildings of the crime-plagued neighborhood in West Baltimore.

For 31 years, John Rapisarda has referred to Deacon Gregory Rapisarda as “Dad.”
