I-8 Jewish Travel: A ceremony at the Immaculata

-Sixth in a series-

Exit 2: Morena Boulevard, Immaculata Church

By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO — That such a man should be knighted by the Pope was not surprising.  The retired colonel had donated substantial sums of money not only to the Catholic-run University of San Diego, but also to other universities founded under religious auspices, including Cal Western on Point Loma, which since has become Point Loma Nazarene University.

At USD, a lecture hall is named for him; on the Point Loma Nazarene campus, there is a theatre named in his honor.  He also served on the boards of Georgetown University, Brandeis University, Atlanta University, Pepperdine University and the Clairemont School of Theology.

A benefactor who had a love for youngsters of college age as well as for those on the other end of the age spectrum, this man also had donated sufficient money to the church for the construction of a school at the Pala Mission, and to the City of San Diego for a playground along the Sixth Avenue side of Balboa Park.

And, having been appointed in 1953 by President Dwight D. Eisenhower as a U.S. delegate to the United Nations General Assembly, he also provided the funds for a community center in San Ysidro, which is Mexico’s next door neighbor.

At USD, this man wearing top hat, tuxedo and white gloves was honored with a procession that included San Diego Mayor Pete Wilson, Rabbi Joel Goor of Congregation Beth Israel, many priests and other faculty, as well as Knights and Ladies of the Holy Sepulcher and fellow Knights of St. Gregory wearing their ceremonial green uniforms and plumed hats.  When the procession reached the Immaculata, this man was welcomed and respectfully ushered through the solid brass front door of that church.

When USD President Author Hughes and Msgr. I. Brent Eagan, the diocesan chancellor,  watched this man kneel on August 24, 1974 at a prayer desk known as prie-dieu at the large Immaculata Church on the University of San Diego campus to be dubbed by Bishop Leo Maher as a Knight of St. Gregory, the only thing that may have been surprising was that this man was not a Catholic.

Sir Knight, Colonel Irving Salomon was a Jew.

So far as Bishop Maher or anyone else knew, Salomon was the first Jewish layperson ever to be so honored. According to the Catholic newspaper Southern Cross, Cardinal Sergio Pignedoli had been in San Diego to attend a Diocesan Pastoral Congress when he met and was impressed by Salomon open-heartedness.  The cardinal asked the bishop if there were not some way to recognize Salomon, and the two clergymen decided to quietly nominate Salomon for the honor.  Salomon was unaware of what was coming until he attended a birthday party for Bishop Maher, at which time the bishop said he planned to have a birthday ceremony for Salomon too. Then he explained that Pope Paul VI personally had approved Salomon’s investiture in a knighthood that had been established in 1831, perhaps recognizing in Salomon a man who mirrored his own goodwill outreach to many parts of the world.   Salomon was active in the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), as well as the local World Affairs Council.

When Salomon received the news from Maher, he responded: “I recognize how important this honor is, but to be recognized in this way is stupefying.”  At the ceremony itself, Salamon said similarly: “Many words could be said on this occasion.  but I am so grateful for this honor and privilege, and thank everyone, especially the Holy Father. I am so very humbled that I hope you forgive me if I don’t say any more.”

Saint Gregory, the man for whom the knighthood order had been named,  had preferred the monastic life and was reluctant to become Pope in the 6th century.  Once in the high office, however, he purged the Catholic Church of many pagan Roman elements that had crept into its worship and instituted new styles of prayer.  Gregorian chants are associated with his reign, and today he is honored as a patron saint of music and art.  One supposes he would have been pleased that Salomon’s largesse also extended to the arts, in particular the San Diego Ballet and the Old Globe Theatre.

The Immaculata is a large church that dominates the northern hillside as one enters Mission Valley from the west on Interstate 8.  It has a colorful dome bearing an 8,500 pound statue of Our Lady of Immaculate Conception, as well as a bell tower with a 300-pound cross.  From the ground to the top of the cross is a distance of 169 feet.

Other Jews might have felt uncomfortable in this Roman Catholic edifice — when does one stand? when does one sit? — but the urbane Salomon glided through the ceremony in which he heard himself praised by Maher for his “generous service to humanity (and) his long years of continual and devoted good works for the betterment of mankind.”

In the community of Valley Center, near Escondido, Salomon for many years had made his home on the 2,300-acre Rancho Lilac, where he raised livestock and quarter horses, and entertained the elite of the world of politics and entertainment.  He and his wife Cecile–and their daughter Abbe, who would grow up to become an attorney and a San Diego City Councilwoman–hosted the likes of former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, who wrote a column praising the rancho, UN Undersecretary and Nobel Peace Prize Winner Ralph Bunche, and film stars Myrna Loy, Ramon Navarro, and Jack Haley. Several years after he left office, President Eisenhower, who had appointed Salomon as a delegate to the U.N. General Assembly, visited the ranch on July 14, 1964.

Here is an excerpt from a “My Day” column by Eleanor Roosevelt that was published in 1960 by the Evening Tribune of San Diego.

Solomon is raising pedigreed Herefords for breeding purposes, and they were grazing in the hills, for California has had more rain than usual recently, and the cattle looked very attractive as we drove around a part of the ranch.  He used to raise hogs, but he has decided that they lose too much money.  He has olive trees, but he can buy olives more cheaply than he can pick them.

He takes keen pleasure in the fact that the milk and cream and butter and cottage cheese come from the ranch. All of these products are certainly very good, but I surmise also that they cost more than if he bought them outside.

The ranch house itself is charming and the trees around it are the most beautiful old live oaks, with acacia and pepper trees here and there.  I can well understand why Mr. and Mrs. Salomon love their ranch, and I can also understand that Mrs. Salomon is happy that she can have a delightful penthouse in San Diego too.

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The penthouse, incidentally, was on Sixth Avenue, right across from that playground in Balboa Park.

You might think that this man who moved so easily through the top tiers of religious, political and entertainment accomplishment was, so to speak, born to the ranch. But you would be wrong.  He actually grew up quite poor, and considered himself lucky as a youth in Chicago to be hired as an office boy at Royal Metal Manufacturing Company that made the steel chairs and desks that became standard equipment at schools, military bases, and government offices.

Eventually, through hard work and enterprise, he became the president of that company.  A patriot, who had served as Marine private in World War I, his knowledge of business and manufacture made him attractive to the Pentagon during World War II. He was assigned the rank of lieutenant colonel, and he worked in Washington D.C.

After the war, he traveled frequently, and had several different U.S. passports, as well as one from the United Nations.  He had become involved with the U.N. even before his appointment to the U.S. delegation by President Eisenhower, and after his appointment expired, he continued to take on U.N. responsibilities.  His daughter, Abbe (Salomon) (Wolfsheimer) Stutz  and her husband David, a former deputy district attorney in San Diego, suspected that some of his travel, be it on a U.S. or U.N. passport, may have as cover for secret missions for the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency.

If so, that was not the only secret that he kept.  Many years after Salomon died in 1979 at age 82, his daughter learned that her father, the philanthropist, also was a philanderer.  She discovered, to her shock, that she had a DNA-tested half-brother, Derek Taylor, who had been born to Ethel Mortenson Taylor, an American mistress Abbe’s  father had once ensconced for seven months in France and Switzerland.  Neither of his families knew about the other, but Salomon’s two children–in the brief time before Abbe died of cancer in 2014–connected and became friends.

In 2009, Abbe Wolfsheimer Stutz and her former husband Louis Wolfsheimer donated some of Salomon’s papers to the Valley Center History Museum, which six years earlier they had funded with a $250,000 donation. Abbe’s husband, David Stutz, still has boxes of leftover materials at the ocean view La Jolla home he and Abbe had shared.   Among the prized possessions: the sword used in Salomon’s knighthood ceremony.

Salomon, who had been an active member and donor for the American Jewish Committee and a major contributor to Temple Emanu-El, is buried alongside his wife Cecile, who outlived him by 20 years, in the Home of Peace Cemetery, at rest with other Jews of San Diego.

Historic photos courtesy of Dave Stutz.

Next: The rabbi and the monsignor

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Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World.  Your comment may be sent to him at donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com, or posted on this website provided that the rules below are observed.

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