How the death of Pope Francis brought Phil Pullella back to Reuters

It was like I had never left. Perhaps that is because I didn’t, really. It’s hard to get the Baron out of your bloodstream after more than 40 years.

I left the company in March 2024 and began working on a book recounting my years covering three popes. But I remained in the stream, going to press conferences and embassy events as an observer and sometimes for entertainment, as one goes to the theatre. I enjoyed watching other people work, not in a sadistic way, but to gain more insight for the book. I re-accredited myself as a freelancer and kept in touch with many of my sources.

Even though I was deep into the book and some really heavy-duty DIY projects in Rome and at our country house in Umbria, some instincts and habits were too embedded to lose.

So, on February 14, when I got a text that Pope Francis was going to the hospital, I called Rome Chief Correspondent Crispian Balmer to make  sure “we” had it. As the pope’s condition worsened it was agreed that I would return to work temporarily to help out when he died. When I got another text on April 21 saying that Francis had passed, I called Crispian again. We had a big package of stories ready to go, many of them written and updated by me over many years and added to since I left.

That was the start of 28 consecutive days of intense work, sometimes up to 16 or 17 hours a day. I was reincarnated as a sort of manual labourer under Crispian and my successor as Vatican correspondent, Josh McElwee, doing whatever had to be done. For most of the time, the three of us were based in what I call The Vat Cave, a glass cubicle of about four square metres in the Vatican press room. It can induce claustrophobia with only one person inside. When there are more, you either get along or commit multiple homicide. We got along.

With a lot of help from the Rome bureau , TV and pictures colleagues and Italy lead writer Keith Weir -- who flew in from London to help in the most critical period of the conclave itself -- we appeared to do very well on the timings, and with the breadth and quality of our file.

I had kept my sources warm even after leaving the company. To them and others whose trust I had built up over the years, it was as if I had never left.

Before the conclave began, all cardinals, electors and not, had a daily morning meeting to discuss the kind of person they felt should succeed Francis. Some of them who lived near the Vatican walked in and out, facing a scrum of reporters and cameras. The big news everyone was waiting for was when the conclave would start. But the meetings were supposed to be secret, so no one would tell the scrum.

The Vatican has several entrances. The media pack mostly hung out at the Petriano gate, nearest the auditorium where the cardinals were meeting. Jostling press packs rarely yield scoops. On April 28, instead of joining the pack in front of the Petriano gate, I went to St. Anne’s gate, which was far from the meeting venue. I figured at least some cardinals would walk out that way to avoid reporters. I waited across the street, blending in with the tourists. One cardinal I have known for many years was walking out. I crossed the street and said “Hello”. After a bit of small talk, I asked “So have you guys decided when to start the conclave?”.  He answered without a pause: “May 7”.  I was surprised but did not show it. While we continued walking, I brought it up another way to make sure I had heard it right. I needed to hear him say “May 7” again. He did and we said our goodbyes. I called it in to Crispian. We went with it about 40 minutes before the Vatican made the official announcement. The Italian media was particularly perplexed because many outlets had gone out on a limb and said the conclave would start on May 5.

Josh, who was in the Vat Cave alone, was assailed by colleagues wanting to know what was up. “We got it from a source,” was all he said.

 A few days later, the same cardinal helped give us a bit of a steer when he told me that the generally held theory that it would be a toss-up between Italian Cardinal Pietro Parolin and Filipino Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle, was “far-fetched”. Because of this tip and other hints we heard, we beefed up different profiles that had been prepared.

After white smoke emerges from the Sistine chimney signalling a pope has been elected, an hour passes before a cardinal emerges and reveals the new pontiff’s birth name and the pontifical name he has chosen. But it is in Latin. The chances of misunderstanding are high. It is the one you do not want to get wrong. The process of identifying the colour of the smoke and getting the name of the new pope out fast has caused severe stress in covering other recent conclaves.

The announcement goes like this:

“Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum. Habemus papam; Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum [FIRST NAME] Sanctæ Romanæ Ecclesiæ Cardinalem [LAST NAME], qui sibi nomen imposuit [PAPAL NAME]

Josh prepared a list of 133 cardinals’ names in the Latin accusative case and in alphabetical order, which proved a masterstroke.

With the three of us squeezed into the Vat Cave, we closed the sliding door and listened nervously to the audio feed.

Robertum (Robert)

But there was more than one Robertum on our list

The cardinal then read out a middle name:

Franciscum (Francis)

There was only one Robert Francis, and it was Prevost.

We waited until the cardinal read the last name and pushed the button.

We had done our homework well. Prevost was on our list of the top six possibilities.

We then all agreed that the new pope’s chosen name, Leone, was Leo in English.  We pushed the button on that one and I flew out of the Vat Cave and into St. Peter’s Square to do a vox pop, while Josh and Crispian churned out the trunk. The first U.S. pope had been elected.

I am a year older than Pope Leo XIV so I may not be around for the next conclave. But one never knows. If needed then, or before, the Baron knows where to find me.

(Photo shows l-r Josh, Phil and Crispian in the "Vat Cave") 

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