Fifty years ago, Fordham alumni brought Michelangelo’s first masterpiece to Flushing Meadows and helped make the 1964–1965 New York World’s Fair one of the most memorable spectacles of commerce, culture, and innovation in the city’s history.

This week and next, as New York celebrates the fair’s anniversary, Fordham Notes will publish excerpts from “Return to Tomorrow,” our feature on the fair for the Spring 2014 issue of FORDHAM magazine. Earlier this week we publishedpart I–the account of  Fordham alumnus John Murray gingerly packing the Pietà  for its journey to Flushing. The story continues below. 

The Pietà was ready for the first leg of its journey: an 18-mile-an-hour rainy ride from Vatican City to Naples in an open yellow truck.  Once it reached the port in Naples, the entire package, encapsulated in an outer steel case, was lifted by crane onto the deck of the SS Cristoforo Colombo, the pride of the Italian fleet. Cables fitted with hydrostatic releases lashed the bright orange-topped case to the ship’s deck. If the boat sank below 15 feet, the case—also equipped with a flashing light and a radio transmitter—would detach and float freely. John Murray, FCRH ’57, was on board to accompany the precious cargo back to the States.

“I told him if anything happens to that ship, you jump on top of that box,” said Murray’s wife, Eileen, “because it would be visible to any rescuer.”

The Pietà finally arrived in Flushing Bay, along with another Vatican treasure—The Good Shepherd—a fourth-century statue of Christ. A McNally Brothers truck drove them both to the fairgrounds, and they were installed in the Vatican Pavilion on April 16—six days before the fair opened.

For fair organizer Thomas J. Deegan, FCRH ’34, the Vatican’s participation was an early coup. In 1962, Deegan and the fair’s president, New York’s “Master Builder” Robert Moses, traveled with Cardinal Spellman to Rome for a special ceremony confirming the Vatican’s role. But the Pietà was more than they ever could have hoped for. At once spectacular and pious, the beloved sculpture lent a sense of culture to the fair, a rebuttal, the organizers felt, to critics who feared the event would descend into crass commercialism and kitsch.

A well-connected public relations executive, Deegan had dropped out of Fordham during the Depression to find work. He wrote for The New York Times before forming his own publicity company in 1957. By 1960, he would advise Lyndon Johnson on his run for president. When Deegan and his associates approached New York City Mayor Robert Wagner with the idea of a fair—one that would recapture the magic of the 1939 fair held in the same spot in Flushing—the mayor tapped him to helm the process.

Deegan chaired the fair’s executive committee, which faced its share of challenges. The Bureau of International Exhibitions (BIE), which had sanctioned all World’s Fairs since 1928, would not bestow its blessing on New York. Moses insisted the fair run for two six-month sessions to recoup expenses—longer than the BIE allowed. Without the bureau’s backing, many nations refused to participate, which left corporate pavilions to play a larger role—leading some to accuse the fair of being too commercial. And mounting costs and below-projected attendance meant that fair organizers couldn’t pay back their debts.

But for visitors who crossed the wooden ramp from the No. 7 subway stop into the Flushing Meadows fairgrounds, the spectacular sight eclipsed any behind-the-scenes troubles.

Flags of dozens of nations waved high in the air, lining a dramatic path to the fair’s stainless-steel Unisphere, a 12-story symbol of the event’s Peace Through Understanding theme and a still-standing Queens landmark. No fewer than 140 pavilions showcased bold innovations and cultural treasures: Giant color television screens flashed footage of the crowds. Ford debuted its Mustang. Model homes displayed sleek and convenient appliances. The BIE boycott allowed less well-known nations to receive more attention: There were dancers from Thailand, waffles from Belgium, and Dead Sea scrolls from Jordan. And fairgoers got around via the Swiss Sky Ride, whose red, blue, and yellow cars traveled on cables high above the revelry.

Learn more about the fair’s attractions—including first-hand alumni memories—in part III of “Return to Tomorrow” on Fordham Notes next week.

This week and next, as New York celebrates the fair’s anniversary, Fordham Notes will publish excerpts from “Return to Tomorrow,” a feature published in the Spring 2014 issue of FORDHAM magazine. 

For centuries Michelangelo’s Pietà has inspired awe in the hearts of the faithful. Carved from a single block of Carrara marble, it depicts the Virgin Mary cradling the crucified Jesus in her lap, her ever-youthful face and sorrowful eyes looking down at his slain body. But in March 1964, as John Murray, FCRH ’57, and two fellow shipping executives stared at the priceless sculpture in St. Peter’s Basilica, their sense of wonder gave way to fear.

Two years earlier, Pope John XXIII promised New York’s Francis Cardinal Spellman, FCRH ’11, that he would send the Pietà—perhaps the world’s most famous religious sculpture—to the 1964–1965 New York World’s Fair in Flushing, Queens. The pontiff had just opened the Second Vatican Council, and the decision to display the Renaissance masterpiece to throngs of fairgoers reflected the church’s new commitment to accessibility in a modern, increasingly secular world.

Now this trio of expert transporters was charged not only with removing the Pietàfrom the Vatican for the first time since 1499, but also with shipping it to New York and back in one very well-preserved piece.

Murray, who died last September at the age of 83, had joined his Fordham classmate’s family trucking firm, McNally Brothers, just after college. By 1964 he was vice president.

“When the idea [of bringing the Pietà to the fair]came to life, my father took advantage of the opportunity,” said John Murray Jr., GSB ’85. “He got involved with the committee and offered to do the moving for free.”

After Pope John died in 1963, his successor, Pope Paul VI, reluctantly honored the papal promise to send the sculpture to New York. Italians and art lovers fretted, however, about the safety risks as well as the perceived lack of reverence it would be shown by the American masses. But in March 1964, Cardinal Spellman told the Associated Press that critics may “have the money to go to St. Peter’s to see it for themselves. But I want 70 million people to see it for free.”

Populism won out, and the Pietà would soon set sail for the U.S. But before Murray and his colleagues could ship the 3-ton marble treasure, they had to pack it and protect it.

Italians had traditionally used wood shavings to cushion fragile items. But the Americans suggested a new material—expanded polystyrene, later trademarked as Dylite. According to one newspaper’s account, the Roman contractor quit in protest.

Save for Mary’s hand, which had been broken and repaired, X-rays revealed that the sculpture’s marble was perfect, just as Michelangelo had once proclaimed. Still, the packers assumed that minute fissures were present and could be worsened by the slightest impact. They gingerly removed the statue from its pedestal, placed it on cushioned scaffolding, and built a wooden case around it. Then they poured in the Dylite, thousands of tiny snow-like white foam beads, which had the added effect of making the crate and its contents buoyant despite a combined weight of 5 tons.

The Pietà was ready for the first leg of its journey.

Murray enrolled at Fordham after his military service as a first sergeant with the U.S. Army in peacetime Germany. He graduated with his younger brother, Patrick Murray, FCRH ’57, and went to work for a classmate’s family’s trucking firm, McNally Brothers, where he eventually became president. The Bronx native later traveled the world as an executive at shipping firm D.F. Young.

When Pope John XXIII authorized the transport of the Pietà to Queens to be displayed in the Vatican Pavilion at the World’s Fair, Murray traveled to Rome with a team of three men—known as the Vatican Pavilion Transport Committee—who were entrusted with the difficult task of packing and shipping the precious three-ton statue safely. In gratitude for its successful voyage and safe return, the Vatican granted Murray and his wife, Eileen, an audience with Pope Paul VI, who had succeeded Pope John. According to Murray’s son John Jr., GSB ’85, the pontiff told the elder Murray that he was the first person to ever move the Pietà from Rome, and he’d be the last. Pope Paul knighted Murray into the Order of the Holy Sepulchre.

In a family of six children, Murray had three siblings who earned Fordham degrees: the late Monsignor James J. Murray, FCRH ’48, LAW ’51, and GSS ’58 (known as “Uncle Bud” to his many nieces and nephews), who served as executive director of Catholic Charities in New York; the late Patrick W. Murray, FCRH ’57, who was special agent in charge of the FBI’s New York field office; and Mary May Houlihan, GSS ’49 and ’86, former social worker for Catholic Charities and mother of James Houlihan, GSB ’74, chair of the Fordham University President’s Council.

Murray is survived by Eileen, his wife of 57 years; their five children, Joseph, John Jr., Kathleen, Kevin, and Margaret; and 13 grandchildren. His siblings, Mary May and Sister Mary Rose Murray, S.U., also survive him. He is predeceased by his brothers James and Patrick; his sister Rosaleen Murray Sage; and his parents, Rose and Joseph Murray.

For more about Fordham’s connections to the 1964 New York World’s Fair, look for a feature story in the spring issue of FORDHAM magazine.