In the south ballroom of Washington's Willard Hotel one night last week, a stocky, wavy-haired Dominican priest rose from his seat at the head table. As 800 guests burst out cheering, he made his way to the speaker's stand to receive the highest honor Catholic University alumni can pay. At 69, the Very Rev. Ignatius Smith, dean of C.U.'s School of Philosophy, became the ninth recipient of the Cardinal Gibbons medal, "for distinguished and meritorious service to the United States of America, the Catholic Church or the Catholic University of America." Though better-known men have won the medal before him, e.g., J. Edgar Hoover, General J. Lawton Collins, the Philippines' Carlos Romulo, the university has never bestowed it with quite the same feeling as in the case of Father Smith. But Father Smith's big night did not end there. In a surprise appearance, the Apostolic Delegate presented him in the name of the Pope the cross "Pro Ecclesia et Pontifice."
For 50 years "Iggy" Smith has been a dominant figure at C.U. He has made philosophy so popular that 2,000 out of 3,500 students each year take at least one course in it. When not talking Aristotle or Aquinas, Iggy is apt to be roaring at a pep rally, cheering on a team or knocking out a bit of ragtime on the piano. "He has been seen," says Athletic Director "Eddie" LaFond, "demonstrating left hooks, racing star sprinters across the campus, doing road work ten miles away, throwing blocks on 225-lb. tackles, pitching for the baseball team and carrying the ball on an off-tackle play."
Flair for Backsliders. Born Henry Michael Smith, the eldest of the six children of an Irish grocer in Newark, N.J., Iggy went through Newark High School while working as a brewery bookkeeper and machine-shop man. Just when the desire to become a priest hit him he does not know, but "suddenly," says he, "it was there." He chose the Dominican Order and the name Ignatius, and after his novitiate year at St. Rose Priory in Springfield, Ky. he was sent by the order to C.U.
In 1915 he got his Ph.D., and a year later was called to Manhattan. There he performed a bewildering array of duties as pastor and prior of St. Catherine of Siena Church, national director of the Holy Name Society, editor of the Holy Name Journal, national director of the Third Order of St. Dominic, founder-editor of the Torch. He not only could get along on five hours of sleep, but he also developed a flair for handling his delinquent parishioners. On Saturday nights he would make the rounds of the neighborhood bars, eye a backslider and say: "Shouldn't you go to confession tonight so that you can go to Communion tomorrow?" Gradually, the number of Holy Name Society members showing up regularly for Communion rose from 22 to 1,000.