At heaven's pub
Beloved city priest Father Pete dies at 69
The Rev. Peter M. Colapietro — one of the city’s most beloved priests and The Post’s resident Catholic expert — died of emphysema Monday night at the age of 69.
Known for his larger-than-life personality and unabashed love of whiskey, Father Colapietro — or simply “Father Pete” — touched the lives of countless people over the years, both young and old, rich and poor.
The burly Bronx native spent more than two decades at Church of the Holy Cross parish on West 42nd Street, where he served as pastor and parish administrator before being reassigned to St. Monica’s on the Upper East Side.
Dubbed a “regular Joe” by those who knew him, Father Pete grew to become one of New York’s most personable priests — and a favorite among the late-night bar crowd. He typically wet his whistle at Elaine’s, a famous haunt for celebrities that closed in 2011.
Everyone from actor Mickey Rourke to former NYPD Commissioner Bill Bratton — as well as a slew of Post journalists — would pull up a stool to shoot the breeze with Father Pete.
“The first time at Elaine’s that I laid eyes on the burly man in a priest’s collar, I thought he was an actor who had come straight from the set in costume,” recalled longtime Post gossip columnist Richard Johnson.
“Why would a real priest be here at midnight drinking bourbon with impious sinners?” Johnson said. “But Father Pete Colapietro was a real priest. He loved people, all people, and they loved him back.”
Father Pete befriended dozens of Post reporters and editors over the years, and also penned columns.
“He was the Pope of 42nd Street,” joked former Postie Jeane MacIntosh.
In the past few months, MacIntosh had been visiting Father Pete in the hospital.
“Even when he was sick, he still kept his prickly sense of humor,” she said. “When he was in the hospital last spring, he joked that he was tired of people ‘ stopping in to pay their last respects.’ So he devised this system where to get in to see him, you had to give a password at the nurse’s station. I thought he was joking when he gave me the password, but when I got up there to the desk, the nurse was all business — she wanted that password. So I said, ‘meatballs’ — and sure enough she smiled and waved me on through.”
It was that lovable sense of humor and down-to-earth attitude that made Father Pete a favorite among city workers, particularly police officers.
“In some respects, he’s one of the iconic figures of the city of New York,” explained Bratton. “He was a real human being — what you saw was what you got.”
Bratton told The Post that Father Pete was considered one of the NYPD’s “unofficial chaplains,” who presided over the funeral Mass for Jack Maple, a deputy police commissioner who died of colon cancer in 2001.
“He was just a great guy,” Bratton recalled fondly. “He brought humanity to the religion. If there were more Father Petes, churches would be overflowing.”