Pierre Yves Keralum made an indelible mark up and down the Rio Grande — as a missionary priest, itinerant architect and member of the legendary cassock-and-cowboy-hat “Cavalry of Christ.”

From his arrival in 1852 to his mysterious death in 1872, he helped civilize the rough South Texas ranchlands and left behind cathedrals, churches and tiny ranch chapels that now bear national historic markers.

Some 120 years after his chalice, crucifix, saddle and bones were discovered in the brush of what is now northern Hidalgo County, “El Santo Padre Pedrito” is still inspiring memorials and historic renovation projects in the lower Rio Grande Valley.

And a grass-roots effort to have him declared a saint has even attracted the attention of Rome, albeit preliminary. A delegation from the Vatican visited South Texas in fall 2001 to research the missionary’s life.

“South Texas needs a good saint,” said the Rev. Sal DeGeorge, San Antonio area administrator for the Catholic order known as the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, which is promoting Father Keralum’s cause.

“We’re serious about it,” he added.

So is Manuel Cano, a 73-year-old Mercedes resident whose great-great-grandfather Antonio Cano often hosted Father Keralum at his ranch. “Of all the missionaries in South Texas, this man really stands out,” Cano said.

It’s difficult to say what the odds are that Father Keralum will ascend to sainthood.

But since taking office, Pope John Paul II has greatly accelerated the sainthood process, canonizing nearly 500 saints during his nearly quarter-century in office, compared with 98 for all other popes in the 20th century.

And “martyrs for the faith” have been of particular papal interest.

Father Keralum all but died in the saddle on his missionary rounds and is considered a martyr by many. He worked through illness and infirmity, much like the pope himself.

The Rev. Nicola Ferrara, sent by the Vatican’s Office of the Postulation in 2003, urged local parishes to pray for a miracle in Father Keralum’s name — a prerequisite for sainthood.

In a recent e-mail, Father Ferrara said it is up to Father Keralum’s Oblate brothers to further his cause, by demonstrating proof of a popular devotion to him.

Lasting impact

Meanwhile, signs of Father Keralum’s influence persist in the Rio Grande Valley:

Catholics gathered at a Mercedes cemetery last May and again in Brownsville last November to pray for a miracle from Father Keralum. Mercedes is home to a 1920 memorial to the priest, a life-size Crucifixion scene that marks where his remains were interred before being moved to San Antonio in 1952.

A $5 million restoration is under way at Brownsville’s Gothic-revival Immaculate Conception Cathedral, designed by Father Keralum and on the 2001 list of the country’s most endangered historic places. Cameron County officials also are considering restoration for the crumbling Our Lady of Visitation Church in Santa Maria, another Keralum design.

Across the valley, there are streets, buildings, a town square and a Knights of Columbus chapter named for the Frenchman, and a bicycle marathon planned for this spring will follow the Oblate trail from Roma to Brownsville.

Roma, where the tower of Our Lady of Refuge Church is all that remains of Father Keralum’s original design in 1854, has hosted an annual Keralum Festival. Last year the town celebrated the 150th anniversary of the Oblates with a horseback re-enactment of the “Cavalry of Christ” arrival in South Texas.

Building a legacy

Texas had recently joined the United States when the Oblate priests first arrived in Texas from Lyon, France. The Rio Grande marked the border with Mexico.

Trained as an architect in France, Father Keralum was put to work immediately constructing a bricks-and-mortar presence for the young church. Besides Roma and Brownsville, he sometimes is credited for his work on Laredo’s San Agustin Cathedral. Ranch chapels, such as St. Joseph’s on Toluca Ranch, also were according to his design.

A stonecutter, mason and carpenter as well as designer, Father Keralum reportedly laid brick and made everything from church pews to coffins.

Father Keralum took on the job of missionary as well, riding on horseback between the tiny ranch settlements that dotted 20,000 square miles of South Texas brushland. Many of these oases of civilization were the seeds of future towns.

The borderlands were a rough and dangerous place then, but the people were eager to nurture their spiritual lives despite the hardships of disease, harsh weather and banditry. Antonio Cano built a ranch chapel, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Father Keralum conducted weddings, baptisms and religious training classes for the youngsters there.

“We were in an area on both sides of the Rio Grande that was a no-man’s land,” said Manuel Cano, a former electric company employee who has studied the Cano family history and its connection to Father Keralum. “By the late 1800s, as soon as the sun went down, we locked ourselves in our jacales, nailed everything down, and had the rifle loaded. We didn’t leave the place until daylight.”

Unassuming demeanor

Through this no-man’s land rode Father Keralum.

Stories about him — chronicled in a 12-page report by Vatican investigators — stress his humble and self-effacing nature: Arriving late one night at the Brownsville rectory, he slept in the graveyard rather than wake the household. Witnessed carrying boards and a hammer into a hut on the outskirts of town, he was found building a coffin for the poor woman who had died there. Fellow priests said he would wear their cast-off cassocks, rather than spend money on new vestments.

Father Keralum’s mysterious death only cemented the devotion of those who knew him. In his 50s, nearly blind and in ill health, he continued traveling among the 70 or so ranches on his circuit. In his 1899 memoirs, a brother priest reported that Father Keralum became lost several times on his rounds, once surviving on mesquite beans and prickly pear for three days until he staggered out of the brush covered with thorn scratches.

On Nov. 12, 1872, Father Keralum left the Cano ranch, never to be seen again. His horse — minus its saddle — turned up days later, historian Robert Wright said.

In 1882, 10 years later, cowboys searching for cattle found Father Keralum’s bones and belongings in heavy brush. In a version of the story that still gives Cano chills, the priest’s saddle was found neatly hung on a mesquite branch, along with an altar bell. His chalice and other vessels were set beneath the tree.

It is thought that illness, exposure or wild animals killed him.

To this day, a family descended from one of those cowboys keeps a pair of Father Keralum’s cufflinks as a family heirloom, Cano said.

“He was not forgotten, no, no,” said the Rev. Pasquale Lanese, pastor of Immaculate Conception Cathedral in Brownsville. “This affection for him was transmitted by generations to the present time … kept on through the minds and hearts of so many people. We firmly believe that he is already a saint now.”

This story appeared in The Daily Herald on page B1.