It was not the first time that Egan, a native of Chicago and veteran Vatican official, had been thrust upon an unwilling O’Connor. In 1985, when John Paul II decided to make Egan a bishop, he had some difficulty placing him in a diocese. Cardinal Joseph Bernardin did not want Egan back in Chicago, where he had previously served as secretary to Bernardin’s predecessor, Cardinal John Cody. Cody’s last years were riddled with scandal, and Bernardin thought it best not to have an auxiliary bishop who, though innocent himself, might be a reminder of bygone problems. So the pope made Egan an auxiliary bishop in New York–despite the objections of O’Connor, who wanted to promote one of his own men. Egan, now 68, served a little more than three years as O’Connor’s vicar of education. During that time, the cardinal made his vicar the chief negotiator with the Roman Catholic teachers unions–a job that is normally relegated to an official of lesser rank. While Egan bargained in earnest at the table, the cardinal dined with the union leaders and–unbeknown to Egan–gave away the store. “We all knew that O’Connor was a conservative who loved labor unions,” says one priest who was privy to the negotiation process. “But this was shocking. He hung his own auxiliary bishop out to dry.”

If Egan still has bruises from his first turn in New York, he hasn’t let them show. In his first meeting with the media, Egan not only praised his predecessor but echoed him as well. He replied in flawless Spanish to two reporters and in elegant Italian to a third. He dismissed the notion of condom distribution in public schools as a “failed” experiment and signaled his support for parental “choice” in education.

Tall and at ease in the spotlight, Egan has a resume with “red hat” written all over it. Born in Oak Park, Ill., he went to Rome to study, eventually taking a degree in canon law summa cum laude. Along the way he mastered classical piano. In the early ’70s, Egan was appointed one of only six experts assigned to revise the church’s code of canon law–a job that brought him into intimate contact with John Paul II. Later he was promoted to judge on the church’s highest court, the Roman Rota, which hears divorce and other cases. A theologian in Rome who has followed his career describes Egan as “a Vatican dream man. He’s charming, friendly and has the look of a prelate. He can talk to you for hours without disclosing what he really thinks about anything.”

O’Connor was cut from rougher cloth. His slicing wit and pugnacious style, his willingness to unload at length whatever was on his mind, were ready-made for the barroom brawl that is New York City politics. But with his death from brain cancer, New Yorkers high and low acknowledged deep appreciation for O’Connor’s other side: his genuine concern for the poor, his many acts of personal kindness even toward his adversaries, his willingness, as he mellowed late in life, to own up to his own mistakes and limitations. Although his magnificent funeral last week attracted the elites of church and state, their presence owed less to his limited personal influence on American Catholicism than to the perceived importance of the New York Catholic vote. As cardinal of that city–and as a close friend of the pope’s–O’Connor had by dint of position, as well as personality, the shortest line to the Vatican in everything but the naming of a successor.

In that capacity, Egan faces a number of immediate problems that need solving. O’Connor couldn’t bear to close schools or parishes that the archdiocese can no longer afford. He also loathed asking for money, though he was always a good draw at any fund-raiser. “Just when we might have balanced the budget,” says one archdiocesan official, “O’Connor always found another way to spend.” By contrast, Egan revived his diocese’s sagging school system by closing some schools and raising funds to finance new ones. But like O’Connor, Egan is vigorously pro-life and conservative in theology and politics. He may lack O’Connor’s spontaneous wit, but he has that Vatican sheen. As he grows into the new job, his voice will become more public–in several languages. And one thing is sure: they will all sound like the pope.