ABSTRACT
One morning in the early 1970s, when I was employed as an investigative reporter at Westchester Rockland Newspapers, an editor handed me a copy of The New York Times and pointed to a report of a cross that seemed to appear miraculously on the bathroom window of a tenement apartment in the South Bronx. We were in the heart of the Christmas season, only a few days before kids all over New York would be tearing open their presents.
