It is one of tradition, conviction and reverence and the Rev. Daniel Johnson makes sure his parishioners know it.

Those parishioners say Johnson's twin legacies at St. Mary's by the Sea have been bringing new and lapsed Catholics into the church, and giving them something to keep them coming back: a traditional Catholic Mass in Latin.

On Sunday, nearly 50 years to the day that he was ordained and a quarter century after his assignment to St. Mary's, Johnson, 75, celebrated his last public Mass before retirement officially begins today. At the special 21/2-hour Mass, a senior altar server helped him to the lectern, then stood behind him for 45 minutes as he delivered his final homily.

Many parishioners wept as Johnson discussed his belief in the value of the old Mass, his life as a priest, and his hopes for the congregation.

All other Masses at the church are the modern version. The only other traditional Catholic Mass in the county is celebrated at Mission San Juan Capistrano, a diocese spokesman said.

In his years at St. Mary's, Johnson "walked the parish" nearly five times, knocking on doors in the parish neighborhood to invite residents to Mass or religious education classes at his church.

"It was very effective," said parishioner David Lanfranchi.

So effective that scores of parishioners talk in astonished terms about the hundreds of people Johnson brought to the church in this way, and in many cases, brought back to the church.

"For 25 years, all I was doing was blaming God and the Catholic Church for my life, for why I had lost people important to me, but all I was doing was justifying my own lifestyle. Father Johnson showed me I was wrong, but he didn't ram it down my throat," said James Gould, 55, a lector at St. Mary's.

"The man represents grace, dignity and truth."

When Johnson arrived in 1978, the small church just blocks from the Pacific was scheduled for closure because it had just 400 parishioners. Today, more than 1,500 families belong to the parish. No babies cry during Johnson's Mass. No children goof off. Many women wear lace head coverings, and no adults glance at their watches or skip out after Communion.

That Johnson came to St. Mary's in the first place was something of a disappointment, at least initially. After disagreements with his previous church over his traditionalist approach, he was at a career crossroads with three options: stay, go to another church where he might have the same differences, or be reassigned to a smaller church.

"The best thing that ever happened to me was coming here," he said. "When I made that choice I didn't really realize that my life was changing for the better."

Still, his indignation over the changes brought by the Vatican II Council, a reformation group, is fresh.

"It (traditional Mass) was deliberately suppressed," he said in his homily. "The only one who could say it was a priest in retirement and he better not have a congregation. The great thing about the traditional Mass is there's only one way to say it. There are rubrics. That's it.

"You don't tamper with what God reveals."

That conservative streak extends to his views on other church issues (his view on altar girls, for example: "They're not going to become priests. What's the point of that?")

It is that black-and-white view of the world though, and the mystical sense participants say the traditional Mass inspires, that appeals to St. Mary's parishioners, who say permission for the Mass was given to their church, not specifically to Johnson.

The Rev. Joe Fenton, a diocese spokesman, disagreed: "Father Johnson had a personal permission to celebrate the Tridentine Mass at St. Mary's. They're not that easy to get."

In April, the church wrote to Orange County Bishop Tod Brown asking him to renew the permission. It is also circulating a petition in support of the Mass, and one vocal group has promised to picket the bishop's residence until he allows the traditional Mass to be celebrated at St. Mary's.

Johnson, an avid golfer, with 35 holes-in-one, has been beset by health problems recently. After his birthday in March, a bad fall landed him in the hospital. The right side of his face is drawn down severely by the Bell's palsy that afflicts him and he has lost the hearing in his right ear from cancer. Johnson now walks in small careful steps, using a putter for a cane.

"Whatever the Lord wants," he said of the outlook for his health. "I may not always seem it, but I'm very grateful."

Perhaps what he will miss most about his pastor's duties is the adult classes he taught, answering questions about the Catholic faith.

What he will not miss, is what parishioners will remember about him most: the traditional Tridentine Mass. It is, he says, the highlight of his week. He intends to say Mass every day privately when he moves in with his brother Jerry in Torrance today.

"You never stop being a priest. At least this priest feels that way."