MATT RIP

We're a man down
Fr. Stephen Farragher
A small thing, you might say, in such a large parish. But when the man is part of the fabric of the parish, not just in a church sense, but in the wider social and community meaning, then the phrase takes on the significance of a red card at an all-Ireland final. And that is no small thing.

Matt O'Dwyer had his roots in not just the present day community of the wider Ballyhaunis, but also in its past. His grandfather served there (Barrack St.), his father taught its people (Coolnafarna), as did his mother in the local national school, and Matt was born there (Abbeyquarter) and spent his life teaching there.

It would probably be true to say that there is not a person in Ballyhaunis who has not been touched in some way by Matt's contribution to the life of the area.

I went down to his funeral on Tuesday (28/6/2016) and from the time I arrived till I left the following day, I was overwhelmed by the sense of community which underlay the intensity of the widespread grief at Matt's sudden death.

Matt was reposing at his home on Doctor's Road, Ballindrehid, on Tuesday afternoon prior to the removal to the church. There was a constant queue of people coming through the front door and it took four and a half hours, without any break, to file past the coffin and for people to pay their respects.

The removal itself was a slow walk from the house to St. Patrick's church on Upper Main Street. This, in a slightly eerie silence where the only sound was the tread of feet on the roadway as we passed the small groups of neighbours at their gateways.

The gathering in the church was both public and intimate and again there were expressions of grief and sympathy as people commiserated with Geraldine and the family at the top of the church. Another long endless file.

St. Patrick's on the morning of Matt's funeral
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The next morning more people from out of town arrived for the funeral mass, and for those who could not be physically present there was still a chance to be there via the live webcast.

St. Patrick's is an impressive church. It was built and dedicated at the beginning of the twentieth century and has seen many Dwyer funerals since then. The spire was only completed as late as 1999 as a Millennium Project and I'm told the church is one of only two dedicated churches in the country. For dedication, as opposed to consecration, a church has to be debt free and empty for the day of dedication, ie all the pews and other furniture taken out. This probably explains why so few are in a position to opt for this as they will be in debt when newly built and it becomes a big operation at a later stage.

While I was at the church I took the opportunity to pay my respects to Canon McGarry who is buried in the grounds.

Mass was concelebrated by seven priests, which, while a great tribute to Matt, may seem a bit of an extravagance in the light of the Eucharistic famine stalking the land, but that is a matter for another day. There were four altar servers. Happily I can't say altar boys any more because one of them was a girl. Not quite 51% but certainly reflecting well on the Parish Priest (quoted above) when I gather there are parishes which won't tolerate any of this post-conciliar nonsense.

The service was inspirational with the PP's talk honed to perfection. He knew the family well and had been at the hospital over the weekend. The choir and instrumentalists were very good and I think I detected a version of Plaisir d'Amour slipped in along with Ag Críost an Síol, but I couldn't determine if that was purely as a piece of secular music, however appropriate, or if it had been expropriated by the church into its holy hymnal.

Matt's funeral in Main Street, Ballyhaunis.

And then the walk through the town to the graveyard. Traders closed their doors and stood outside and the Garda made sure the procession passed smoothly through the square and then up the hill into Abbeyquarter.

Matt's parents' grave - Jimmy & Maura

The graveyard, where his parents and grandparents are buried, is just across the road from where Matt himself was born.

Matt and Geraldine in happier times (2007)

Geraldine was magnificent in the face of what fell out of the heavens on top of her and she had great support from equally grieving family and friends.

I extend my own sympathy to her (as a former Louis boy - Rathmines).

Myself and Matt (2007)

I gather the Yanks nicked most of the photos from the family home in Barrack Street but by some miracle they missed a few which were long later discovered by the next-door neighbours, the O'Malleys, who had bought the house after Aunt Molly's death.

These they gave to Matt and he gave me a loan of them. Otherwise I'd never have known what our great grandfather, Luke Reilly had looked like.

Luke Reilly

So, once again Matt, a belated thanks for that contribution to our family history.

Rest in Peace

READ A BOOK & PULL A BIRD

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The internet is surely a funny place. The seriously literary tweet above turns up in my Twitter timeline, retweeted by friend, historian and scholar, Felix Larkin.

I was curious on two fronts. What was the French interest in our National Library and I was also intrigued by the very clever moniker which implied a lively interest in literature. Just how lively I was about to find out.

So I clicked on their addy and up came their Twitter profile. Deinitely a serious literary crowd I thought.

So I went one step further and clicked on their website and hey presto.

An amorous nude couple in Michaelangelo marble and the provocative statement to the effect that book readers pull more birds.

Johnny in the news

But enough of that for the moment.

What really caught my eye was a picture of Johnny Halliday in an adjacent news item.

Now, my reaction was probably typical of someone of my advanced age: "Jaysus, is he still alive?".

Well he is and he is in deep shit.

Johnny's recent autobiography

When I was an au pair boy in France in 1963, Johnny was all the rage - the French Elvis.

Along with the equally popular French singer, Sylvie Vartan, he dominated issues of the then new pop magazine "Salut les Copains". He and Sylvie were an item by then. They toured together and married in 1965. The marriage lasted till 1980 and Johnny has gone through a few more wives since then. But in 1963 it was all fresh and innocent.

I learned French words like Cacolac and Velosolex along with some slightly stronger ones from my French protegés. But that's a whole nudder story.

Johnny has now published his autobiography, "Dans Mes Yeux", in which he has some not very nice things to say about his third, last but one, wife Adeline Bandieau.

Johnny & Adeline in happier times

He described her as "vile", "hysterical" and "fickle" and went on to accuse her of having been unfaithful and having it off with those little punks in Saint Tropez and then acting like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

She took him to court for defamation and lost. Apparently, according to the court, this sort of stuff is now run of the mill and so does not seriously affect anyone's reputation. To add insult to injury the publisher awarded her €2.

Her brother, who is a lawyer, then took the case to the appeal court which found for her and Johnny now owes her €2,500.

In the course of all these legal shenanigans she accused Johnny of sexually molesting her when she was 15 and, because this was said in court during a trial, it is privileged and he has no come back.

All a long way from those innocent days in 1963.

But to get back to this serious literature thing. Apparently surveys have shown that people who read books have a better chance of hitting it off and going the whole hog (so to speak).

One of the articles in Actualitté goes even further and suggests (above) that it is unwise to embark on a sexual relationship with a person who does not read books.

At the other end of the literary spectrum, it suggests that should one be lucky enough to pick up a date with a librarian the earth could well move.

Source: Actualitté ; Stock

[Pseudo-legal disclaimer: whatever about librarians in the commercial or academic sector, the total disarray of the material in the illustration above (as used by Actualitté itself) could not be further from the magnificent job being done by our own National Library which I have praised elsewhere.]

SKIN THE GOAT

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This is Davy's pub in Leeson Street, Dublin, to where the perpetrators of the Phoenix Park Murders retired after their dreadful deed on 6 May 1882.

That's where I went this evening, on Bloomsday in this year of Our Lord 2016.

Was I sitting on one of the same stools as the perpetrators? I doubt it, as this is now the Leeson Lounge and the decor is changed utterly.

I was there to hear Senan Molony talk about the murders, particularly as they were retailed in one of the chapters of Joyce's Ulysses.

Truly Divine with Eamonn Moran on guitar

In the run up to Senan's act, we were treated to some songs which appeared in Joyce's works and even one actually set to music by the great man himself.

The songs were sung by a Dutch lady whose stage name is Truly Divine. And truly divine they were. This lady is a self taught jazz singer with professional theatrical training and she is a wow. A beautiful voice with a great variety of tonality and great delivery.

It was well worth coming in for this alone.

I'd have liked to hear her sing Piaf and asked her about that. Yes, she does, a little, but more Marlene Dietrich and Doris Day. But her Joyce songs, interspersed with commentary were great. I'd have listened all night.

Senan Molony

But that's not what I was there for. I went to see and hear Senan Molony on the Murders. Readers will know that I have a bone to pick with him, but this turned out not to be the night.

His session got of to a sombre start when he was obliged to refer to the murder of Yorkshire Labour MP Jo Cox who had been shot and stabbed and had died on this very day. This was a tricky one as Senan's talk was about a Yorkshire MP who had been stabbed to death on 6 May 1882 in the Phoenix Park, Lord Cavendish.

In any event tonight's show would go on, but the day's events would add a poignancy to this retelling of an older story.

Senan's talk was quite interesting and he spiced it with some over the top impersonations of Joyce's characters.

His main chapter concerned some newspapermen discussing the murders sixteen years later on 16 June 1904 (Bloomsday) and he explained how Joyce's text was taking potshots at newspaper men in general.

You really had to take Joyce's text apart to understand how he was getting it up for the newspaper guys and Senan gave us a good exegesis of the text.

In passing, he was critical of the English newspapers at the time of the murders when they had tried to implicate Parnell in the dreadful deed although he had nothing to do with it.

He told that one with such a straight face that I'm sure his own earlier linking of Albert Folens with Nazis and war criminals was the last thing on his mind.

Anyway, if he gives the talk again somewhere it would be worth going along.

It might just tempt you to read Ulysses or it might put you off entirely.

BLOOMSDAY 2016

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Bloomsday as a public occasion didn't start to take off until 1954 when a number of Dublin literati made a pilgrimage out to Joyce's Tower in Sandycove. It has slowly caught on and with performers like David Norris coming on the scene it really took off in more recent times.

Bloomsday 110th Anniversary @ Martello No.7 (2014)
(l-r) Niall O'Donoghue, David Hedegan (RIP) and Felix Larkin

Not being a literary type, and prepared to admit that I have never read Ulysses, the day never made much of an impression on me until, very much into later life, I started taking an interest in Martello Towers, mine being principally in No.7 Killiney Bay.

The day then took on a more personal commemorative interest when I realised that it was on that day in 1946 that Gordon Brewster, artist and cartoonist, died in my mother's shop in Howth, and it was on that day in 1948 that my grand-aunt Margaret died in Portrane Asylum, having been there for thirty years.

SKIN-THE-GOAT by Senan Molony
Leeson Lounge, Bloomsday 2016 @ 9pm - all welcome

Despite the emotional loading of the occasion I have no plans to attend any event in particular though I did skim the programme out of pure curiosity. In the course of this I came on the above event where Senan Molony, currently political editor of the Irish Daily Mail, will be recounting the story of "Skin the Goat" (James FitzHarris) who was the driver for the assassins at the Phoenix Park Murders in 1882.

The connection with Bloomsday is apparently Joyce's reference to Myles Crawford recounting the journalist Gallagher's scoop on the Murders. Not being a Joyce exegesist myself I'll leave you to disentangle the affair in this Chapter of Ulysses or you could always go along and hear Senan's version.

Unfortunately, Joyce didn't mention Albert Folens because, as he might have said himself, time didn't permit. Otherwise Senan might have thrown in, as a bonus, his own "scoop" on how Albert Folens was a Nazi, that is until the matter, as intended to be relayed by RTÉ in 2007, went to court and the claim was then reluctantly accompanied by some qualification. Nevertheless, Folens's reputation was truly assassinated and the reverberations are round to this day.