Born: 21 January 1933, Dublin City, County Dublin
Entered: 07 September 1950, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 24 May 1964, Clongowes Wood College SJ, County Kildare
Final Vows: 02 February 1968, Catholic Workers College, Dublin
Died: 01 June 2014, Blackrock Clinic, Dublin

Part of the Manresa House, Dollymount, Dublin community at the time of death.

Early education at Clongowes Wood College SJ

Father Provincial of the Irish Province of the Society of Jesus : 01 September 1980-1986

by 2003 at Mwangaza Nairobi, Kenya (AOR) working

◆ Jesuits in Ireland : https://www.jesuit.ie/news/joe-dargan-vision-and-task/

Joe Dargan: vision and task

It is rare for us to mourn such a servant of the Irish Jesuits as Joe Dargan. His looks were unremarkable: small, bespectacled, usually smiling. He was sturdy, a wing forward on Clongowes cup teams. His friends would describe Joe’s style of rugby as robust. It showed the steely determination hidden under a mild façade.

Wherever he went, he was landed with responsibility: starting with Third Line Prefect in Clongowes (he commented ”In 1958 when I volunteered to go to Zambia, I was told that my Zambia was to be Third Line prefect in Clongowes.”). He went on to be Director of the Province Social Survey, Rector of Emo, of Manresa (twice), of Clongowes, of Gonzaga, and of Belvedere. He was Master of Novices, Instructor of Tertians, Pastoral planning Consultant to the Irish Bishops, and also to the Major Religious Superiors (CMRS), director of the Manresa Centre of Spirituality, Socius to the Provincial, and Provincial. They never made him General, though it’s said that they thought of thrusting a bishopric on him.

You’d imagine that a man with such a gift for administration might be a nerdy type, with rows of secretaries ticking boxes for him. Joe was indeed a methodical man, who consulted wisely, prayed before making decisions, and stayed on the job till it was complete. For instance, he not merely designed the tertianship house in Manresa, but visited the site every day, made friends with the workmen, and so created a beautiful, functional building.

When, as rector of Belvedere, he had to raise funds for a school building, he showed his ability to balance the short-term and the long-term issues. As he put it to groups which he addressed: “A vision without a task is but a dream. A task without a vision is drudgery. A vision with a task is the hope for the future.” Parents were constantly reminded that education was the greatest gift they could leave to their children. With this vision before them, Joe and his collaborators worked on a 30-year plan. Part of the process entailed winning over all the constituents of the college: the Jesuit community, boys, teachers past and present, and past pupils. The target was four million pounds, and Belvedere passed it. If it has received generously, it also gives generously. Between their various projects Belvedere boys raise about a quarter of a million euro annually for charity. It is that vision of men for others, rather than lists of figures, that made these years a stimulating time for Joe Dargan rather than a begging bowl nightmare.

What people remember of Joe, however, is not so much his administrative ability as his kindness, and his readiness to give his time lavishly. He was every inch a priest, with a special gift for being with those in their last illness. It was probably this ease in his priestly role, coupled with his passion for sport, that underlay his friendship with Alex Ferguson of Manchester United.

When he was told some very few months ago that his illness was terminal, Joe was immediately filled with consolation and gratitude for the key people in his life – those he had met and loved, in his family, in the Society, in those extraordinarily rich friendships that he so enjoyed with such beloved friends, male andfemale. As the doctor actually spoke to him, those people’s names and images passed before his inner eye and he was filled with joy and gratitude. Most of us would have sunk at such a moment: not Joe, because the gratitude was to God and to those who were God’s hands and eyes and ears for him in this life.

A friend remarked that Joe was the most extraordinary of ordinary men, unthreatening, affable, and open to the Lord, who achieved great things through him.

◆ Interfuse

Interfuse No 157 : Autumn 2014

Obituary

Fr Joe Dargan (1933-2014)

21 January 1933: Bom in Dublin.
Early education at Dominican Convent, Eccles Street, Dublin, Belvedere, Rockwell College and Clongowes Wood College
7 September 1950: Entered the Society at Emo
8 September 1952 First Vows at Emo
1952 - 1955: Rathfarnham - Studied Arts at UCD
1955 - 1958: Tullabeg - Studied Philosophy
1958 - 1961: Clongowes – Third Line Prefect: Teacher
1961 - 1965: Milltown Park - Studied Theology
24 May 1964: Ordained at Clongowes Wood College
1965 - 1966: Rathfarnham – Tertianship
1966 - 1968: CIR – Director of Province Social Survey
2nd February 1968: Final Vows at CIR
1968 - 1969: Emo - Rector & Master of Novices
1969 - 1974: Manresa House – Rector and Master of Novices
1974 - 1977: Manresa - Rector; Director Centre of Spirituality
1977 - 1979: Clongowes - Rector; Asst. Provincial (visitor)
1979 - 1980: Socius to Provincial
1980 - 1986: Loyola House - Provincial
1986 - 1987: Loyola House - Sabbatical, assisted CMRS
1987 - 1993: Gonzaga - Rector & CMRS General Secretary
1993 - 2002: Belvedere - Rector; Consultant to Bishops on Pastoral Planning; Belvedere – Rector; Consultant to Bishops on Pastoral Planning (until 1997) Chair of Boards of Management of Manresa and Belvedere College.
2005 - 2014: Manresa – Vice-Rector; Tertian Director
2006 - 2012: Manresa Rector; Tertian Director
2012 - 2014: Vice-Rector and Tertian Director

Joe was not feeling well for some weeks and went into the Blackrock Clinic on March 23rd. Tests revealed extensive cancer. He accepted the results and the prognosis with grace and faith, continuing to reach out to people over the following weeks. There was a gradual decline in his condition and he died peacefully on Ascension Sunday morning. May he rest in the Peace of Christ

Since Fr Joseph Dargan, or just Joe (as I came to know him), passed away on the day we celebrated the Feast of the Ascension, he has been pointing not to himself but to the God he loved. In the manner of his dying, down to the very timing, and at his funeral, he was asking us to grapple with the question in the first reading at the funeral Mass from Deutero-Isaiah: “Look, I am doing something new, now it emerges: can you not see it?” He was inviting us to listen to the message of hope and encouraging us to live out of that hope. The words of St. Patrick's Breastplate have been reverberating in my mind these past days:

Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me.

These words represent the key to understanding what Joe desired, and the reality to which he pointed in all his interactions with us, when talking of God or mammon (in the form of Manchester United) - and everything in between.

The American Poet, Mary Oliver, in Honey Locust, describes a tree, native to North America, in blossom and the bees seeking the nectar:

The bees circle the tree and dive into it.
They are crazy with gratitude,
They are working like farmers.
They are as happy as saints.

I am going to frame my words around these lines.

The bees circle the tree and dive into it
This is the disposition that Fr. Joe brought to everything he did. He engaged fully. He dived into life, in whatever circumstances: in Manresa, in the then CMRS, in Gonzaga, Clongowes and Belvedere, in Mwangaza, in Loyola. And in whatever role, from Provincial to spiritual director, from Chair of the Board to lover of family, and so on.

And how he loved bis family: while I name only his brother Michael (or Mick) and his beloved sister Mairéad, they stand for all the family, those who have gone before Joe, those here present including the 18 nieces and grandnieces - not forgetting the nephews, including Joe the younger. He also enjoyed the deepest of friendships. And I have often thought that his great gift of being able to relate with women was modelled on the way that Jesus himself related to women in the Gospels, Joe engaged with all persons in the fullest way possible.

The bees are crazy with gratitude
Joe had almost zero concern for the material things of this world. As a. novice, I remember a fellow novice speculating one day that he thought that Joe had only one pair of shoes: in fact, watching thereafter, we never saw him in other than that one sturdy, black pair. That's not to deny that he didn't enjoy being able to stream the big football game - say Man U at home to Liverpool this season! But when challenged about such a worldly use of the computer, Joe would say simply, that the computer is merely an apostolic aid!' He was truly indifferent to worldly possessions. Given that significant business people who came to know him well, even to depend on him in some measure, would say that had Joe chosen a different path, that he would undoubtedly have been a very successful businessperson, we might ask ourselves, what is the source of his indifference to worldly goods?

The answer in significant part lies in the reading from Deutero Isaiah. Like the exiled Jewish people in Babylonia, so Joe needed to hear - and did hear at the deepest level of his being - those words from God through the prophet:

“I regard you as precious, since you are honoured and I love you. Do not be afraid for I have redeemed you. No need to remember past events. Look, I am doing something new, now it emerges: can you not see it?”

These words were heard as being addressed to him - and to each of us! It intrigued Joe that the reading ends with a big question: “Can you, can we, not see it?” In the Ascension, God did something new with Jesus and it emerges that there is hope and that hope is grounded in the death, resurrection and ascension of the Son of God. And, in his dying on the Feast of the Ascension, God did something new in Joseph. Can you not see it?

Out of this was born the person that Joe became: a most grateful person.

When he was told some very few months ago that his illness was terminal, Joe was immediately filled with consolation and gratitude for the key people in his life - those he had met and loved, in his family, in the Society, in those extraordinarily rich friendships that he so enjoyed with such beloved friends, male and female. As the doctor actually spoke to him, those people's names and images passed before his inner eye and he was filled with joy and gratitude.

Most of us would have sunk at such a moment: not Joe, because the gratitude was to God and to those who were God's hands and eyes and ears for him in this life.

But, to be clear, Joe was not like a plastic or alabaster statue. As a young Jesuit student in Rathfarnham and Tullabeg and Milltown, he would come from his room, football boots in his hands, pay a visit to the Blessed Sacrament on the way to the pitch, pray intensely out of gratitude to God - and then go out on the pitch and hack down anyone who dared to try and pass him, leaving his opponent sprawling on the ground, with Joe standing over him, full of concern!

And in the spirit of consolation that sustained him in recent weeks, on being visited by Mr. Gerard Foley, currently headmaster of Belvedere, Joe's mischievous sense of humour enabled him to whisper, Thank God you came in to Belvedere when you did: that other fellow left an awful mess!'

Gratitude and grace - the latter understood as relationship with God - and consolation - but never without bite, never without humour!

The bees around the honey locust are working like farmers
Out of that spirit of gratitude, I suspect that unlike most of us, Joe wasted very few moments during his 81+ years. He gave his all to every project and to every person: in his presence, one never felt that Joe had to be elsewhere - you got his undivided attention.

From sticking faithfully to a physiotherapist's instructions, to thorough engagement with the Irish Province social survey in response to Vatican II back in the 1960's, to the meticulous attention to detail in the planning document, Our Mission in Ireland drawn up during his time as Provincial - strategic planning was a prominent feature of every work that he engaged in, not least with the CMRS - down to the legacy that is the tertianship today, co-created with his Dutch colleague Fr. Jan van de Poll - in all of that, the focus was always on the mission, to bring the love of Christ to the other.

Who knows how many lives he saved - I mean that in the deepest sense - through his love-enriched, Christ-focused interaction with so many people, bom of the Spiritual Exercises, of his love of the poor - witness his work in Africa, his work on the bursary programme in Belvedere, his reception of the orphans from Africa every summer - and of his love of the Church?

In the Letter to the Ephesians, read like Deutero-Isaiah at his funeral, St Paul prays for his “hidden self to grow strong”. Richard Rohr says somewhere that “the True Self is that part of you who knows who you are and whose you are, although largely unconsciously. Your False Self is just who you think you are - but thinking doesn't make it so”. Throughout his life, Joe took the risk of going deeper, below the ego, to discern “who and whose” we are. Joe lived the self-reflective prayer of Ignatius known as the Examen. He truly devoted himself to prayer and reflection. And so his “hidden self” grew out of and into God, into Jesus Christ, enriched greatly through his love of Mary, the Mother of God, and of the Church, and of the Society of Jesus.

Everything he did was to try to get us on the same path, knowing it was the way to genuine inner peace and contentment for each of us. In the prayerful words of the late Pedro Arrupe S), former General of the Society:

Grant me, O Lord, to see everything with new eyes,
To discern and test the spirits
That help me read the signs of the times,
To relish the things that are yours
and to communicate them to others.
Give me the clarity of understanding that you gave Ignatius'.

This became Joe's own prayer.

In a wonderful little piece, Leonard Cohen asks, “what is a saint?”:

A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos....but he is at home in the world. He can love the shapes of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have amongst us such (persons), such balancing monsters of love.

Joe was just such a person, filled with the energy of love and with that balance. He knew, of course, that it is in Christ that an ever deeper hope resides.

But this is not to go back to the alabaster statue. A Jesuit friend and I went out to dinner one night, in a restaurant very close to Manresa. (I remember it well because I paid!) This mutual friend put a little idea into our heads: why not call in to visit Joe on the way home, but not tell him why we were there together, leaving him with the impression that the Provincial had given us a very important task, on behalf of the Province, which we were not free to talk about! We didn't have to travel far into Manresa: there was Joe walking the upper path, rosary beads in hand. At every opportunity, for months after, indeed for the past couple of years, Joe never missed an opportunity to try to find out what was going on. He was innately curious. He loved to know what was going on.

A Board colleague of the time reminded me of a Board meeting in Belvedere in the days when Belvedere was well run!) when, as headmaster, I conveyed some information about an issue to do with rugby (of all things!). Joe, sitting next to me, rounded on me and asked if I was informing the Board of this matter or asking their opinion. A bit perplexed, I - allegedly - floundered and said I supposed I was informing the Board. Joe's two hands stretched out, in a familiar gesture of his and said: “Fine, fine, that's fine - because if you were asking us, I wouldn't agree with you!” Saintly, but as cute as a fox, wise as the serpent, simple as the dove.

Like his fellow Jesuits, he knew himself to be a sinner yet loved by Jesus: on his sick-bed he acknowledged that he had made mistakes in his life, but that these were forgotten and forgiven.

Those bees are as happy as saints
The integrity, the consistency of the spoken word and gesture, and the manner of his dying, confirm for us that Joe meant what he said, and said what he meant.

He understood himself and each one of us to be a new creation, and that in life and in death we give witness to the Resurrection. All this in faith and in hope. He made as his own Pedro Arrupe's prayer in his own illness:

Now more than ever I find myself in the hands of God.
This is what I have wanted all my life from my youth.
But now there is a difference:
The initiative is entirely with God.
It is indeed a profound spiritual experience
To know and feel myself so totally in God's hands!

In recent times, Joe was unable to celebrate Mass: a Sister friend suggested to me the other evening that this was his time to be, like Pierre Teillhard de Chardin SJ, offering his “Mass on the world”. Once, when in China, Teillhard had no bread or wine with which to celebrate Mass. He expressed his deep love for the Eucharist in his essay of that name, which begins:

Since once again, Lord .... I have neither bread nor wine, nor altar, I will raise myself beyond these symbols, up to the pure majesty of the real itself; I, your priest, will make the whole earth my altar and it will offer you all the labours and sufferings of the world.

Joe chose the funeral Mass reading from Matthew's Gospel because the words, “This is My body - this is My blood”, were the centre-piece of his vocation. These, he said as he faced death, are the most important words to say at that hour.

In the final lines of Honey Locust, Mary Oliver writes:

So it is if the heart has devoted itself to love,
There is not a single inch of emptiness.
Gladness gleams all the way to the grave.

A fitting epitaph for Joe, as God in him and throughout his life, says to us: “Look, I am doing something new, now it emerges: can you not see it?!”

Leonard Moloney

Joe Dargan: Three Memories

Brendan Staunton

First memory:
During my first year theology in Milltown, Joe asked me to come to Manresa on Sunday mornings and introduce the novices to literature. So I'd cross the city on my Honda 50, with Saul Bellow, Ayn Rand, James Joyce and Co., in tow. The rhetoric of fiction was closer to my existential concerns than the theological questions we were being fed. In fact, the fare was all answers to issues and battles fought long before our time. So the answers were stale. The waves of Vatican Two were approaching, however, onto Irish shores, and Milltown, broadly speaking, was receptive and open to the experiential and empirical. So Joe's invitation was a Godsend, and at the end of our two-hour sessions he would hand me a ten pound note, saying “that's for petrol”! (Less than two would fill the tank!)

Second Memory:
I'm about to go on Tertianship. Joe calls. He had been at a function in The Red House, where Dermot Ryan had complained about all the Religious going abroad to be trained for formation work Particularly the USA. Joe, Head of CORI, told him he had someone at home now who had trained in London. So the idea of Loreto House was born, and I was asked to set it up and get it going with two Sisters. And the rest is history!

Third Memory:
We are in Rome for a month's Conference on the Spiritual Exercises, attended by 101 people, mostly Jesuits, but also other religious and lay collaborators from 40 countries. The approach is mostly academic: content orientated; lecture style; dense and heavy. Starting with Fr General, the lecturers were all stately, formal figures from the Greg. After three long mornings, Joe raised his hand, and asked a question. A huge burst of applause broke out! Only Joe would have got away with it, as there was no offense heard, but the feedback hit the nail on the head. The fact of his being a previous Provincial probably helped too, and the talks and afternoon sessions became more experiential and participative.

◆ The Clongownian, 2014

Obituary

Father Joe Dargan SJ

“Fr Joe Dargan SJ who died in June, had been ill for the previous three months” - writes the Headmaster, Fr Moloney. “Fr. Joe was at school in Clongowes, where he won a JCT medal and served as Captain of the College. He joined the Jesuits straight from school, returning as Third Line Prefect from 1958-61 and as Rector in the late 1970's before going on to be Provincial of the Irish Province (1980-'86). Until recently he was Tertian Master at Manresa House in Dublin. In his time he was also Master of Novices, Rector of Belvedere (1993-2002), spiritual director at the Jesuit Retreat House in Nairobi, and Director and Rector of Manresa Retreat House. He was a great person, accepting the results and prognosis of recent medical tests with grace and faith, continuing to reach out to people over the past few weeks, He died peacefully on Ascension Sunday morning”.

We print the following tribute to Fr Joe, Courtesy of Irish Jesuit News ...

Joe Dargan: vision and task

It is rare for us to mourn such a servant of the Irish Jesuits as Joe Dargan. His looks were unremarkable: small, bespectacled, and usually smiling. He was sturdy, a wing forward on Clongowes cup teams. His friends would describe Joe's style of rugby as robust. It showed the steely determination hidden under a mild façade.

Whereverhewent, he was landed with responsibility, starting with Third Line Prefect in Clongowes (he commented “In 1958 when I volunteered to go to Zambia, I was told that my Zambia was to be Third Line prefect in Clongowes”.). He went on to be Director of the Province Social Survey, Rector of Emo, of Manresa (twice), of Clongowes, of Gonzaga, and of Belvedere. He was Master of Novices, Instructor of Tertians, Pastoral Planning Consultant to the Irish Bishops, and also to the Major Religious Superiors (CMRS), director of the Manresa Centre of Spirituality, Socius to the Provincial, and Provincial. They never made him General, though it's said that they thought of thrusting a bishopric on him.

You'd imagine that a man with such a gift for administration might be a nerdy type, with rows of secretaries ticking boxes for him. Joe was indeed a methodical man, who consulted wisely, prayed before making decisions, and stayed on the job till it was complete. For instance, he not merely designed the tertianship house in Manresa, but visited the site every day, made friends with the workmen, and so created a beautiful, functional building.

When, as rector of Belvedere, he had to raise funds for a school building, he showed his ability to balance the short-term and the long-term issues. As he put it to groups, which he addressed: “A vision without a task is but a dream. A task without a vision is drudgery. A vision with a task is the hope for the future”. Parents were constantly reminded that education was the greatest gift they could leave to their children. With this vision before them, Joe and his collaborators worked on a 30-year plan. Part of the process entailed winning over all the constituents of the college: the Jesuit community, boys, teachers past and present, and past pupils. The target was four million pounds, and Belvedere passed it. If it has received generously, it also gives generously. Between their various projects Belvedere boys raise about a quarter of a million euro annually for charity. It is that vision of men for others, rather than lists of figures, that made these years a stimulating time for Joe Dargan rather than a begging bowl nightmare.

What people remember of Joe, however, is not so much his administrative ability as his kindness, and his readiness to give his time lavishly. He was every inch a priest, with a special gift for being with those in their last illness. It was probably this ease in his priestly role, coupled with his passion for sport that underlay his friendship with Alex Ferguson of Manchester United.

When he was told some very few months ago that his illness was terminal, Joe was immediately filled with consolation and gratitude for the key people in his life - those he had met and loved, in his family, in the Society, in those extraordinarily rich friendships that he so enjoyed with such beloved friends, male and female. As the doctor actually spoke to him, those people's names and images passed before his inner eye and he was filled with joy and gratitude. Most of us would have sunk at such a moment: not Joe, because the gratitude was to God and to those who were “God's hands and eyes and ears” for him in this life. A friend remarked that Joe was the most extraordinary of ordinary men, unthreatening, affable, and open to the Lord, who achieved great things through him..

PA

Born: 01 February 1865, Tipperary Town, County Tipperary
Entered: 01 February 1883, Milltown Park, Dublin and Loyola House, Dromore, County Down
Ordained: 01 August 1897, St Francis Xavier's, Upper Gardiner Street, Dublin
Final Vows: 15 August 1900
Died: 16 July 1938, Mount Saint Evin’s Hospital, Fitzroy, Australia - Australiae Province (ASL)

Part of the Xavier College, (Kostka Hall) Kew, Melbourne, Australia community at the time of death.

Transcribed : HIB to ASL 05/04/1931

Transcribed : HIB to ASL 05/04/1931

by 1899 at Leuven Belgium (BELG) making Tertianship
Came to Australia 1889 for Regency

◆ David Strong SJ “The Australian Dictionary of Jesuit Biography 1848-2015”, 2nd Edition, Halstead Press, Ultimo NSW, Australia, 2017 - ISBN : 9781925043280
Patrick McCurtin was one of the best prefects of studies the Australian province has ever seen, and perhaps the best all round educationist. He was a most dynamic and active presence in both New South Wales and Victoria, and made a deep impression on all colleagues, but especially non-Jesuits. The Teachers' Guild of NSW benefitted by his services as member, councillor and president during the years, 1912-21. He was appreciated for his influence, wit and keen insight into all matters under discussion. He endeared himself to people by his unfailing courtesy and solicitude for the welfare of everyone. From 1914-16 he was the Catholic representative on the Bursary Endowment Board of NSW, a strong voice, with “breadth of view and clear outlook”, seeking equality for Catholic schools. McCurtin was also active during the school holidays giving retreats. McCurtin's early education was at Rockwell College before entering the Jesuits at Milltown Park, Dublin, 1 February 1883, After philosophy in 1888, he was sent to Xavier College, Melbourne, until 1894, teaching senior classes and assisting the prefect of studies. He returned to Ireland for theology, and was then sent to Belvedere College, 1897-98, before his tertianship at Tronchiennes. He returned to Belvedere in 1899 and was prefect of studies for 1901 before he left for Australia again, arriving at St Patrick's College as prefect of studies in 1901. When sending McCurtin to Australia, the Irish provincial, James Murphy, wrote to the mission superior, John Ryan, that he should be grateful to receive “an invaluable man, most holy and edifying, earnest, active and unsparing, methodical and practical”.
From 1903-10 he was prefect of studies at Xavier College before his appointment as rector of St Aloysius' College, 1910-16. It was during these years that college rectors expressed considerable concern about the insufficient quality of Jesuit teachers, especially for the senior classes. Many fathers were considered too old or unwell. McCurtin was particularly concerned that St Aloysius College was given poor quality teaching staff by a succession of mission superiors, hence its reputation for inefficiency. He believed that superiors did not believe in the future of the college. He was concerned about the lack of professionalism of Jesuits in education, and the lagging response of Jesuits to progressive changes in educational theory and practice. Furthermore, there was not money for secular teachers, and Catholic teachers were hard to find. Despite his concerns, St Aloysius' College was registered as a first class school in New South Wales and ranked among the best schools. The public examination results were good and the spirit among the boys most pleasing.
The question of poor teaching staff at St Aloysius' College led to the dramatic resignation of McCurtin as rector in 1916, when the mission superior transferred Dominic Connell, “one of our best masters”, to become parish priest at Norwood, SA. At the time there were very few competent teachers on the staff, and finances were not good, which made the employment of lay teachers difficult. McCurtin believed that the image of the school would suffer. Jesuit superiors, including the General, did not appreciate this resignation. After a further period as prefect of studies at Xavier College, and Riverview, 1917-21, he returned to Ireland, where he later became superior of the Apostolic School at Mungret and rector of the Crescent College, Limerick, 1923-31. Wishing to end his days in Australia he returned to do good work as headmaster at both Burke Hall and Kostka Hall. He died in St Evin’s Hospital after sustaining a heart attack. McCurtin was a striking figure-a small, slight, alert, active, dapper person. He was fond of flowers and beautiful things, was orderly and methodical, artistic with exquisite handwriting, and humorous, with great social charm. His Jesuit brethren found him to be a colleague with very definite opinions strongly held and, on occasion, vigorously expressed, but he was also a tolerant and kind character with a keen sense of humour. Because he was what he was, he found it difficult working with immediate superiors who did not possess his own qualities. As prefect of studies at Riverview, 1918-21, he experienced much frustration, anxiety and illness because of the disorderliness and apparent lack of enthusiasm for academic excellence. He showed special interest in the Old Boys of all the colleges in which he served. While in Ireland he kept up continual correspondence, especially with Xavier College and St Aloysius College. Former students praised him for his fatherly care, his spirit of broadmindedness and tolerance, and other good qualities that made him a universal favorite. They spoke of him as a dynamic personality, builder and developer, and a polished gentleman. During his educational work, Patrick McCurtin was continually involved with educational issues, both for the development of Jesuit pedagogy and Catholic schooling in Australia. Australia was fortunate to have had the services of McCurtin's considerable administrative ability and clear vision. He was totally professional in his approach to education, an attitude not always appreciated by his superiors. Together with James O'Dwyer, to whom he dedicated a marble altar in the Burke Hall chapel, he improved the attitude of Australian Jesuits towards academic achievement, while his contact with educational organisations and State committees of education gave the Jesuits wider influence in the community.

Note from Dominic Connell Entry
He was sent mid year to Manresa Norwood to replace Henry Cock. This resulted in a major drama when the Rector of St Aloysius, Patrick McCurtin, resigned in protest, claiming that Dominic was his only good Jesuit teacher

Note from John Forster Entry
He returned to Australia and St Aloysius Sydney, and he was appointed Rector there in 1916 following the resignation of Patrick McCurtin

Note from John Williams Entry
John Williams (RIP 1981) had a sad childhood. His Irish mother and Welsh father died leaving five small children, three boys and two girls. He was looked after by a relative of his, Father Patrick McCurtin, and was a boarder at Mungret.

◆ Irish Province News
Irish Province News 1st Year No 4 1926
College of the Sacred Heart Limerick : On May 16th, Fr McCurtin's appointment as Rector was announced. On the same day, his predecessor, Fr L. Potter, took up his new duties as Superior of the Apostolic School. During his seven years' rectorship the Church was considerably extended, a new organ gallery erected, and a new organ installed. A beautiful new Shrine in honor of the Sacred Heart was added, and a marble flooring to the Sanctuary laid down.

Irish Province News 13th Year No 4 1938
Obituary :
Father Patrick McCurtin
1865 Born 1st February in Tipperary town
1883 Milltown. Novice
1884 Dromore, Novice (Noviceship changed to Dromore)
1885-87 Milltown, Philosophy
1888-93 Kew (Australia) Doc., etc
1894-96 Milltown. Theol
1897 Belvedere. Doc. Cons. dom
1898 Tronchiennes. Tertian
1899 Belvedere. Doc.. Cons. dom
1900 Belvedere. Praef. Stud. Cons. dom
1901-02 Melbourne. St. Patrick's. Praef. Stud.. Cons. dom
1903-09 Kew. Doc. Cons. dom
1910-16 Sydney, Milson's Point, Rector, Doc. Oper
1917-19 Kew, Praef. Stud. Doc. an. 25, Cons. dom
1918-20 Riverview, Sydney, Preef. Stud. Cons. dom
1921 Clongowes, Doc. Praes. acad. sen., etc
1922 Rathfarnham. Miss. Excurr
1923-25 Mungret, Superior Apostol., Lect. Phil., Cons. dom
1926-31 Crescent, Rector. Doc. an. 37 mag., etc
1932 Australia, Loyola, Soc. Mag. Nov
1933-36 Kew, Min. Burke Hall, Doc. an. 42 mag. Cons. dom
1937-38 Kew, Min. Kostka Hall, Doc. an. 42 mag. Cons. dom

He went to Australia for the third time in the autumn 1931. Died Saturday, 16th July, 1938

Outside studies, etc., Father McCurtin spent only twelve years of his Jesuit life in Ireland. The rest, thirty-three years, was passed in Australia where he held with distinction many important posts including the Rectorship of Milson's Point for six years. He died when in charge of the newly established preparatory school Kostka Hall. He holds the distinguished record of forty-four years teaching in one or other of our Colleges.

◆ The Aloysian, Sydney, 1923

An Appreciation

Father Patrick J McCurtin SJ

In 1911 we schoolboys of St. Aloysius' saw a pile of luggage heaped at the back of the Masters' house. · On the following day someone had a letter from a boy at Xavier, where Father McCurtin had previously taught, saying that the school name of our new Rector was Fr McCurtin. That was our first introduction. We met him lter, and it is not too much to say that we found him quite unlike the priest we had pictured in imagination.

He was short in build, and dressed then, as he always was, immaculately. I think he was the only one of the staff who wore a silk hat; he fitted a “bell-topper” so well that we would almost have doubted his identity were he crowned only with felt, and minus cuffs and stick. I believe he abandoned some of these distinguishing marks in later years. He was thin and spare. A man of intense enthusiasm and energy such as he possessed could not well be otherwise. We did not know that even then his health was not good; his consistent vitality gave indication of a robust constitution. We always thought him a much younger man than he was; his appearance belied his age. Brisk walker, brisk thinker, brisk and sure in judgment-everything: about him told of the high-tensioned mechanism that controlled him, or, rather, that he had learned to hold in subjection. Strachey's description of Arnold fitted the Rector admirably: “His outward appearance was the index of his inward character; everything about him denoted energy, earnestness and the best intentions”. His eyes read a person at a glance. I cannot remember any boy trying to deceive him or treat him in any other way than siti cerely and earnestly. We felt that it wouldn't pay: or, perhaps, a keen boyish instinct convinced us that he deserved the best treatment we could give.

When Father McCurtin came to Aloysius we felt that progress was assured ; we were impelled by the influence of a great personality to co-operate in that progress. Few lagged behind; success and an increase in attendance came at an incredible pace.

He taught English and Religious Know ledge during my time. His methods were very direct. He was accustomed to give his views - favourable or otherwise on the suitability of a text-book, and, sometimes, on the mythical Board of Examiners who set the book. This method of critical analysis soon showed its influence on the boys, who began to look for faults and virtues in a book, and gradually ceased to read as a task or merely from the motive of idle curiosity. His speech as President, of the Teachers' Guild of NSW recalls much of what he said to his boys in 1912 and 1913. In 1915 he was able to say that the Representatives of the Registered and State Schools had met the Board of Examiners and secured a certain amount of success. In typically sarcastic language the long-experienced teacher had a gibe at the methods of these theorists in education : Usually, the teacher has to gaze at the examiner and the law-giver from a respect fui distance, and strive to gauge his be nevolence through the thunderous cloud of his majesty. But last year the very gods came down from a remote Olympus and mixed with mortals. Thus a better under standing has arisen between the University authorities and the members of the teach ing profession”.

Another feature of the Rector's teaching was to encourage individual effort.. He could gauge a boy's likes and dislikes; he directed each one wisely along the road adapted for him by Nature. Take the modern school curriculum as an example of crushing out individuality. The day is full of half-hours devoted to a dozen subjects; and the boy must try to get a superficial knowledge of all these or be plucked in the examinations These public exami nations have been so magnified in impor ance that they are regarded by a natic of shopkeepers as the criterion of a boy or a college's efficiency. Yet, how many! the successful candidates have ever bee introduced into the portals of the hall { learning; how many have ever been taugl to study for the love of study or knowledg or without constraint from a master's las or a possible examination failure hangin over their heads like a threatening swor of Damocles. The best proof of the inad: quacy of our examination system is ti current belief that a boy'is educated whe he leaves school. The truth is that by the he should have learned how to begin 1 study seriously. Father McCurtin ha something to say about the crammin system in his 1915 address to the Teacher Guild:

“There is, indeed, one problem which is a spectre of the future, but is right here with us. It is really one part of a problein, though. very important part. We have a syllabus for a schools, for all candidates. One may introduce slight variations here and there for some pupil but the freedom possible is not great when it comes to practice. Whether it would be wise not to cast varying minds and varying taste, and aptitudes into one mould, I shall not discuss. ... Ordinarily, it is safer to propher after an event, but I do hazard the forecast that the matter will some day clamour for attention at the hands of our educators in New South Wales”

Father McCurtin was not lacking in el couragement for every honest effort. Ei couragement is becoming out of date i modern times, in proportion to the growt I of self-interest and the cult of selfishness. A pat on the back for an honest attempt may change the whole trend of life for a honest boy. But surprisingly few teachers and employers notice the good points in an effort; they concentrate on condemning the deficiencies which are evident to them after years of training and experience. Father McCurtin could wield a weapon of the most cutting sarcasm when he wished; but after the lash had fallen beavily he would always bring out some balm of encouragement for a good point that had lain hidden under the defects. He had a hand always ready to assist the less capable boy; a lash (nearly always verbal) to urge on the lazy; and a rapier. of sarcasm to deflate the swollen pride of the unwarrantably venturesome. But he never completely deflated the boyish balloon; he discharged the hot-air and tied it firmly to mother-earth lest it rise too quickly and immaturely. I was once told of an incident concerning a school essay; it illustrates this trait of his teaching, A certain student whose literary attempts had never shows any more than the evi dences of unpleasant tasks, and from whom the Rector expected better results, deter mined to take a rise out of the master. He compiled a plan, vrote an essay in rough, amended it, and finally handed in a ten page manuscript that was considerably above the average for a schoolboy. He took the precautiou to leave it unsigned. On the Tuesday following the Rector placed the pile of essays on the desk; and promptly, as was his wont, rejected half of them as worthless. He commented on the remainder, reserving the ten-page effusion for special comment. The laudatory com .ments were directed at a boy who found · no opportunity to disclaim ownership until the end of a long review. When the real author was discovered the Rector changed his tactics, and re-examined the essay. Be ginning with the plan, following paragraph after paragraph, analysing construction of sentences, criticising phraseology, concep tions and presentation, the unfortunate author was quickly convinced that little more than the title was unassailable. I have heard that boy say many a time tirat that essay and that day's criticism started him to think seriously of writing. Some years later that same boy handed over the manuscript of a lengthy book to the same master, and begged of him to dis sect and reject, feeling confident that what Father McCurtin left intact would be av cepted by the world at large. He did dissect with an incredible precision, insiglit and minuteness, and sent a covering letter, which I was allowed to read, and from which I am granted permission to reproduce the opening sentences. He wrote: “My dear --; I have just finished the last line of your book, and wish to send you my warmest congratulations at once. The thing I do wish especially to write is: God bless you... I feel as proud as Punch of you."

His educational efforts were not confined within the walls of Aloysius'. For nine years - 1912 to 1921- he was an influential member of the Teachers Guild of New South Wales. The Hon Secretary of the Guild gives the following information con cerning his activities in educational matters :

“Father McCurtin joined the Guild somewhere about 1912. In 1913, when Rector of St Aloy sius' College, he opened a discussion on the revised syllabus for Secondary Schools in consequence of which important resolutions were passed and forwarded to the Board of Examiners. He was elected Vice-President in 1913, and was President for the year 1914-15; and thereafter was on the Council till he went abroad. Always a keen debater and vigorous uphoider of the I rights of the non-State seliools, he was deputed to speak on behalf of the Headmasters' Association at the meeting held at the University in 1921, when the matter of the compulsory registration of teachers was advocated. It was his telling speech that defeated the measure as being one for which the time was not yet ripe in this State, and as being likely to bring the schools more and more under Government control.

He represented the Catholic schools on the Bursary Board from March, 1910, until February, 1917, when, on being removed to Melboume, he resigned his position. He severed his connection with the Guild on his departure for Europe in 1921”.

An appreciation of his services in the cause of education in Australia appeared in “The Australian Teacher” (April, 23). Since the notice represented the views of his associates in educational matters who were members of every religion, it may be taken for granted that the eulogism is un biassed and deserved.

“The Guild has suffered a distinct loss in the departure of Father McCurtin. His shrewd and logical criticism was always helpful, and facili tated the solution of many problems. He is at present engaged in missionary work in Ireland”.

Far be it from my intention to criticise the wisdom of Father McCurtin's transfer to Ireland. It can be said with impunity, however, that Australia suffered an almost irreparable loss when he left our shores. Our educational efforts, which are for the most part in the tentative and experimen tal stage as they must be in a young country-needed. the advice and ripe di rection of such a man. We can hardly spare men of the Father McCurtin capabilities and experience, who can speak with authority and suggest directions when the politically driven ship of national education is grating on the rocks of disaster.

He has now a responsible position in Ireland as Spiritual Director to the ecclesiastical students at Mungret. He is eminently suited for any position where the training of young men is concerned. From him they may learn wisdom that has heen gained by long and varied experience; from contact with him they may grow like him. For his personality is such that it irradiates manliness and culture, just as the flowering wistaria vine perfumes and be decks with a rich splendour the battered shed wherein such mundane creatures as cows and chickens sleep.
Father MeCurtin has left his impress upon hundreds of Australian boys, now grown into respectable citizens of a young Commonwealth. They are in every walk of life; in the Church, medicine, law and business; distinguished in war and in peace. They are his best biography. He left an indelible mark on all people and organisations associated with him.

We can say truthfully of him: Australia is a better country because he once lived in it; it is poorer than it would have been had he remained in it.

EOB

◆ The Aloysian, Sydney, 1933

Golden Jubilarian

Father Patrick J McCurtin SJ

The courteous patience of the Rev Editor of the School Magazine should have been incentive sufficient to make me begin and finish this article. But as usual I am running late, and probably, delaying the issue of the magazine. My greatest difficulty, I find, is to make a literary sketch of Father McCurtin. In a sketch the lines must be few and definite, but complete. The task for a draughtsman would be easier than for the writer, because Father McCurtin's spare frame is more angular and more linear than that of any other Jesuit. (And that is a bold statement about an Order where the litheness of the athlete has been a consistent character istic, as befitted “runners of God” on a world-wide course.) Nevertheless, the spare frame of this good Jesuit is charged with such energy that only a sculptor, using all the dimensions, might portray it fittingly. And this sculptor would need to be proficient in the art of making marble eyes that would mirror a great soul; for Father McCurtin is gifted with eyes that see and understand all things, eyes that can coax or threaten, sympathise or smile, despite the firm-set mouth. In stature he is small, so small that the unexpected demeanour of strength, which he manifests, overwhelms boys completely. His self-sufficiency, general proficiency, and equanimity cannot fail in arousing spontaneous hero-worship. One naturally expects six-foot giants to manifest strength, because they seem to be built for it; but when the capacity for government is manifested in a small man, one sits up and takes notice. The small man is more picturesque; thus was Bonaparte.

I write of the Father McCurtin whom I knew twenty years ago; since then I have often met him, but I have always avoided seeing him as the years have changed him. A few months ago I dined with Father McCurtin at Burke Hall, Melbourne, after he had put to bed several baby boys who seemned not at all in awe of him. Though time had brought me closer to his own level of knowledge I could, or would, not discard the mantle of pupil in the presence of the master. It was not mere imagination, nor might it be explained modernly in the terms of an inferiority complex. For here is the proof: he and I played billiards doggedly, unremittingly, interminably for almost two hours, neither one of us manifesting any skill in the game, and we might have continued until doomsday had not an urgent call put an end to the game. I detest billiards at any time and in any place; but I detest the game with an added zest when it is played with so interesting a man as Father McCurtin.

I suppose I should not allow the preceding paragraph to go to the Editor; it is quite uninteresting, I know. Moreover, such writing is bad-form in these days of Oxford drawls, languid-self interest and regulated behaviour. It is bad form to register the human interest of a pupil's affection for an old master. Nowadays such is quite rare; masters are compelled to become machine-like purveyors of information that is weighed out and apportioned according to the requirements of a nationalised syllabus. (A foretaste of the Soviet, of which the nation is unconscious!) Overworked pupils must study only their text-books, not their masters. It is only an exceptional master who can rise above the system, and only a philosopher or incipient Bolshevik pupil who can follow suit. But twenty-five years ago we took our time, and when I come to think of it I believe that those pupils did not turn out so badly after all for many of them went to Anzac, whence some never returned. I am at a disadvantage when meeting the masters of to-day, for I meet them on terms of equality, and a pupil is the best judge of the master as a patient is the best judge of the physician. So, if pupils a quarter of a century hence remember their masters as we of prior generations remember ours, the present system, or more correctly, its exponents, will be honorably and affectionately esteemed. How long ago, how anciently, does that sentence indicate! Yet, to-day Father McCurtin seems as young, or as old, as he did that quarter of a century ago.

Three days ago I was at Bourke in the far-west of New South Wales, and I was thinking of Father McCurtin, or rather thinking about the necessity of writing this article. No superior would ever have sent Father McCurtin to Bourke; he simply would not have fitted into the west; but there he was surely enough, enthroned in the affectionate remembrances and conversation, and evident in the wide-outlook and zeal of two Irish priests, whom he had taught and fashioned at Mungret. The McCurtin impression is, I believe, as widely circulated and as indelibly impressed on worthy men as is the King's head on the coinage of the realm. In such fruits of his labours he may, and should, take much satisfaction; good, wholesome pride that his work has been worth while and permanent, helping to maintain the Kingdom of God in more than one country of the world.

Though I fully believe that this article has too much of the first personal pronoun in it, and is much too flattering in tone to afford any satisfaction to its subject, I am determined to publish it for more than one good reason. First of all, this tone is the fashion. Every man who can seems now to be writing his autobiography, and not one of these is justified. Second, the lack of opportunity for Father McCurtin to enter a defence against my remarks gives me a doubtful victory over him, for which I have waited for many years. I have had many masters, but he was the only one whom I determined to master. A vain ambition, no doubt, but really not so foolish as it would first appear. An unimaginative master may work his pupils as wax and succeed in leaving his excellent impression upon them, after which they will assuredly grow into respectable citizens. Give a sheep dog to a childless, wealthy woman and she will nurse it and domesticate it until it has not more of dog left in it than an imbecile pomeranian. Give the same dog to a sheepman; he will put it to work, beat it into energetic life, impose tasks that would convulse pomeranians and embarrass men, and threaten to discard it should it prove a failure. Similarly with the imaginative school master. (Those who were pupils of Father McCurtin will recognise that the dog metaphor is not at all strained; more than one of us were so often referred to as “Puppies” that we readily answered to the name.) So, let the master train the puppy pupil in the basic principles of education; then give him the field and ask a dog's work of him.

Throw to the pupil slabs of Milton or chunks of Dryden. If he cannot comprehend, tell him he is lacking in ordinary intelligence, for all small boys of his time knew these things at the age of two. Then if the pupil has left a spark of self-respect he will beg, borrow or buy the works of Milton or Dryden and read therein so as to rise to the heights of intelligence and knowledge required of a boy of ten or twelve. I should be sorry if this badinage obscured the useful lesson which is contained in the foregoing sentences. That lesson is that by so provocative a form of teaching the boy of initiative will be allowed to discover himself, after having searched for and found and read some of the better works of literature. He will begin to read for the love of reading, not because he is forced to cram in set text-books. Father Mc Curtin may not have adopted such methods in teaching; he might be violently opposed to them and regard my philosophising as erroneous; but, at all events, that is the impression I have of his teaching. And as a pupil I found it encouraging, and as a grown man I look back on it gratefully. Someone may ask what good has it done me; or what have I done because of it. Again, I am forced to introduce the first personal pronoun into the argument; but I do so, I believe, so that it may encourage both pupils and teachers. I distinctly remember determining as a boy to write an essay that would be difficult for even Father McCurtin to criticise adversely. I spent much labour on it, three full days, and presented it unsigned. It was adversely criticised: but it taught me that I had some facility for writing and aroused an ambition to continue. I still have that essay, preserved as affectionately as a mother keeps some relic of her first child's infancy. Now, I have several volumes to my name, and al though they may be regarded in various ways by the discerning and the less discerning public, I am honest in asserting that had it not been for the provocative teachings of Father McCurtin I should never have written a line. Australian writers are few; the Australian is timorous of self-expression with the pen; perhaps, the pupil is dried up by forced study when young; and set text books have made literature as unattractive as Arnold's Latin grammar.

The article on Father McCurtin, which the Editor asked me to write, has not been written, although my ruminations will occupy much space in the magazine. However, it is unneces sary to write an article so as to arouse affectionate memories among his past pupils. Let me tell them that in this year he celebrates fifty years of mem bership in the Society of Jesus, and all will pray that God may let him live to celebrate another jubilee. We need such men as he is; when he left Aus tralia in 1920 there were many who resented his going, who felt that he was more needed in Australia than in Ire land. He returned to us again in 1931, as fresh as ever. He is now in charge of Burke Hall in Melbourne.

Here are some outstanding dates and events in his career. They were sent by the Editor to guide me in writing a biographical article. As they will probably be of more interest to readers than what I have written, I append them. They represent the multifarious activi ties of a long and useful life; con sequently, they speak for themselves.

In 1883, on February 1, he entered the Society. From 1886-8 he studied philosophy at Milltown Park, Dublin, From 1889-95 he was teaching at Xavier, in Melbourne, and in 1891 was Prefect of Studies there. From 1895-8 he studied Theology at Milltown Park, where he was ordained to the Priesthood in 1897. In 1998 he taught at Belvedere, Dublin, and in the following year he was in Belgium for his Third Year. The beginning of the century saw him at teaching work again at Belvedere, 1902-3 were spent at St Patrick's, Mel bourne, and 1903-5 witnessed valuable work at Xavier. Then came his splendid career at St Aloysius' College as Rector (1910-16), during which he resurrected the Old Boys Union and almost trebled the enrolment of pupils. 1914-16 were marked by his efficient services as Catholic representative on the Bursary Board of NSW, when he not only. succeeded in winning due rights for all Catholic Secondary Schools, but also gained such general esteem from his fellow members that they marked his departure from their midst with evident regret. 1917 was spent at Xavier, and 1918-19 at Riverview. In 1920 he re turned to Ireland, where he was occupied in preaching retreats and for a period was Superior of the celebrated Apostolic School at Mungret. From 1926-31 he was Rector of the Sacred Heart College, Limerick, where he rebuilt the Community House and School and decorated the public church. In 1931 he returned to Australia, and in 1932 was appointed to the charge of Burke Hall, Melbourne, where he still flourishes in excellent health.

Ad multos annos, .

ERIS M O'BRIEN

◆ The Aloysian, Sydney, 1938

Obituary

Father Patrick J McCurtin SJ

The following account is taken from the “Advocate”, Melbourne.

An educationalist of high standing in the Jesuit Order, Rev Patrick McCurtin, who did outstanding work in the colleges of his Order in Ireland and Australia, died on Saturday morning in Mt St Evin's Hospital, after an illness of three weeks. His death is a heavy loss to the Society of Jesus, and to educational circles, in which, for more than fifty years, he was a distinguished figure. Of a genial and kindly disposition, his pupils idolised him, and there was deep and poignant sorrow at Kostka Hall, Brighton Beach, when the news of his death was made known.

Born in Tipperary, Ireland, Fr Mc Curtin, who was 73 years, studied for the priesthood in the Jesuit College at Milltown Park, Dublin. As a scholastic, he began teaching at Xavier College, Kew, and in 1886 he was prefect of studies there. His fine work met with well merited recognition, and he was appointed Rector of St Aloysius' Coll ege, Sydney. Later, he was attached to Riverview College, Sydney, as prefect of studies. In 1921, Fr McCurtin returned to Ireland, and in 1922 he was made Rector of the Crescent College, Limerick - a position he filled with eminent success. Returning to Australia in 1930, he was appointed headmaster of Burke Hall, a preparatory school affiliated with Xavier. He did much to place this school on a sound basis. When a second preparatory school in connection with Xavier College was established at Brighton Beach in 1937, the headmastership was conferred upon Fr McCurtin, who held this position up till his death.

Archbishop's Tribute

His Grace Rev Dr Mannix, paid the following graceful tribute to Fr McCurtin:

The prayers of the priests and people are most earnestly requested for the eternal repose of the soul of Fr Mc Curtin. On the day before his death, when I saw him for the last time, he had just received the sad news of the death of his brother in Ireland. He told me that he had been closely attached to his brother, but he took the sad news with resignation and with confidence that everything was right with his brother, who, as he said, had always been a faithful Catholic. Naturally, the news coming to him when he himself was almost exhausted, must have made a deep impression upon him, and perhaps hastened his own death. The two brothers had been closely attached during life, and in death they are not divided. Fr McCurtin is lost to us all: Priests and people have come here in large numbers to testify the esteem in which he was held, and to offer their sympathy to the Jesuit Fathers, who have lost one of the brightest ornaments of their Order in Australia.

The passing of Fr McCurtin naturally brings to our minds that long line - uninterrupted line, I might say - of Irish Jesuits who have come here to work and to labour in Australia. They were great men, many of them, and good men, all of them. They have done in Australia a marvellous work for Christian learning and culture, for re ligion and for God. Now another of them has gone to his reward. Some indeed, of the old ones amongst them are still with us, thanks be to God, and long may they be spared to do and continue the work in which they are engaged. But Fr McCurtin's work is over. He was not the least of the Jesuit Fathers. He came, I believe, from that part of Ireland which gave us an other great Jesuit Father, whose name is remembered in benediction - Fr James O'Dwyer. There was much resemblance between the two, and they have left the stamp and zeal of their own lives and their example and teaching upon the minds and hearts of many of those who are prominent in Catholic life in Melbourne and Australia. Fr McCurtin's work, like that of Fr O'Dwyer's, will remain, His mortal days are ended, but the stamp and seal put on many lives will remain to bear fruit and fructify in Australia, I hope, in the years that are to come.

One of the greatest consolations that the Jesuit Fathers have, looking back upon the great work done by their Order in Australia, is that now young Australian Jesuits are coming to step into the places that are being left vacant, one by one, by the great old pioneers, the Irish Jesuit Fathers, who came to this land. Fr McCurtin had great gifts, and he used them all. Perhaps the one great gift that God gave him was that of being a teacher, not merely a teacher in the ordinary sense, but one who built up the character of the boys committed to his care. I was myself closely associated with him while he was at Burke Hall, and I could not fail to be deeply impressed by the manifest impression that he made upon the boys who were sent to the college. He had the gentlest ways and was always bright and cheerful, and he seemed to radiate happiness wherever he went. While he was gentle and kind, still he was always the master. Side by side with his great gentleness of character was a real robust manliness, and the staunchest of principles that never deserted him. He was a great favourite with the boys, and seemed almost to be one of them, and it was quite evident that he was always seeking to mould their characters and preparing them to be, what I hope they will be, a credit to their Jesuit teachers and to the Church to which they belong. All his life was spent in that work, and his only thought was to serve the Master by moulding the character of the young.

He has been an outstanding success in Australia, as he was in Ireland, and the Jesuit Fathers will find it hard to replace him. We all miss him. We have lost a great friend and a great priest. We can only hand him over to the tender mercies of the God Whom he served so long and so well. In spite of his saintly character, human nature is weak, and maybe there are still some stains upon his soul. We pray to-day, and will pray for many days, that if there be any stain remaining it may be wiped out in the mercy of His Redeemer, Whom he served so faithfully and so affectionately, and Whose living Image he tried to impress upon so many of the young people of Australia. May God have mercy upon his soul and upon the souls of all the faithful departed, and may eternal Light shine upon him.

An Old Aloysian’s Tribute

23 Salisbury Road,
Rose Bay. ii.
23rd July, 1938.

Dear Father Hehir,
Although personally unknown to you, I am writing as the oldest member of the St Aloysius' Old Boys' Union to express the. deep regret I feel with regard to the death of Father McCurtin; and to express my sympathy with the Jesuit Order in his loss.

He endeared himself to everyone that he came in contact with while at the college, and there will be many who will feel his loss deeply.

Yours faithfully,

Arthur Barlow

◆ Mungret Annual, 1937

Obituary

Father Patrick McCurtin SJ

On the 16th July, 1938, Father McCurtin died at Mount St Evin's Hospital, Melboume. Though he had reached the three score years and ten, yet the news of his death came as a shock. His life was so regular, his days so methodically arranged and the triumph of his strong will over ill-health so consistent, that even at 73 years of age one did not regard Father McCurtin as old.

Born in 1865, in the shadow of the Galtee mountains, in the town of Tipperary, he received his early education in Rockwell College. In 1883 he began his novitiate in Milltown Park and completed it next year in Dromore, Philosophy followed at Milltown Park, and in 1888 we find him at Xavier College, beginning a connection with Australia that was to last for thirty-three years. He returned once more to Milltown for. theology, and was ordained in 1896. Tertianship and two years at Belvedere followed, and once more he took up the threads of the work he had begun so fruit fully in Australia. From 1901 till his death, in 1938, with the exception of twelve years in Ireland, Father McCurtin devoted him self to the service of education in Australia,

Father McCurtin's connection with Mungret was brief, 1923-26, but his work there was enduring. His long experience in Australia, his knowledge of the needs of the priesthood gleaned from his own experience in giving retreats and his knowledge of the educational system of that country, were all brought to bear upon the office entrusted to him. No detail that helped towards the advancement of culture, no practice that helped to the building up of character and the acquiring of solid virtue in the young aspirants to the priesthood, was neglected. To build the supernatural on a good natural foundation was his ideal, and, to achieve this, he spared no pains.

No sketch of Father McCurtin's life that did not take into account his work for the church in Australia, would do him justice. As master, as prefect of studies, or as recior, he worked in St Patrick's, Xavier, Riverview, and St Aloysius. All these colleges owe much to the meticulous care. and the sure grasp of essentials that Father McCurtin brought to bear upon their studies.

Nor were his educational activities restricted to these colleges. His expert knowledge and wide grasp of the secondary school system was put at the service of the State when a scheme was being drafted for school registration. In like manner, he helped the various convents and drew up for them a course of studies that facilitated registration when this became obligatory.

The last years of Father McCurtin's life must have been his happiest. He was successively Head Master of Burke Hall and Kotska. Hall. Here he renewed his youth with the generous youth of Australia and formed the young lads as he had formed their fathers and perhaps their grand fathers - years before at Xavier. Just when Father McCurtin seemed set for a century, the call came. The work of “the good and faithful servant” was completed and he entered on his reward.

His Grace, Archbishop Mannix, paid a warm and grateful tribute to Father McCurtin at his Solemn Requiem at Hawthorn:

“Father McCurtin had great gifts and he used them all. Perhaps the one great gift that God gave him was that of being a teacher, not merely a teacher in the ordinary sense, but one who built up the character of the boys committed to his care. I was myself closely associated with him while he was in Burke Hall, and I could not fail to be deeply impressed by the manifest impression that he made upon the boys that were sent to the college. He had the gentlest ways and was always bright and cheerful, and he seemed to radiate happiness wherever he went. All his life was spent in that work and his only thought was to serve the Master by moulding the character of the young”.

May he rest in peace.

◆ The Crescent : Limerick Jesuit Centenary Record 1859-1959

Bonum Certamen ... A Biographical Index of Former Members of the Limerick Jesuit Commnnity

Father Patrick McCurtin (1865-1938)

Was born in the town of Tipperary. He was admitted to the Society in 1883 and ordained at Milltown Park in 1895. Apart from his studies in Ireland, Father McCurtin spent only twelve years of his religious life in this country. He spent his scholastic years in Australia and returned there in 1901 where he was to spend twenty years. He returned to Ireland in 1921 and came as rector to the Crescent in 1926. During his term of office he did much for the progress of the school and greatly improved the church. On the separation of the Australian mission from the Irish Province of the Society in 1931, he elected to finish his days where so much of his best years had been spent. He died in Melbourne 16 July, 1938.

Born: 31 August 1874, Ardfinnan, County Tipperary
Entered: 07 September 1893, St Stanislaus College, Tullabeg, County Offaly
Ordained: 01 August 1909, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final vows: 02 February 1912
Died: 12 May 1954, Milltown Park, Dublin

Early education at Clongowes Wood College SJ

by 1896 at Valkenburg, Netherlands (GER) studying
by 1898 at Enghien, Belgium (CAMP) studying
by 1911 at St Mary’s College, Kent, England (FRA) making Tertianship

◆ Irish Province News
Irish Province News 29th Year No 3 1954
Obituary :
Father Charles Mulcahy
By the death of Father Mulcahy, the Province has lost an excellent Retreat-giver, a much sought guide for young men and one of the best language teachers known to our Colleges.
Born in 1874 at Ardfinnan, Co. Tipperary, he received his early education at Rockwell College, where he fortunately found a master suitable to his bent for modern Languages, including Irish, a subject hardly known to the schools in those days. In 1890 he went to Clongowes. There he was a diligent and successful student. A contemporary describes his first impression as “of an elegant young man, strolling round the cycle-track with Mr. Wrafter and a couple of Higher liners”. A small detail, but not without its significance. Apart from tennis, he had no sportive interests.
He entered the noviceship in 1893, encouraged in his Jesuit vocation by a friend of his family, Father Healy, C.S.Sp., a former Head of Blackrock College. We may, perhaps, say that he was fortunate to have finished his noviceship at a time when the pedagogical outlook did not force every Junior into a University procrustean couch, for he was immediately sent to Philosophy; two years at Valkenburg and one year at Enghien, where the foreign diet gives a flavour to speech, not to be found at home. He returned for the long period of scholastic service common in those days; seven or eight years of unbroken teaching work. All past pupils pay tribute to the excellence of his teaching, and his power to create interest in literature.
After four years at Milltown, and Tertianship at Canterbury under Father de Maumigny, whose spirituality influenced him profoundly, he returned to Milltown, for a brief year as Sub-minister, and Master of Juniors. He taught at the Crescent, 1913 and 1914 when he was appointed Minister and Socius to the Master of Novices and Master of Novices 1918-1919 at Tullabeg. During this period he developed his great talent as choir master. Though not a singer himself, he was a good pianist, and more than one Province choir owed its efficiency to him.
In 1919 he went to Clongowes as Rector and Consultor of the Province. St. Paul is very emphatic on the diversity of gifts. Government, as both profane and religious history shows, is among the rarer talents. It does not appear to have been his particular gift. After three years he was back at the teaching work, first at Mungret, where he was in charge of the Studies, then at Clongowes, part of the time as Spiritual Father. Finally in 1940 he settled down in Milltown, at the work which gave the fullest scope to his talents : Retreat work and spiritual direction of an increasing number of men, who got to know his worth in the Retreats, and would constantly return to consult him.
A prominent Government official pays this tribute to him : “I remember well his first appearance in the chapel at Milltown Park and every time I saw him for a matter of 10 years emphasised the impression that he was essentially a man of God, a man who appeared to walk perpetually in the presence of God. He succeeded in communicating that to his hearers. He was for me the embodiment of Ignatian spirituality. There could be no doubt whatever that he had lived a long life endeavouring to carry out the precepts of the Society as perfectly as possible for him. He carried on, until his health broke down, a personal apostolate with scores of men, particularly I think young men, whom he met for the most part in connection with retreats at Milltown Park. He had a charming sense of humour which kept breaking through the seriousness of his character”.
Similar testimony comes from Mount Anville, for whose Community he worked for many years. They say that he gave the exercises a way that could be understood by the children. And the kindness and sympathy shown them enabled them to open their problems to him readily.
It has been said with truth that the measure of a man's achievement and greatness in any walk of life is the devotion and application to duty which it involves : judged by that criterion Father Mulcahy has left an example which all can envy but few emulate. “I have”, says one in a position to judge, “known him over many years and have treated with him in many different capacities : I have never yet known him to deviate by a hair's breadth from the path of duty or allow the claims of any personal interest to obtrude on those of his office. If indeed there is one of whom it can be said that he gave himself to his work without stint, that man was Father Mulcahy”.
From the noviceship days, he was a keen reader of ascetical books. He could tell one, straight off, the best books in French, German, Italian, English on any point in the spiritual life. Though highly appreciative of general literature, the book shelf in his room became, as the years went on, more and more narrowed down to spiritual books, showing that St. Paul's invitation was a living one for him : “I will shew unto you yet a more excellent way”. And the more excellent way was the “conversation in Heaven”, whose gates advancing years reminded him were ready to open wide : “they that instruct many to justice shall shine as stars for all eternity”. Father Mulcahy had certainly done that for many years of self-sacrificing patience.

◆ James B Stephenson SJ Menologies 1973
Father Charles Mulcahy 1874-1954
Fr Charles Mulcahy was born in Ardfinnan in 1874, and received his early education at Rockwell College and Clongowes.

Entering the Society in 1893, he did his studies abroad at Valkenburg and Enghien. His formation completed, he was appointed Socius to the novices in 1914, and in 1918 was made Master of Novices. The following year he went to Clongowes as Rector. Administration, however, does not seem to have been his strong point, so after three years of office he returned to the classroom, in Mungret and Clongowes.

He was a first class teacher of languages and music. From his noviceship days he was a keen reader of ascetical books, and could recommend straight off the best books in French, German, Italian or English on any point in the spiritual life.

In 1940 he returned to Milltown Park, where he gave himself to retreat work and spiritual direction, his real métier. His excellence in this line is eloquently attested by the constant stream of people of all classes who consulted him in the parlour. He had a special gift for directing young men. “They that instruct many unto justice, shall shine as stars for all eternity”. Fr Mulcahy had certainly done that right up to his death on May 12th 1954.

◆ Interfuse

Interfuse No 27 : May 1983

PORTRAIT FROM THE PAST : CHARLES MULCAHY
Dr Leon Ó Broin
The noted Irish scholar and former. Secretary of the Department of Posts and Telegraphs has graciously contributed this vignette of Fr Mulcahy. The author's laconic title for the piece is “An Old Fraud”: you'll see why.

When you went up to the first floor of the Retreat House in Milltown Park you saw in an alcove before you the room. 15A.where Charlie Mulcahy received visitors. It was a large, high-ceilinged, rather cheerless room, with little in it beyond a table with a raft of books, a typewriter, an armchair, a plain chair, an iron bedstead and a priedieu.. It was there in August 1943 - forty: years ago - I spoke to him first, I had seen him a week or two earlier as he. entered the chapel downstairs to give the opening lecture of a week end retreat. He was 69, but did not look it... He was an “old fraud” he would tell you, for his features were those of a man in his middle years, and his light brown hair was strong and plentiful. His walk gave him away, however; though quick and purposeful he shuffled noticeably. His speech was rather like that, too, it was quick and abbreviated. He repeated himself, but that may have been the teacher's practice of stressing the salient points of a lesson.

I have good reason to remember the first lecture of his I heard, because in it he laid the basis for everything he taught me in the next ten years or so, namely the supreme importance of understanding where all of us stand before God, our essential creaturehood and its obligations, the absurdity of Independent Creature. scribbler I wrote down an outline of his lectures and sent it to him from home, with a note asking him to develop a point that seemed to affect me particularly. His speedy reply was not quite what I expected, but it was thoroughly ad rem. “What you want to help yourself”, he wrote, “is much less thinking, and as much praying as you can manage. You seem to enjoy writing your thoughts. That makes for clarity, but hardly for reality”. Reality for him, as I was - to observe, was to live perpetually in the presence of God. Who could not but notice this when he walked in the garden or along the corridor in the direction of the community chapel? He was a picture of quiet, adoring concentration.

He invited me to come to Milltown “to talk myself out” on this question of reality, and when we met I remember how insistent he was that, in the matter of assent to the truths of religions, I should understand the difference between what was merely notional and what was real. He added that I would benefit from reading Newman on the subject. That visit was the forerunner of many. We became good friends, and his interest extended to my work, my literary interests, my ageing parents, my wife and family. He told me a little about himself, very indirectly though. He had run the whole gamut of Jesuit responsibilities, teaching in various schools, being master of novices, rector in Clongowes and Provincial Consultor; now he was “retired”, his function being “to pray for the Society” (Orat pro Societate), which did not mean, I suspect, that he could not direct an occasional retreat, look after the spiritual interests of a religious community, and conduct a personal apostolate among. young men he had encountered on those enclosed week-ends. These he endearingly referred to as his “toughs” They came to see him for. advice and to hear their confessions, sometimes two or three of them in a row and my own chats had to end abruptly when he would explain ever so courteously, that he had another “tough” waiting for him outside. Among his “toughs” in earlier days, if you can call them such, had been the remarkable Father Willie Doyle; and he always spoke warmly of Father John Sullivan with whom he had lived in community.

A native of Arafinnan, Co. Tipperary, Charlie had gone to Rockwell college where he was fortunate to have a teacher who developed his bent for modern languages, including Irish, a subject hardly known to the schools in those days. In time, I gather, he became one of the best language teachers in Jesuit Colleges. He continued his study of Irish in the Balingeary Gaeltacht of which he had pleasant memories - “It had become in a way a sort of home to me”, where he was able to indulge his love of traditional music. He was a good, good pianist and had considerable success with choirs.

As a Jesuit novice he had spent three years studying philosophy in Valkenburg and Enghien, and did his Tertianship in Canterbury under Father de Maumigry whose spirituality influenced him profoundly. He worried over what was happening in Germany during the war, and has my wife praying for that country ever since. He read German, of course, as well as French and English, but more in depth than in breadth. I imagine his practice being to return the books he liked, in order to savour their quality anew. He had a real feeling for the French language; when I introduced a young friend, whom he found full of “thoughts and tastes”, he felt sure that a bookman like me would approve of trying to break him into a little French.

“France was the country of expression”, he believed, and “a country that possessed a Rene Bazin must have a sane outlook for a young Catholic”. One of the things at which he grieved was that, having read a lot of Bazin, his immediate interests meant that he would have to defer beginning on him again for some time.

He hinted on the important things that were pressing on his time. “I have a young Deacon here for a six-day retreat. He is to be ordained on Sunday next. Say a word of prayer to the Lord for him”. In another letter he said “I have one young man here in Retreat. The one is as occupying as a complete bunch of them. He is gloriously in earnest, God bless him. He has a lovely Cork accent”. So his reading of profane literature dwindled to practically nothing. When now he talked of it at all, it seemed it was some thing he had to make an effort to recall. His stock of books became smaller and smaller. Those he retained had, all of them, an ascetical character; they were what he needed for his own spiritual purposes, and those he proposed to lend to his “toughs” in the hope of promoting theirs. I notice in one of his letters - all of which I kept - that the volumes he lent me included: Meschler, Father Arthur Little, and Saint Francis de Sales, At other times it was books by the Jesuits, Coleridge and Goodier, and Saint Augustine. I would feel the uplift of certain chapters in Coleridge, he assured me, and then went on to ask if I did not think it queer how calmly we talk of an uplift? Why, it means entrance into a new world and not merely a World like what Columbus discovered?

Mentioning Augustine, he would say that there was no need to commend the great African Doctor. “You know my weakness for him. He always touches the soul in that human way of his”. From Francis de Sales he culled reams from his writings on the religious life and on pursuit of perfections and gave me a copy of his transcript. Saint Ignatius was never far away from his thought, of course; retreats and his direction of souls were strictly fashioned by the Spiritual Exercises, That, for instance, was where the obligations of the creature came from; and this, on the discernment of spirits. “Keep joy in prayer and all will be well. If you are spiritually: unhappy, then you may know the enemy is near..in The doubt increases; the soul begins to be restless; it loses its sweetness and spiritual joy. Ignatius says at once, without any reservations, that this alone is a sign that 'the light is untrue”.

He gave me once a Ballade of Distractions that a colleague of his in the Society had strung together. It had done him good, and he felt sure I, too, would find it useful. It's real prayer, is it not?. You remember St. Augustine: Lord, you were with me, but I was not with You. That was the theme of the Ballade it began : Here am I in the chapel in retreat, / Lord, at your hidden glory humbly staring, /my soul, that ought to find its joy complete, / the splending of Your Godhead to be sharing / Has found the effort just a little wearing. And off it's gone, the countryside to view./ Taking, alas, a most terrestrial airing / my thoughts are rambling though I'm here with you.

Going through his letters I find some fine things: In one he says “It was not in dialectics God saved his people”. In another “God will be generous as is His wont. I have not had such a good time of late”, (His health was beginning to break) “but that, too is a gift of God as St. Ignatius tells us”. In another still “I will make special mementoes in the Mass for the musicians (my children: Eimear and Noirin) till their troubles are over. Our Lady, the Great Mother, will guide their hands and their brains”, and, when their examinations were successfully passed, he told Eimear not to forget to thank his heavenly helpers. “How human”, he said, “is the Gospel scene with its pertinent question: ‘Where are the other nine?’” And, reminding me and my wife of an approaching feast, he assumed we had a picture of the Holy Family in the house, that the children would gather a few autumn leaves to adorn it, have a lamp burning before it, and pay some visits to it till the feast was over. That would leave an impression on their minds that would do them good.

The autumn leaves typified his passion for flowers. He planted them in profusion in a garden rockery round the beguiling figure of a petite Virgin and used reproductions of them as bookmarkers.

When my father's days were clearly numbered, his concern for him, my mother, and me was most touching. “You may be sure there were many Masses and many prayers offered for him. I offered Mass myself of course and remembered him in my prayers all the day. May God bless him when the hour comes for bringing him to a better home. It will be, I am sure, a relief rather than anything else. What a grand solemnity there is in the scene with Martha: I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in me although he be dead shall live, and everyone that liveth and believeth in me shall not die for ever. There is no other consolation. May God bless and console yourself”. In his next letter he wrote that “the Lord has been good to the one He has called by shortening his waiting. May he rest in peace. I offered Mass for him this morning You may be sure of much spiritual help from Milltown, I did not get your message till close on 9 last evening. I hope you got my wire. I will offer Mass on Monday for the dead, yourself, and for the old lady who has been left to grieve, not too long in the Mercy of God one would hope, but God understands better than we. Is not our misunderstanding of what He does and why He does it pathetic and childlike? But you will be understanding it all better every day. May God bless you and console you”. He was very anxious about the dear old Granny, fearing that she might be unsettled; and, feeble though he was now, he went with the Rector one day to see her in her little flat. He continued to remember her in his Masses, putting her especially in God's care and guard.

The first sign that his own mortal end was not too far off appeared in his letters. They were suddenly shorter, disjointed, with words misspelt or omitted altogether. He tried to behave normally, insisting to the visitors that they should take the armchair, and, when that courtesy was refused, sitting bolt upright himself on the edge of it. He was an ascetic, of course, his only concession being a very occasional cigarette which he smoked from a holder, and which he laid aside when someone came to see him. But he could read no more, or read only without fully comprehending. It was utterly pathetic and yet somehow significant that, when the end came, all that this erstwhile lover of books had was his rosary beads and a crucifix. When speaking of the enduring patience of Christ he had said that a secret cross was a very precious thing, and that we shouldn't allow the strength of it to evaporate. It was a weakness to be always searching for a confidant, to be always blabbing out our grievances. In this matter he practised what he preached. He never spoke of his infirmities; even when he could hardly speak at all. When I last saw him he was lying awake but silent, his whole body covered in a white powder whose purpose was to mollify the burning irritation of his poor flesh.
God help us all at the end.

◆ The Clongownian, 1954

Obituary

Father Charles Mulcahy SJ

The death occurred on May 12th of Rev. Charles Mulcahy, S.J., Milltown Park, Dublin, a former Rector of Clongowes Wood College. He was aged 80, and from 1942 until failing health in recent year's compelled him to retire, he was on the staff of the Retreat House at Milltown Park, where he gave many retreats to priests and laymen.

He was a son of John Mulcahy, woollen manufacturer, of Ardindan, Co Tip perary, and was educated at Rockwell and Clongowes Wood Colleges. After a distinguished course in the Intermediate, in which he excelled in modern languages, he entered the Society of Jesus in 1893.

He studied philosophy at the German and French houses of the Order at Valkenburg, in Holland, and Enghien, in Belgium, and taught for eight years at Clongowes Wood before beginning his theological studies. A master of considerable ability, he excelled in the teaching of Irish, French, German and Italian, as well as Latin and English. He was ordained at Milltown Park in 1909, and completed his religious training under the well-known spiritual guide, Père René de Maulmigny, at St Mary's College, Canterbury, then conducted by the Fathers of the Paris Province of the Society.

Father Mulcahy was appointed Rector of Clongowes Wood College in 1919, having previously been Assistant Master of Novices, and later Master of Novices at Tullamore. He was Rector of Clongowes for three years, and afterwards Dean of Studies at Mungret College, Limerick. From 1927 to 1931, and again from 1933 to 1941, he taught at Clongowes, and for most of this time he was also Spiritual Director to the Community and boys.

Father Mulcahy was much in demand as. a director and counsellor of souls giving spiritual guidance to very many people in all walks of life, both by letter and in personal interviews in this work he was distinguished for his quiet kindly manner, and for the way in which he could bring his own wide spiritual reading to bear on the problems brought to him.

Father Mulcahy will be remembered gratefully by the many clients whom he helped in this way, as well as by those who at Clongowes and Mungret Colleges, benefited from the unusual teaching gifts which he developed by meticulous devotion to duty as well as by careful reading during the years he spent as a teacher of languages.

He is survived by his brother, Mr. William Mulcahy, Director of Ardinnan Woollen Mills.

◆ The Crescent : Limerick Jesuit Centenary Record 1859-1959

Bonum Certamen ... A Biographical Index of Former Members of the Limerick Jesuit Commnnity

Father Charles Mulcahy (1874-1957)

Born at Ardfinnan, Co Tipperary and educated at Rockwell College and Clongowes, entered the Society in 1893. He pursued his higher studies, at Valkenburg, Enghien and Milltown Park where he was ordained in 1908. He was master here from 1912 to 1914. Unfortunately for the Crescent, he was transferred to Tullabeg as assistant, and later to the important post itself of master of novices. From Tullabeg he was transferred as rector to Clongowes where he relinquished office in 1922. Father Mulcahy felt more at home in a classroom and until 1940 Mungret and then Clongowes benefitted by his matchless pedagogic gifts. He retired from teaching in 1940 and until his death was a member of the Milltown Park community. Here he gave splendid service as retreat director, while many religious communities in Dublin revered him for his ability as a spiritual director.

Born: 01 April 1908, Galway City, County Galway
Entered: 14 September 1927, St Stanislaus College, Tullabeg, County Offaly
Ordained: 31 July 1939, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 03 February 1942, Sacred Heart College SJ, Limerick
Died: 31 August 1983, Milltown Park, Dublin

Rockwell College, Carrigeen, Rockwell College, Co. Tipperary student

◆ Irish Province News

Irish Province News 58th Year No 4 1983

Obituary

Fr Thomas O’Sullivan (1908-1927-1983)

Tommy O'Sullivan entered the noviceship in Tullabeg in 1927, a fortnight later than the main body which entered on 1st September. All those who entered late that year are
gone to Heaven now, and most of the others.
Brother O'Sullivan did not make himself noticeable in the noviceship nor later. He was always quiet and humble and good-humoured. The solid thing was there which made him so useful in Limerick for many years and then in Rathmines.
Being slightly older, he was given a home juniorate with several others instead of university. There he was fortunate to have forming him Fr Fergal McGrath and Fr Alan P Farrell (America). After two years he was sent to Tullabeg for philosophy, He slipping a year ahead of those who entered with him. In Tullabeg he helped to mould the happy life that the new philosophate there became.
Colleges were done in Limerick, theology in Milltown ("shorts', under Frs Fr Joey Canavan, an excellent course), ordination in 1940 in the war, tertianship in Rathfarnham under Fr Henry Keane, then back to Limerick (194 1-71), until age retired him to parish work in Rathmines.
We are meant to be insignes. With him it meant that quiet solidity that makes a college or church the successful apostolate which the Society expects. Heart attacks in his last years were taken in the same quiet way, slightly interrupting his routine of church work. One would altogether take for granted that it was: Come, good and faithful servant, the night the Lord called him Home after another heart attack.

In a letter written by His Grace the Archbishop of Dublin, addressed to Fr Provincial and transmitted to Fr O’Sullivan's community, Milltown Park, Dr Dermot Ryan regretted that he had not been represented at the funeral. He himself had been away. and Archbishop’s House did not become aware of Fr O’Sullivan's death till some days had elapsed. added: “The diocesan clergy knew Father O’Sullivan well. He was very devoted in his attendance at deanery meetings. He will be missed by the priests and people in Rathmines.”
Fr O’Sullivan died on 31st August 1983.

Obituary
Fr Thomas O'Sullivan : continued
† 31st August 1983

To our obituary notice of Fr Thomas O'Sullivan in the October issue of the Province News, we append the following details submitted by his contemporary an tAthair Proinsias O Fionnagáin:

Thomas (he resented deeply the diminutive “Tommy”) O'Sullivan from his earliest days at Tullabeg gave advance notice of that self-effacement which so characterised his scholastic years and priestly life. Yet he was one of the few of the 1927 intake of novices to be admitted to the “vows of devotion” - surely an indication of the esteem he had earned with Fr Martin Maher and the Provincial of the time, Fr John Fahy.
Shortly after his arrival in Rathfarnhan it was discovered that he had not presented Latin in his Leaving Certificate and so was ineligible for admission to the Arts faculty of the NUI. As a result, Fr Fahy decided he should do one year of the home juniorate and then go on to philosophy. But we, his contemporaries, knew that he might have read a most distinguished course at UCD. The present writer recalls that in Fr Maher's Latin classes for second-year novices, Thomas could give a penetratingly good account of the subtleties of Latin syntax. I think he felt passed over when no arrangement was made to allow him to go to College. He never complained but we knew that deep down he felt hurt. He gave a poor account of himself in his philosophy exams.; perhaps his ingrained disposition to self-effacement gave the wrong impression to his examiners. In any event he was appointed to the short course in theology.
When I arrived in Milltown in 1938, Fr Frank Shaw asked me one day, “Aren't you a contemporary of Tom O'Sullivan's?” I agreed. Then Shaw, no mean judge of intellectual ability in a man, remarked, “Well, O'Sullivan is one man at least who is well fit to be in the ‘longs’.”
After his tertianship he was sent to the Crescent where he was to spend so many years. Here, his fellows realised that Thomas was a man gifted beyond the common run, this self-effacing man who shunned the limelight. I wonder how many in the province today, who knew him, are aware that he was a violinist of ability who had won the approval of Fr Arthur Little, a musician of uncommon sensitivity. He was a welcome member of the teaching staff and proved a capable master in Latin, Irish and other subjects. But as the school began to increase towards the middle 1940s he felt less and less at home in the classrooms that were now crowded with tall hefty youth. Bit by bit he eased himself out of the secondary school except for a couple of classes and established himself in the junior school. His credit with the parents of his pupils was simply immense.
Meantime he was being prepared for the really great work of his life in Limerick - the church choir. In 1943. Fr Robert Dillon-Kelly, choirmaster since 1914, was transferred to Galway and Fr Thomas was presented with his baton. The first few years in command must have tested his diplomacy and patience to the limit. In the choir-room he was faced by a formidable array of faithful old-timers, voluble prima donnas and operatically-voiced gentlemen of a more gracious age. Their répertoire, Mercadante et al, was all very well for a vanished generation that wanted their sermons long ... thirty, preferably forty minutes ... and luscious intervals of devotional bombastic music. Thomas had to bring a sense of reality into the choir-room and the organ loft.
He had also to provide a choir for ordinary Benediction services, of which there were very many, and to meet this need he formed a young girls' choir from amongst the sisters of our lads whose voices inclined to break, alas, too soon. Year after year this Crescent girls' choir had an audition on Radio Éireann that won acclaim throughout the country.
The reformed senior choir was meticulously trained to render worthy programmes at the sung Mass on Sundays and the greater feasts. Such was Fr Thomas's devotion to duty as choir master that it can be safely said he was absent for only three weeks out of fifty two: to make his retreat and spend a fort night near his family in Galway
Like the late Fr Peter Troddyn, Thomas was a very well-informed man. Uninvited he never advanced his views on anything. Likewise he never started an argument. If you found yourself arguing with him, then you had already lost.
During my father's last illness in 1944 I had to pay a number of visits home. As often as I returned to Limerick, an apologetic knock at my door told me it was Thomas or Fr McWilliams who had come to express sympathy and promise continued prayers. Thomas was then a young man, Fr McWilliams was into his eighties, but both priests had so much in common: an unobtrusive capacity for Sympathy and an exemplary gift of discretion. It is safe to say that no man living can recall a rash judgment, an uncharitable word, expressed by Fr Thomas.
Like Zachaeus, Thomas was a man of small physical stature ... so was St lgnatius himself ... so also were such celebrities of the Irish province as Fr Albert Power (”the mighty atom”), Fr Patrick Gannon and Thomas's own contemporary, Fr Terry Sheridan. You don't judge a man's worth by his physical stature, as David Lloyd George once said to an elongated nit-wit who referred to him as “the little man”: “In my country (Wales) a man's stature is measured from the chin up”.
Gaeilgeoir dúthrachtach ab ea an tAthair Tomás. I measc sluaite na nGael i bhfaitheas De, faoi bhrat Mhuire, go raibh a anam caomh, cneasta, cróga.