Walter Macken

by Ultan Macken

  Most sincerely,

  Walter

  My father wrote a follow-up letter to Sabina and Peter in July:

  Gort na Ganiv.

  July 21st 1962

  My dear Sabina and Peter,

  Cannot tell you how delighted we are that you are going to be at Wally Óg’s ordination. It fills the cup for us. I’ll look after the Galway end for you, hotel, car, etc., and I will give you all the gen when we meet.

  We are flying into Madrid at about 8.15 p.m. on Thursday the 2nd of August. I don’t know where we will be staying. Wally Óg is looking around for a hotel for us. We have arranged to fly out with Wally Óg on Monday 6th. He wants to get home and see Ireland. He will only be home for a week after the ordination and then will have to depart again, destination unknown for the moment.

  We have all the arrangements made for the mass in Oughterard on the 12th – High Mass at 11.30 and then the reception here in the house afterwards. We’ll have about 80 people, and if the day is fine it will be grand; we can park them all outside and feed them. Anyhow it will be fun. We are going to have great laughs. It’s marvellous that Wally Óg will have 5 relations at his ordination.

  He started getting all the minor orders conferred on him last Wednesday – tonsure, etc. He had a beautiful moustache which he had been nursing for 2 years. It was his only regret having to lose it.

  I cannot tell you how we are looking forward to seeing you both again. This was a great year for us – our 25th wedding anniversary last February and our son a priest in the same year. My mother died in London in January. That was the only sadness. She would have been so pleased.

  All our love,

  See you in Spain,

  Walter

  It was my first time visiting Madrid and my brother’s ordination was fantastic. It was a wonderful experience to be standing in St Michael’s Basilica and watching my brother join almost a hundred other men as they waited to have the hand of the bishop laid on them. When it actually came to the moment, we watched as he moved, knelt in front of the bishop and his hand laid on him. I sensed the presence of the Holy Spirit in that moment.

  The following day we flew back, I think to Shannon, and from there made our way to Galway. There was a lot of preparation to get ready for his big day, Sunday 12 August.

  All the family friends were there and I spent the time taking photographs. Looking at those photographs now, I think my mother looks incredibly sad.

  After his week at home, my brother went to Barcelona and my father wrote to him at the end of August:

  Gort na Ganiv.

  August 28th 1962

  Dear Wall,

  We got your card today. Very pleased. We were beginning to imagine all sorts of things when we hadn’t heard from you. We forget that you are grown up and well able to look after yourself.

  … It is still a bit like a dream that we saw you are ordained, attended your masses, saw you in a cassock, I suppose you get used to it in time. Nothing of note has happened here. I’m trying to work. I find the trouble about a writer’s brain is that it can only think of a certain amount, absorb it, colour it and deliver it. There is no use being impatient with your mind while it is trying to ‘create’ it will only do it in its own good time, and forcing it is no help at all …

  The coloured slides Ultan took came out quite well. If you are ever at home again, you can have a look at them, also most of the snaps he took in Madrid. I will get copies done and send you one or two to see …

  We went to a reception for Cardinal Browne in UCG the day after we left you in Dublin. The Bishop [Michael Brown of Galway] was there and singled me out in a loud voice to say how much he liked ‘The Silent People’. He had got a loan of the page proofs from Canon McCullagh.

  You have all our love,

  Your father

  My father probably started to work on the third historical novel at this stage and in the autumn of 1962, The Quare Fellow was released. My father received terrific reviews. Dilys Powell in The Sunday Times picked him out as the star of the film, in the Daily Mirror, critic Dick Richards said: ‘But the most memorable performance is that of Walter Macken. He is a veteran warder who is sickened by the system of capital punishment. Macken’s honest playing will surely leave many people wondering whether execution may be a worse offence than the original crime.’

  My father received a nice letter from the director of The Quare Fellow:

  17 Denmark Avenue,

  Wimbledon.

  My dear Wally,

  Now that the dear old picture has been exposed in a few countries – and I have been there at the various premieres and showings – the score is clear. You have walked away with the top honours for which I want to thank you – and congratulate you, all at the same time. I might have had some severe disagreements at the time about the omission of various so-called key Behan scenes, but now that the final edition has been shown, it must be said that the impact is more than expected. There are still those who decry the modifications from the original play, and are most vociferous about it.

  The raves about your Regan – in New York, London, Amsterdam, Paris, etc. – are endless. I am sure you have heard of this wonderful result – which seems to make up for some of the discomfiture and pains we underwent during production. Pat McGoohan and Sylvia, too came off well. But it seems to be Wally Macken all the way – and all the others won high praise, also.

  May I take this opportunity to wish you and your family Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and express the hope that I may soon have the privilege once again to work with you. What’s new in the writings? Please let me know what ‘Wally Mackens’ I should add to my bookshelves.

  My special love to both you and Peggy,

  Arthur Dreifus

  My father had a principle he stuck to every year: he never bought or sent Christmas cards and each year he wrote a long detailed letter to his cousin in America, Rita Joyce, looking back over the past year and what had happened to us during the year:

  Gort na Ganiv.

  January 1st 1963

  Dear Rita,

  Very pleased to hear from you and to know you and your mother are well, and we appreciate your good wishes. Actually 1962 was the most successful year of our lives – because our eldest son was ordained a priest in Madrid – and in comparison with that nothing else really matters. I was sure you would have known about this as I had sent a first mass card to you, but obviously you didn’t get it. I’m enclosing a couple now as a memento, so that you can put the young priest in your prayers.

  We celebrated our 25th anniversary in February. My mother who was 78 died in London the previous month and on August 5th my son was ordained – so you can see it was a momentous year for us. We went to Madrid for the ordination. An occasion like that is indescribable – even for me and I have the gift of the gab. The following Sunday August 12th, he sang a Solemn Mass in Oughterard Church and we held a reception in the grounds here afterwards.

  We were praying for a fine day, as the weather was very bad all summer and the Lord smiled on the young priest and gave us a glorious miraculous day of sunshine – so we could feed everyone outside. It was a most happy day. My son stayed 3 days with us and then he had to go back to Barcelona. He will be working there for a year and after that we don’t know where he will be sent …

  Peggy thanks you for the compliments. We remember well our visits with your mother and yourself and Peggy wishes your mother to know that she still has the beautiful rosary beads your mother gave her.

  You see why the other things are not important. I hope you like ‘The Silent People’. I put a lot of work into it. I am now working on the 3rd book of the Trilogy. It will be called ‘The Scorching Wind’ and I will be a happy man when it is finished as I can become a ‘contemporary’ man again.

  ‘The Quare Fellow’ is not a good film. It could have been a sort of good documentary, an anti-capital punishment film but they made a mess of it introducing unnecessary material to ‘imp
rove it’. The Director was not good – he wouldn’t listen to advice from anybody – but I liked my part and carried on despite everything.

  I’ve managed to find a snapshot for you. It’s a bit dark but it’ll give you an idea of what your cousin the priest looks like.

  With my sincere good wishes from us here and in the hope that we will all meet again soon. Life passes so fast. We always seem to be racing after it and failing to catch its tail.

  Most sincerely,

  Walter and family

  One of the family friends who always sent us a Christmas card was the Grace Family from Long Island. It usually had a photograph of all the Grace family. Just after Christmas 1962, Margie Grace wrote to my parents:

  January 15th 1963

  Dear Wally,

  I cannot tell you how happy the news of Walter’s ordination made me. I can only imagine how thrilled you must be. But I know you both deserve this joy. I can still remember when I was trying to encourage you not to get up so early for mass when you had to be up so late at night in the theatre and you said: ‘Sure it’s the only worthwhile thing I do all day.’ How that response thrilled me! And you’ll be embarrassed to know that I’ve told a great many people about it.

  I often wonder how you both are and would love to hear all the news about you. I have heard a great deal about the Opus Dei as a very good friend of mine is very active in it in Lima, Peru.

  Our family gets bigger and older and the pace gets a bit faster every year while I get a little slower, I’m afraid. But we have so much to Thank God for and we are grateful to him for everything. Peter is in South America at the moment but his work takes him to Europe even more these days. However, he is still just as much fun as ever and when he’s home the whole house vibrates.

  I hear that Michael [Peter Grace’s brother Michael was the producer of ‘The King of Friday’s Men’] has bought a house in Dallas, Texas, but I’m not sure if it’s true.

  Charley [another of Peter’s brothers, I think], whom I’m not sure if you know, is happily married to a lovely girl with three children.

  With best wishes to you,

  Affectionately,

  Margie Grace

  My father replied to Margie’s letter:

  Gort na Ganiv

  Jan. 22nd 1963

  Dear Margie,

  It was so pleasant to hear from you and to know that you are all well. I thought you would be pleased at the news of the ordination of our son. It was all very moving – but like all good things in life, it was here and gone in a flash. The only good remark that was relayed to me – by a person who knew me long ago and in whose eyes actors/authors are damned said – ‘How could a fellow like Wally Macken have a son a priest?’ I felt no resentment at this because it just echoes my own feelings and proves conclusively that priests are chosen for themselves – not from their parents.

  We have watched all your children growing up each year in the Christmas card you send and are filled with admiration. What a lovely family – the boys are so big and the girls so beautiful which is only as it should be and Peter and yourself remain unchanged. We often think of your kindness to us and the genuine joy we got from your family and your home.

  We live quietly here beside Lough Corrib – working as hard as ever trying to put dreams on paper and make a living from it. I don’t think I need to tell you how welcome you would be if you drop in on us. Peggy is very well, slowing up as you say. That happens to all of us I’m afraid.

  I’m so pleased to hear about Charley. Yes we met him, the time we were staying in ‘Tullaroon’ and feeling likes millionaires on Mike’s account – although from what I heard, I think that Charley was picking up the tab. He was most charming and we are delighted to hear about his family.

  We haven’t succeeded in getting to the US since. I’ve withdrawn more and more from acting. I do a part in a film now and again, when they are made in the new studios in Dublin. It’s a break from the constant torture of thinking, which is the main part and the hardest part of the old writing profession.

  It doesn’t embarrass me when you quote me on the daily mass. It’s still my belief, only more so now. For my part I always tell about the rosary in Grace’s house after dinner and everyone is handed a rosary beads, whatever religion they possess. I still have a wonderful picture of all of us kneeling down saying the rosary and the cowboy from Texas who trained Peter’s horses – a most charming man, sitting on a couch with the rosary beads in his hands. So it’s nice that we tell good stories about each other.

  My best wishes to Peter and all the family. Peggy sends you her love and to say how pleased she was to hear from you. I hope we all meet again someday – if not here, let’s hope in Heaven.

  Yours most sincerely,

  Wally Macken

  18

  THE SCORCHING WIND COMPLETED

  During the early part of 1963, my father was hard at work completing his research for The Scorching Wind. He went to talk to people who had lived through the War of Independence and through the Civil War. Among the people he met was Tom Barry in Cork and my mother described the meeting: ‘They were describing in great detail, the ambushes they staged and the fighting they conducted against the British army, the Black and Tans and the RIC. There was one quiet man sitting beside Tom Barry and I discovered that this quiet unassuming man was actually an assassin. He talked quite calmly about killing people.’ My mother noticed that although he was a small man, he had a huge right hand – his shooting hand.

  They spent some time with Tom Maguire who was related to our family. He lived in Cross and when my father met him, he was in his seventies. As the commandant of the South Mayo Brigade of the IRA, he had been in charge when they ambushed a Black and Tan lorry at Carrowkennedy on the Westport to Leenane Road. As he wanted my father to experience what it was like to stage an ambush, he walked with him over the mountain and down towards Carrowkennedy and then they walked back over the mountain with some of the men who had accompanied him on the original ambush. My father found the mountain climbing tough and was out of breath, but he noticed not one of the veteran IRA men were out of breath at all.

  There is no doubt that that particular research was important, but all his life he had been talking to men and women who lived through the Rising and the Civil War. Mrs O’Connor, a close family friend, told us how one of her brothers was in the IRA, and when during the Civil War her future husband came calling to her house to see her, leading a troop of the Free State soldiers, her brother, who was on the republican side, had to hide.

  There were also conversations in Roundstone with Bulmer Hobson every week during the 1950s. Hobson had been a member of the IRB and had tried to stop the 1916 Rising. My father also spoke to Geraldine Dillon, married to Professor Tom Dillon and mother of the writer Eilís Dillon. Tom Dillon was the chemistry professor in University College Galway and had manufactured explosives for the IRA during the revolution, while Geraldine Dillon was a sister of Joseph Mary Plunkett, one of the executed 1916 leaders.

  My father was a very fair man and tackling such a controversial period as 1916 to 1922 posed challenges. Although he was a republican at heart and tended to support Fianna Fáil and Éamon de Valera, he was determined that the story would be told from both the Free State and the republican side.

  As he was working away at this third book, regular life continued. He heard from Lovat Dickson in March:

  Macmillan & Co. Ltd.

  8th March 1963

  Dear Walter,

  We have reprinted ‘Rain on the Wind’ and I am sending a copy to you under separate cover. It is an offset from the last edition, so there is really no difference, but I thought you would like to have it for the bibliographical information on the back of the title page.

  How are you? It is a long time since I have heard from you, and I wonder have I in some way unconsciously offended you? I hope not. My mind turns towards you and Galway and the spring makes me think of our dapping adventures together.
/>   My best wishes to you and Peggy,

  Yours ever,

  Rache Lovat Dickson

  In the summer of 1963, I went off to Bilbao in Spain where I was placed on a student work experience programme with a company called Union Espanola de Explosivos. My job was to work in the laboratory primarily testing various chemicals. This was the summer that my father was writing The Scorching Wind. He made some mention of it in his letters to me that summer:

  Nothing much has happened here. The old routine is still in action. I have finished Chapter 7 so I am still a long way from THE END. I miss the shouting matches very much. I cannot shout at Peggy now either when both of you are gone because that wouldn’t be fair. Anyhow it’s all good practice for the inevitable time when you pull up stakes and depart for good.

  Having spent the best part of nine months in Barcelona, my brother was now based in London and was completing the journalism course that he had begun in Pamplona. He was now studying for his MA in media studies. He also studied in Oxford but his main job was working as a priest for the Opus Dei university residences in London. My father wrote to him on 2 August:

  Seeing that next Sunday is the anniversary of your first year as a priest has set me thinking a lot about you. A man has dreams about his sons, what they will grow up to be. Even when they are small, and he is picking them up when they fall, he is wondering what will this little fellow grow up to be. I think most people would prefer their sons to be in the world. This is a form of vanity. They want to project themselves into the world when they are no longer there – to leave a mark – so in reality they are not thinking at all of their children but of themselves (a case in point is Mrs Dickson who, when she heard Jonathan was friendly some years ago with Opus Dei members was terrified in case he might have a vocation and that she would be left without grandchildren).