Born: 06 August 1923, Edinburgh, Midlothian, Scotland
Entered: 24 September 1973, Manresa House, Dollymount, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1985, Coláiste Iognáid, Galway
Died: 11 March 2002, St Vincent’s Hospital, Dublin

Part of the Croftwood, Cherry Orchard, Dublin community at Cherryfield Lodge, Dublin at the time of death.

Educated at De La Salle College, Dundalk, County Louth

Lived and worked at the Morning Star Hostel, North Brunswick Street, Dublin

by 1981 at Lahore Pakistan (MISS PAK) working

◆ Interfuse

Interfuse No 112 : Special Edition 2002

Obituary
Br William (Bill) McGoldrick (1923-2002)

6th Aug. 1923: Born in Edinburgh
Early education at De La Salle, Dundalk
Worked as a grocery assistant in Dundalk until 1952. Also worked in a general store in Muff, Co. Donegal.
He was employed by Maypole Dairy, London. Later joined Marks & Spencer in Essex for twelve years.
He was a member of the Legion of Mary.
It was while he was at the Morning Star Hostel that the possibility of joining the Jesuits surfaced.
24th Sept, 1973: Entered the Society at Manresa House, Dublin
3rd April 1976: First Vows at Manresa House
1976 - 1977: Betagh House - Minister
1977 - 1980: St. Ignatius Galway - Infirmarian; Sacristan
1980 - 1983: University House, Lahore, Pakistan - Minister
1983 - 1989: Galway - Sacristan; Infirmarian; Assistant in House
1983 - 1984: Tertianship at Tullabeg
2nd Feb. 1985: Final Vows in Galway
1989 - 2002: Cherry Orchard
1989 - 1990: Minister; Community Development
1990 - 2000: Minister; Health Prefect; Community Devel.
2000 - 2002: Residing in Cherryfield Lodge
11th March 2002: Died in St. Vincent's Hospital, Dublin.

Bill was admitted to Cherryfield in April 2000. He remained in reasonably good health until December 2001. He was admitted to St. Vincent's Hospital with a kidney infection. He returned to Cherryfield Lodge on 16 January 2002, but his general condition was much weaker and he was re-admitted to hospital on 20th January, suffering from severe respiratory distress. Bill's condition deteriorated and he died peacefully in St. Vincent's Hospital on 11 March 2002.

Bill Toner writes....
As I write this I am looking at a photograph of Bill given to me by Bill's sister, Mary. Bill is in a white coat, standing at the counter of a grocery store. Behind him is a notice reading, New Zealand Butter 3s/2d., and a multitude of tins arranged in a series of tall pyramids. Bill has the expression of a man you would not trifle with. The picture was taken somewhere in London, in one of the branches of Maypole dairies where he worked in the 1950s.

Bill had a varied life. His father worked for Maypole dairies before him, and was sent to work in Edinburgh, where Bill was born. Later his father was moved to the branch in Dundalk, where Mary and the younger children were born. Bill was educated in the local De La Salle School. Bill liked to recall when, in answer to a question, he told the class he had three brothers and a sister and, because the teacher had not heard of Mary's arrival, was slapped for telling lies. Bill went to work in a variety of jobs in Dundalk, mostly in shops. While working in a butcher's shop he had an unfortunate argument with a colleague about a meat knife, which led to an injury to his finger, so severe that two joints were eventually amputated. Bill worked for a while in a shop belonging to a Mr. Corr, who was the grandfather of the Corr's pop group family. The early death of his brother Sean, whom he was very close to, upset him so much that he wanted to leave Dundalk, and he answered an ad for a job in Muff, Co. Donegal. The shop was one of the old-fashioned general stores which did everything from serving drink to undertaking, and Bill stayed there for many years.

Bill was active in the Legion of Mary, and this seems to have been a principal motive in going to live and work in England. He worked in a variety of shops in London, and eventually went to Marks and Spencer in Ilford, where he worked in stores and security for about 10 years. Eventually, around 1970, he returned to Dublin to work full-time in the Legion's Morning Star hostel, where someone suggested to him that he should join the Society, which he did at the age of 50.

I only came to know Bill well when I went to Croftwood Park. Bill was already well established there having arrived at the time of the move from No.73 to No.25. Bill settled in very well. His varied life experiences and a rather liberal streak meant that nothing shocked or surprised him, and he was very non-judgmental about the behaviour of some of his more colourful neighbours. This meant that he was rarely lonely, as many came to him to talk over problems or just to chat and share a fag. Bill admitted that he had smoked since the age of ten, and although this was to catch up with him in the end, it broke a lot of barriers in a place like Cherry Orchard, where smoking is endemic.

Bill was a natural home-maker. With only limited apostolic opportunities in the area, particularly as his health and mobility declined, Bill saw one of his principal duties as making No.25 a homely and welcoming place. He was always on hand to see off members of the Community on their travels, and to welcome them home and offer to make a cup of tea. He loved to chat, and had a fund of anecdotes from his many different jobs, both inside and outside the Society. He was always a man to bury the hatchet, but he had marked some of the burial spots well, and liked to trot out a few favourite "hurts' he had suffered along the way.

Order and routine were important to Bill, so he was a very valuable anchor man in the community, ensuring that there was some order in the day, that Mass and meals were regular, and that birthdays were remembered. He was a careful housekeeper, and would have regarded it as a personal failure if something like sugar or toilet paper ran out (which it never did). When he began to go to Cherryfield for brief annual 'overhauls', he would return to Croftwood appalled to find that we were on our last tea-bag and there was no ice-cream in the fridge. Although there was no doubt that he held us all in the community in the highest esteem in regard to such things as writing articles or running meetings, he never regarded us as really competent to wash a milk jug or close the fridge door properly.

Those who knew Bill only in later years might think of him as rather frail, but in his prime he was physically very strong. One of his occasional pastimes was arm-wrestling, and in Pakistan he built up quite a reputation and was often challenged by the locals. Apparently he always won. In Croftwood he confined himself mainly to playing chess, particularly with a neighbour, Eddie Keating, who liked to call in for a game in the evenings. Bill also followed football and liked to watch it on T.V., and as a Dundalk fan he enjoyed an off the pitch rivalry with Gerry O'Hanlon who favoured St. Pats. From his London days Bill followed Spurs, but they gave him little joy in recent years.

Bill was very good to the local children, but when they were really wearisome I would sometime send Bill out to deal with them, as an ultimate sanction. In his early days in Croftwood two small boys used to call each day to the door and Bill would give them a biscuit. One day they came but he had no biscuits. So as they went out the gate the two little boys picked up stones and threw them at him. Bill used to tell this story as a kind of parable, but it did not stop him giving the occasional sweet. One Halloween he decided to give out mini chocolate bars instead of apples. Word seemed to spread to the furthest reaches of Cherry Orchard until eventually we were eaten out of house and home by large gangs of masked children. Bill taught many of the local children sign language for the deaf, a skill he had picked up in his Legion days. I cannot recall a single community Mass where Bill did not pray for the children in the street.

Bill's spirituality was deep in his bones, in the way you might expect of a lifelong member of the Legion of Mary, But in many ways he wore it very lightly and was never over-pious or preachy. From time to time he ran prayer or rosary groups in the house, but he usually shared his spirituality in a quiet way, When he chatted to local people he would often end up giving them a pair of rosary beads or a leaflet about John Sullivan.

Bill was immensely happy being a Jesuit, and clearly considered it a great grace that came out of the blue relatively late in his life. He had great affection for his fellow-Jesuits, and never seemed to forget anyone he had ever lived with, whether in the novitiate, or Temple Villas, or Galway, or Pakistan or Cherryfield Lodge. He was very devoted to his family, and was particularly close to his sister Mary, who, along with her three daughters and son, was a frequent visitor to Croftwood.

Bill was sadly missed in Croftwood, by neighbours as well as by his Community, when he moved to Cherryfield. He had time for people. It is sobering to wonder if those of us who dash around the place 'doing good' will be remembered with half as much affection. May Bill's generous and gentle soul find joy and fellowship at the heavenly table of the Lord.

Born: 19 August 1943, Lally Road, Ballyfermot, Dublin City, County Dublin
Entered: 10 May 1964, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Final Vows: 31 May 1979, Milltown Park, Dublin
Died: 04 May 1982, Dublin

Part of Coláiste Iognáid community, Galway at time of his death.

◆ Irish Province News
Irish Province News 57th Year No 3 1983
Obituary

Br Vincent Robinson (1943-1964-1982)

My first memory of Vincent has him in a white apron wheeling a barrow full of turf along the bottom corridor in Emo: sturdy, composed, with bright and fun-loving eyes. When he entered the noviciate in Emo in 1964 he was already qualified as a gas-fitter/plumber with a London City and Guilds Intermediate and Final certificate. He made his first vows in the noviciate in 1966 and stayed on there till 1969: he subsequently had spells in Manresa, Milltown Park (for two different periods), Betagh House, Tullabeg (Tertianship). Belvedere and Galway. During most of that time he worked mainly but not exclusively (he was a man of many skills) as a plumber, servicing the demands of the particular house he was in or available to the Province at large: for some of it he did further studies at the College of Technology in Bolton street (obtaining his technician's certificate there); also some teaching in the same college. He took his final vows in May 1979; towards the end of that same year he became ill and was in and out of health, with periods of great distress, until his death this year, three years after those vows, also in the month of May. He was thirty-eight when he died.
A man of many skills and talents - to do with hands, with heart, and with head. And so the bare facts above indicate little of the great richness and vitality of his life. Vinny was an excellent craftsman and worker, who did the job not just competently and well, but with flair. This artistic side of his craftsmanship was given rein most freely in his work with silver and bronze. He took a delight in this work: I remember well in Milltown, the '70s, the relish with which he would discuss possible suitable titles for the four bronze shields which now hang on the wall outside the Milltown refectory. His skill and artistry were expressed in other ways too: in poetry, in music, in his soccer-playing and coaching. In these, as in so many other areas of his life, he demonstrated a competence, a seriousness of application and a genuine inspiration and imagination which were characteristic, and went deep. It meant that he did things well, but never in a pedestrian way: that he respected quality wherever he found it, and was dissatisfied with anything that was shoddy. He was the opposite of boring or censorious in this pursuit of excellence: a real sense of both fun and compassion ensured this.
The sense of fun was simple in the kind of surprising way that showed how deep and real it was. The joking and companionship of the lads he played within the Pioneer Soccer Club, the sing songs and yarns, the pleasure in a bit of cake, some sweets, a mineral, the calling by for a chat, the weekly cup of coffee with his mother in Bewley’s, the leg-pulling, the colloquialisms and inimitable gestures and turns of phrase: there was a simple joy in life at the heart of Vinny which made it a delight to know him. He loved the theatre, and was an acute and appreciative critic whose particular expertise lay in assessing the staging of a production: and one of my last memories of him shows that sense of fun in evidence precisely in a theatrical setting. We were at the production of The Pirates of Penzance in the Olympia after Christmas this year: Vinny had just been in hospital and was to return there before long. He loved the show, and at one particular point, as a contraption descended from the ceiling with one of the cast on it, he exploded with enjoyment and laughter to such an extent that the tears rolled down his cheeks. For minutes afterwards he laughed on: and, in as often happens on such occasions, the people all around were affected too, faces lighting up, laughing at and with him. To me it's a lovely image of the feel for life which he radiated to the many friends. from different walks of life who were so graced by his company. Not that Vinny was always laughing:. or that he was an effortlessly outgoing positive sort of person. He knew too much of struggle and conflict for this to be so, and the sense of fun and life were real precisely because they came from someone who at heart was deeply serious, and also quite shy. The effervescent front which he sometimes presented to the world did not conceal this side of Vinny from those who knew him, least of all from himself. He knew what it was to be confused, to be angry, to feel alienated, to question himself. In particular within the Society, which he loved so much, and with fellow Jesuits, for whom he had such great affection, there was nonetheless the very real difficulty of attempting to live the Brother's vocation at a time of great change: integration in this area was not easy; there was always struggle going on. Much of this was due to objective factors: but Vinny was quite aware too that his own diffidence contributed to the problem. Similarly with regard to those both inside and outside the Society whom he knew and liked well the path to intimacy was not easy: he was very sensitive, and did not find it obvious to accept that others were so pleased to be with him and to share his life. I think too that his keen intelligence, his questioning of life, his great integrity and honesty, his own strong views on many subjects were not always easy for him to live with: he mistrusted any kind of superficiality or fashion for its own sake, and sometimes this left him feeling a lack of sympathy for other positions and people which belied his more characteristic compassion. The richness and goodness of Vinny's life then were far from automatic: the great thing was that with all his complexity he did in fact come across as having a very simple love of life and people, and so many who came into contact with him sensed this, sensed that his shyness was not the last word, and responded to him with affection and gratitude. He enriched and warmed the lives of so many. He was a loving son and brother in his own family, a great friend, a most amiable companion: and his own human weaknesses, in this context, were simply a most reassuring touchstone of the reality of his love to those who were privileged enough to enjoy it.
Vinny's life then was humanly very rich: he himself however would have found such an assessment rather inadequate, perhaps beside, and certainly ' missing, the point. God was very much at the centre of his life: the ideals of the Jesuit vocation as a Brother nourished him throughout. He valued prayer, read copiously about it, practised it, treasured his relationship with the Lord. He valued deeply the often hidden life of service which he understood to be at the heart of his vocation: he was very proud to be a Brother in the Society. He lived out his vows to the utmost, conscious right to the end, and especially in the suffering of his final illness which he bore so courageously, that he was fulfilling the promise which he had made in Emo in 1966 to place himself under the standard of Christ's cross if that was the Father's plan for him. Such a strong and authentic faith was already rich in the hundredfold of God's love in this life: it is a great consolation and inspiration to those who now miss him so much - his mother Josephine, sister Maura (a nun with the Little Sisters of the Poor in France), three brothers Noel, Paddy and George, all his relations, fellow-Jesuits, many friends. We may have great hope that Vincent now enjoys the fulness of God’s love: the words of St Irenaeus seem very apt in his respect - “The glory of God is man fully alive and it is the life of man to see God”.
I’m left with a host of memories of Vinny: two stand out. One is of the emaciated figure, who had suffered so much, just days before he died, able still to smile for friends or nurses in the midst of his pain. The other, stronger, is of an exuberant, gleeful Vinny, just having scored a goal on the soccer pitch, fist raised in playful triumph, delighting in the joy of the moment, whooping exultantly to the rest of us - “No problem for this kid here!”. May he rest in peace.
Gerry O'Hanlon SJ

The Mountjoy square Pioneer Club devoted to Vincent almost a whole issue (dated 16th May) of their newsletter. In it Joe MacNamara wrote the following appreciation, slightly adapted and shortened here :
On Tuesday, 4th May, the Pioneer Club lost one of its best-loved members, Vincent Robinson. Vincent joined the club some eleven years ago, and since then contributed much not only on the committees and on the playing-fields, but generally with the jovial atmosphere which his presence brought. For Vincent, or better known to most as Robbo, was one of the characters of the club and of its football scene. For whatever he did, alone or in the midst of a group, he brought an air of lightheartedness which always went down well. He often gave a 'terrible slagging', but he also got a fair share himself!
Vincent joined the club as a player for our football teams, and played regularly for the Second team, mainly in defence. In tackling he was very strong. As the priest said at his funeral Mass, he was known to the team as the roving full back. It was very true. Vincent loved to go forward and have a go at scoring a goal. He did score now and again, and when he did, you could guarantee hearing how great a goal it was for weeks on end. He urged his team-mates on by his gentle jokes and by comments that brought the best out of them. Robbo knew the game: he had studied coaching, passed his tests, and in pre-season training made full use of what he had learned, passing it on to the players, particularly the newcomers, thus increasing their skills. He played right up the beginning of last season, and the Second team's first three games before leaving for Galway. All present at the first match will remember his goal. He kicked home a 25-yard free, so becoming the top scorer. He was thrilled over it.
At committee meetings he thought deeply on each matter and gave his view in a manner which showed this. He had to have advance notice of the agenda, so that he could study all aspects of the topic. Vincent was always looking to the future, and so he spoke about his 'visions'. One of these was the strengthening of the senior teams over the years. As it was hard to get Pioneers to play for the club, Vincent came up with the idea of catching them young, bringing them up along and then introducing them at senior level. His idea was a schoolboy team, to start at under-17 : under-18 level. Having got approval to enter a team in the schoolboy league at under-18 level, Vincent went on a search for players, as the club itself had none. : He attended schoolboy tournaments and spent his spare time watching school matches; he approached the teams, telling them about the club and its facilities, enticing them to join. As the 1980-81 season began, after his three month search for players, Pioneers were able to field a schoolboy side. The work put in by Vincent was tremendous. He himself looked after the team in the early days, but then other pressures forced him to hand over the management to others. At first the team did not achieve the best results, but most of the players were young enough for the same team again last season. With their year's experience they did well and as this was being. written were just one win away from the title. The club has reaped the benefit of those 'visions' that Vincent had. The great pity is that he passed away just a couple of weeks before the club achieved its first major honour in over eleven years, fulfilling his dream. On the to evening of the day of Vincent's death, the featured in youths were in action in his native Ballyfermot, where they recorded their biggest victory ever. When they returned to the club, news of Vincent's death had just come. Vincent was interested, not just in the football, but in the club as a whole. This can be seen by the very impressive papers he drew up for last year's club seminar. He put a lot of thought into the topic of better communications in the club, and had ideas on a change-around in structure and accommodation. At the seminar it was mainly Vincent's ideas that were discussed. All present agreed that these should be implemented in order to bring the members closer together.
It was at the funeral Mass that most members learned that they had known only a part of Vincent. He was a full-fledged plumber, having passed his London Guilds exams before he entered the Society of Jesus. He was also a silversmith, with his own registered mark, and designed various pennants and trophies. He once made the trophy for the Young Player of the Year, also a special cross and chains for the winners of the ladies' indoor football. (Another writer adds : that he was also a very useful painter, decorator and carpenter. He kept the football-room ‘in good nick'. It was typical of the man that when the room needed painting he got in there and painted it instead of talking about it.]
He had other talents. He was always having a “bash” at poetry and he was a “dab hand” on the guitar. He appeared on a number of shows; and the footballers who went on the Easter trips to Galway (1980, 1981) will never forget the songs he sang along with the rest of the lads. Those two weekends were great. Again it was Vincent who arranged it all: the rooms in the “Jes” and the food. Last year he even got a minibus to take our group out the Galway coast road, Everything had a story for Vincent: he loved telling stories, Passing a building or other place he would tell you a little story about it, going back into history. The way he told them would make anyone believe him, but I am sure some were just made up on the spur of the moment.
Vincent gave up the society of his many friends in his native Dublin and moved to Galway so that another Brother in the College there could go on the missions to Zambia. It was this unselfishness that one had to admire in him. One will always have memories of his vow-day: the joy on his face was really marvellous.

◆ The Belvederian, Dublin, 1982

Obituary

Brother Vincent Robinson SJ

Vinny came to live and work in Belvedere towards the end of his short life, (1943--1982). He had joined the Society of Jesus in 1964, already qualified as a gas-fitter and plumber, and took vows as a Brother in 1966. In the years that followed he lived in several different communities of the Society, servicing the houses of the Irish Province in his capacity as a plumber. He also did further study and eventually teaching in the College of Technology in Bolton Street.

These rather bare facts indicate little of the great richness and vitality of Vinny's life. He was an extremely talented person: skilled craftsman, artist in silver and bronze, poet, musician, gifted soccer player and coach, in all these areas he showed a faithful application and genuine flair which were characteristic of him in all other areas too. He did things well, but never in a pedestrian way: and he respected quality wherever he found it, dissatisfied with anything that was shoddy. He was the opposite of boring or censorious in this pursuit of excellence: he had a huge sense of fun and life which he radiated to the many friends from different walks of life who were so graced by his company, Not that he was an effortlessly outgoing sort of person: he knew too much of struggle and conflict for this to be so, and beneath the effervescent front which he sometimes presented to the world was quite a shy man. But he did love life and people, and others usually sensed that the shyness was not the last word, and responded to him with affection and gratitude. He enriched and warmed the lives of so many.

Vinny had just one year in Belvedere, 1980–81, when he was already suffering from the illness which would soon enough kill him. I like what was said about him as a soccer coach to the boys during that brief period: apparently, in the course of the year he won over some rather disgruntled, alienated young men to the point whereby the end of the season they were eating out of his hand. This would not be difficult to visualize for those who knew Vinny; his consummate professionalism, controlled enthusiasm, sense of humour, imagination, absolute fairness and great regard for the underdog, all these would indeed have been difficult to resist. And Vinny too by the end of that year had learned not to resist Belvedere either: he liked it there, made some good friends among community, staff and boys, and was sorry to be on his way again so soon.

His life then was humanly very rich: for Vinny himself however such a description would have fallen flat, would have missed the point. God was at the centre of his life, the ideals of the Jesuit vocation as a Brother nourished him throughout. He valued prayer, he valued the often hidden life of service that he understood to be at the heart of the Brother's vocation: and he lived out his religious Vows to the utmost, conscious right to the end, and especially in the suffering that his final illness entailed, that he was fulfilling the promise which he had made in Emo in 1966 to place his life under the standard of Christ's cross. The remark of St. Irenaeus is suitable: “The glory of God is man fully alive: and it is the life of man to see God”.

This strong faith is a great consolation to those who now mourn him: his mother, sister, three brothers, relations, fellow-Jesuits, his many other friends. It means that we're invited in the light of Christ's resurrection to hope in Vinny's new presence among us: and the memory of the unique beauty of his too-short life is a great encouragement to us to join with Vincent in anchoring our hope in the immense love of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Gerry O'Hanlon SJ