Born: 15 January 1915, Daly’s Terrace, Rathfarnham, Dublin City County Dublin
Entered: 30 September 1933, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 30 July 1947, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1950, Sacred Heart College SJ, Limerick
Died: 24 January 2009, Cherryfield Lodge, Dublin
Part of the Milltown Park, Dublin community at the time of death.
Older brother of Oliver P MacMahon - LEFT 1948
Born at Holles Street.
Father, Thomas, was an Executive Officer in thee Civil Service. Mother, Elizabeth (Hickey).
Older of two boys with two sisters.
Early education was at a Convent school and then at age 8 he went to Synge Street (1923-1933)
◆ Jesuits in Ireland
https://www.jesuit.ie/news/memories-of-father-tom/
Memories of Father Tom
Nine days after his 94th birthday Tom McMahon died peacefully on Saturday 24 January in Cherryfield, which he never tired of praising for the happiness and hope he enjoyed
there. Not all his memories died with him. Apart from innumerable poems about his friends and enthusiasms, he has left a video clip (now on YouTube – also viewable on Jesuit.ie) taken from the DVD about the closing of the Sacred Heart Church in Limerick, and an interview about his life, made three years ago, which you can read below. His Limerick friends came in strength to his funeral, and he would have loved the sound of Cecilian voices filling the Milltown chapel.
The Society still has a kick in it !
An Interview with Tom Mc Mahon, Sept 3rd, 2005, reported in Interfuse, Autumn 2005
You were born way back in 1915, at the very beginning of it. You’re almost 91, and you must have wonderful memories. Tell me some of your early memories of the time before school, at school, and before you entered the Society.
Well, I was only an infant when we went to live in Rathfarnham and, of course, Rathfarnham was completely different then. We had little cottages with half doors on them, and we had a forge in the middle of the village. And there was Prescotts, where the trams originally went round by the Protestant church, and then back; that was the tram station. And there was another one down in Terenure, opposite the Catholic Church. But I remember during the troubles in 1922, the Barracks that was at the corner there was blown up. But before that I remember we went to school in the Presentation Convent in Terenure. Myself and my older sister were walking down to school when we were stopped in horror by the Dodder Bridge, because there was a whole line of barbed wire across it. There were soldiers, so we turned back and hurried home. We were frightened out of our lives. I remember, for instance, the taking of a barracks on the South Circular Road. You could hear the shots in Rathfarnham. And one single shot I saw fired during the Civil War was when the Free Staters were leaving the Barracks. They walked up through the village and one fellow pulled out his revolver and fired a shot, because the Free Staters were coming up. But actually they had had a bolt hole dug through the Castle wall to escape through the Castle gardens and out that way, but they eventually went up through the village and away off, so that was the one shot I actually saw being fired.
You were only six then– you’ve a good memory to go back that far.
Yes, and, of course, Rathfarnham was completely open in those days. There were fields all the way across to the road where the steam tram used to go. And the tram went away off up to Blessington. The Castle was terra incognita, but you saw the Juniors coming out. We thought they were young priests, you know, and we would see them on Sundays, coming out for their walk. And they used to sing in the Parish Church. We thought they were magnificent, which they were. I learned one of the pieces of music I have loved all my life – it’s by one of the classical writers – I can’t think of the name just now but I was fascinated by it.
So did you go from Rathfarnham to school in Synge Street?
Oh, yes, yes. I went to Synge Street after that, and I used to cycle. And I remember we had to go to Catechism on Sunday morning, and I decided I’d cycle the whole way in without putting my hands on the handle bars – of course, on Sunday mornings there wasn’t much traffic but I did it. You wouldn’t do it now!!
You had Religious Education on Sundays, and you spent your primary and secondary school days in Synge Street?
Uncle of Father Joe Veale, a marvellous man. I remember one of the Brothers asking me what I was thinking of being. I said I was going to be a civil servant. I was too shy about telling him the other ideas I had.
What gave you the idea of the Jesuits? Had you some association with them?
Well, first of all, they lived opposite us – I could see into the grounds there in Rathfarnham Castle. Secondly the fellow sharing a bench with me at school was Terry Mc Parland, who became a novice with the Jesuits, though he died after eleven months there. He was a marvellous fellow – quite shy and retiring – but he really had something, for he managed to gather seven of us for a retreat the day after our Leaving Cert. In those days Bishop Byrne (I think it was he.) wouldn’t allow CBS boys to go on Jesuit retreats, because, he said, the Jesuits were taking all the vocations, which, of course, wasn’t true. So we couldn’t go until we had left school. Literally, the day after our Leaving Cert we went out on retreat. And who should we have for our retreat but Fr. Neary!
Ah, the man who later was to be your Master of Novices.
Yeah, and I can remember him well on that retreat saying (mimics) “Prevent, we beseech thee, O Lord, all our actions...” And then when we got to the novitiate, he came as Novice Master after Fr. Coyne. There he was again saying “Prevent, we beseech thee, O Lord...” (laughs). So that was my introduction to the Society.
And then, of course, you went to Rathfarnham, I presume.
That’s right – back to home territory. Interestingly enough, my father got a stroke and died during our Tertianship in the Castle. And I could see the blind pulled down in his window from where I was in the Castle. And, very kindly, the Instructor of Tertians allowed me to go home once a month to see him. And my father died at Easter, so I never got round to doing the statutory mission that the tertians went on, because he died just at that time. Charlie Heron was to have been with me in Milltown. I don’t know what Charlie did, but I was left off it because of my father’s death.
You have an extraordinary memory for so many things. So you went through the ordinary formation up to tertianship. And, after tertianship, where were you assigned?
Straight down to the Crescent.
But you didn’t spend all your life in the Crescent, did you?
No, but a great deal of it – the best part of 40 years. From 1949 (I think) till 1963, and then I was sent up to Belvedere, where I spent a year putting them on their feet (laughs). And, after that, I went to Galway for 11 years. I had quite an interesting time there. I remember I used to bring the boys out for their Irish fortnight to the Islands. But, once, I had to supply for one of the priests there. I don’t know what the islanders made of my Irish. However I got through. One very interesting thing happened when I was there. Do you remember there were two men – British soldiers – that rowed across the Atlantic in what I think they called a ‘dory’. And I met them when they came across because the islanders couldn’t talk to them in English, and I welcomed them onto the island. The next day the island was swarming with newspaper fellows from all over the world and there was a book written about it afterwards and I was mentioned in it. “Fr McMann” they called me (laughs)! So I was in Galway for 11 years, and then from 1975 on I was in the Crescent until I came a cropper!
Well, you don’t look to me as if you came a cropper! However, your time in the Crescent – boy, that was a long time!
Well, I had very interesting pupils: I had Cormac McNamara, who became a big man in Irish medical circles. He represented Ireland on the Continent and he also was, apparently, responsible for joining the two sections of the medical people here in Ireland. I don’t understand the mechanics of it, but he got them together into one. He was a very famous medical man who often appeared on TV. Brian O’Leary was another pupil, and there were quite a number of Jesuits. I can’t think of their names immediately, but they all went through my hands. We had great times together.
And, of course, if I remember correctly, you were kinda famous with the Cecilian society.
Oh yes. I ran with them for many years. And, if my memory serves me rightly, between the boys in the Crescent and the Cecilians, I think I did 29 shows. We used to do three a year at the beginning – a pantomime at Christmas and an autumn musical and an Easter musical. The result was that I never got a real holiday, because the Christmas holidays were banjaxed by the show, and the Easter holidays the same.
And were these present pupils and past pupils?
No, no. There were no present pupils in it. Really the idea was that it would be past pupils, recently left, and their sisters, and their girlfriends, and it was a very young group of very happy people.
It must have been a great time; you could use your acting ability.
Oh no, no. I didn’t do that at all. I did the singing and I did up to 21 hours of singing a week. I used to sing with the sopranos, the tenors, the altos and the bass! You see a lot of them didn’t know much about music, but they had an ear, and if you sang it at them, they’d pick it up! I literally sang for 21 hours a week!!
My goodness! And did you also play an instrument like the piano?
Oh I did, but I didn’t play it in the Cecilians. We had an orchestra and I was the conductor. It had 24 instruments in it. It was quite a thing! It was begun before the Cecilians as a separate entity, and then they all joined up. They were all amateurs at the beginning, but we got a teacher from the musical school, and he insisted on trade union regulations, and people had to be paid, which, of course, put an enormous burden on the Cecilians. They had a huge bill every year – and we’d all been amateurs before that. And then I had the church choir, and this is their last year. They’ll end up next June, because the Church (Sacred Heart Church, Limerick) is shutting down. I wrote a farewell thing to them ....... (goes and gets paper) There it is. I’ll read it for you. It’s entitled: SING, SING, CHORUS OF ANGELS, LORD, POUR GRACES AND BLESSINGS ON YE!
So have you sent it to them?
Oh yes I have – it’s what you might call a swansong.
And, please God, you’ll be able to be with them for their final session there. One thing, I think, readers of Interfuse would be interested in hearing is what you feel about the different changes that have take place in the Society and in the Province?
Well, I’m afraid I take an abstract and abstracted view of the whole thing. I feel it’s not up to me to either suggest or remedy anything. I leave that to the younger generation – and I think that’s fair enough too.
You’re comfortable with things.
Ah, look here, I’m in heaven here. I don’t know how I deserved it. Everything is so beautifully laid on. I believe it was Paddy Doyle who had the idea first of all, but, whoever it was, was inspired. You couldn’t ask for a nicer place or a nicer set of people, nurses and community and everything – absolutely marvelous.
So you still maintain that you don’t have to take care of yourself, as you said to me once, because THEY take care of you.
Yes, they take care of me – more care than I could possibly offer myself. You certainly are a great advertisement for Cherryfield.
And, of course, I have a little – what would you call it? – business here. I do teaching of English and my first pupil was Darota – a great little soul – a Pole, and then I got a Chinese lady, who’s the wife of the gardener here, and two hours with her every Saturday which was pretty hefty, and then I got another Pole – Stasik – the short for Stanislaus in Polish. There’s a bit of information for you!
So you do that as a kind of sideline?
Yes, a sideline.
You’re keeping up your extra-curricular activities.
Yes. And do you know? I find now I have time for reading that I never had before. I’ve been reading Palgrave’s Golden Treasury for many many years back, but now I get through half an hour of it every night, or maybe three quarters of an hour. And then I have the Oxford Book of Quotations, on which I spend half an hour, and I do my main reading from nine until midnight and, at 5 to midnight I say Compline. And then, as people say, ‘so to bed’.
That’s a very good day there. Apart from what you’ve said, which includes a lot of encouraging words for the brethren, if you were to sum up your last words for this interview, what would you say?
Well, I’d say this. That I suppose, like my own generation, I began to feel that – ‘ah the spirit has gone out of the province and the Society’ and so on, and then you begin to read what they‘re doing, and you think, ‘My God, there’s life in the old boy still.’ You see, ignorance is part of it. You just don’t hear what’s going on, and then you find to your surprise and delight that there’s a lot of good things going on – a lot of them. You know its like saying that young people don’t go to Mass anymore. But there’s a lot of them that do – there’s a lot of them go to Confession, and so on. But the Society has a kick in it...
And that’s a very encouraging word, particularly for us who work in the field of communications. Now with AMDG and Update – not to mention Interfuse – we aim to share those things so that people may know what’s going on ...
Yes, well take heart! An old fellow like me had his eyes opened when I poked around and saw what was going on – even by accident. I found out but it was good to know it, ‘cos otherwise I’d be a little bit soured in old age, which is a horrible thing to be. (laughs)
Well, you certainly haven’t been. God bless you, and thanks very much.
◆ Interfuse
Interfuse No 139 : Easter 2009
Obituary
Fr Thomas (Tom/Thos) MacMahon (1915-2009)
15th January 1915: Born in Dublin
Early education in Presentation, Terenure, and CBS Synge Street
30th September 1933: Entered the Society at Emo
15 October 1935: First Vows at Emo
1935 - 1938: Rathfarnham - Studied Arts at UCD
1938 - 1942: Tullabeg - Studied Philosophy
1942 - 1944: Clongowes - Teacher
1944 - 1948: Milltown Park - Studied Theology
30th July 1947: Ordained at Milltown Park
1948 - 1949: Tertianship at Rathfarnham
1949 - 1962: Crescent College Limerick -
2nd February 1950: Final Vows
1949 - 1960: Assistant Prefect of Studies.
1960 - 1962: Prefect of Studies in Crescent
1962 - 1963: Belvedere College - Teacher
1963 - 1975: St. Ignatius College Galway - Teacher
1975 - 2006: Sacred Heart Church, Limerick
1975 - 1991: Assisted in the Church; Subminister; Assistant Prefect of Theatre
1989 - 1991: Spiritual Father
1991 - 1992: Minister
1992 - 1997: Subminister; Choirmaster; Director Cecilians Musical Society
1997 - 2003: Subminister; Assisted in Church; Choirmaster; Assistant Director of Sodality BVM & St. Joseph
2000 - 2002: Director of the Church Shop
2002 - 2009: Cherryfield Lodge -Prayed for Church and Society
2006-2009: He was a member of Milltown Park community .
24th January 2009: Died at Cherryfield Lodge, Dublin.
Todd Morrissey writes:
Tom MacManon, who died at Cherryfield Lodge on 24 January 2009, aged 94 years, informed the Provincial some years previously that he had never been happier. “I'm in heaven here”, he told an interviewer in 2005, “you couldn't ask for a nicer place or a nicer set of people, nurses and community and everything - marvellous”. (cf. Interfuse 125, Autumn 2005). He radiated happiness and cheerfulness.
Tom was born on 15 January 1915, and grew up in Rathfarnham, when it was a village almost surrounded by fields, and the means of travel was by foot, bicycle, horse and trap/cart, or tram. The castle was unknown territory to him, but he was familiar with the “young priests” going for a walk on Sundays and singing in the parish church. He and his older sister walked to school at the Presentation Convent, Terenure; and later he cycled to the Christian Brothers' secondary school at Synge Street. After his Leaving Certificate he, and some others from Synge Street, attended a retreat at Rathfarnham under Fr John Neary. Subsequently, he was to have Fr Neary as novice master. He entered the Society at Emo on 30 September 1933, took his vows on 1 October 1935, and thereafter followed the usual course of training in Rathfarnham (for Arts degree), Tullabeg, regency (at Clongowes), and theology in Milltown Park. He was ordained in 1947, and returned to Rathfarnham for tertianship
He served in Crescent College, Limerick, from 1949-1962: teaching Irish and Technical Drawing, and acting as assistant to the prefect of studies until 196 From 1960-1962 he had a less than successful spell as prefect of studies. The position did not suit his temperament. He was a cheerful man but also very precise, even rigid. The cheerful, human side, so prominent in other circumstances and in later years, was overshadowed by the other aspects when it came to administering discipline as prefect of studies. After Limerick, he spent a year at Belvedere, eleven years in Galway, and then came back to Limerick, where he remained attached to the Sacred Heart Church community from 1975 to 2002. In 2002 he arrived at Cherryfield.
From the start of his second term in Limerick he was assistant in the church, and, in addition to his functions in the community, was assistant prefect of the theatre. This last brought him into work which he greatly enjoyed, and of which he had experience from his earlier years at the Crescent, namely, being involved in the preparation of various musical performances. Between the boys and the Cecilians, he recalled being involved in some 29 shows. Early on, there used to be a pantomime at Christmas, and an autumn and Easter musical. Tom, with his fondness for precision and thoroughness, worked hard to achieve excellence. The Cecilians, indeed, were known for the high quality of their performances. As a result, he seldom got a break during the Christmas and Easter vacations. He conducted the Cecilian orchestra of 24 instruments, and the Sacred Heart Church Choir, and did up to 21 hours of singing each week. Many of the participants did not read music, but they had an ear and could manage if he sang the material for them, so he used to sing with the sopranos, the tenors, the altos and the bass!
Among his other gifts, Tom was a 'carpenter'. There was not a room in the community house that did not have a chair, table, wardrobe, drawer or door that had not been mended or touched up by him. He could not bear to be idle, and, in the process, saved the house much expense. So marked was this, that Dick Coyne was moved to uncharacteristic versification:
Our Tom is no stranger to pain
If in anything there can be gain,
For to save a few bob He'll do any job
And paint it again and again.
Tom filled his day to the end. Interviewed three years before his death, he rejoiced that he now had more time for reading than ever before. He had always enjoyed Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Poetry, and in his final years he read it for half an hour, or three quarters, each evening. He followed this with the Oxford Book of Quotations for half an hour, and then his main reading from nine until midnight, and at 5 to midnight he said Compline. I was honoured to be part of the “main reading”. Time and again he told me about a book of mine that he had read. In addition to this tight nightly programme, he taught English during the day to two Polish and a Chinese lady. And then there were the numerous Limericks and other verse, which took up his time and found expression in province publications. To mark the closure of the Sacred Heart Church and the end of his much loved choir, he wrote a song with the long title “Sing, Sing, Chorus of Angels, Lord, Pour Graces and Blessings on Ye”. Six of the lines might well have been written for Tom himself:
Now that you start this last great final year,
Be glad of heart and shed no useless tear.
But think of all the graces you have won
Now that your final course is nearly run.
If next September you'll not meet again,
Then end this session with a great AMEN
Tom's “Amen” came after days of decline and difficulty. His Limerick friends came in strength, together with his fellow Jesuits, to his funeral to give thanks for his life and his companionship. Doubtless, he joyfully conducted and sang along in spirit with the Cecilian and Sacred Heart Choir voices that filled the Milltown chapel.
