Born: 01 November 1919, Dublin City, County Dublin
Entered: 07 September 1939, St Mary's, Emo, County Laois
Ordained: 31 July 1953, Milltown Park, Dublin
Final Vows: 02 February 1956, Clongowes Wood College SJ
Died: 26 May 2000, Mater Hospital Dublin
Part of the Belvedere College SJ, Dublin community at the time of death.
◆ Fr Francis Finegan : Admissions 1859-1948 - Studied 1st year Engineering at UCD before entry
◆ Interfuse
Interfuse No 105 : Special Edition 2000
Obituary
Fr Gerard (Gerry) Spillane (1919-2000)
1st. Nov. 1919: Born in Dublin
1931 - 1938 Christian Brothers' O' Connell Schools, Dublin - Leaving and Matric.
1938 - 1939: UCD for a half-year, studying Engineering.
7th Sept. 1939: Entered the Society at Emo.
8th Sept. 1941: First Vows at Emo.
1941 - 1944: Rathfarnham-studying Arts at UCD.
1944 - 1947: Tullabeg- studying Philosophy.
1947 - 1950: Clongowes- Teacher; Prefect; Clongowes Certificate in Education.
1950 - 1954: Milltown Park- Theology
31st July 1953: Ordained at Milltown Park.
1954 - 1955: Tertianship at Rathfarnham.
1955 - 1962: Clongowes- Teacher, Higher Line Prefect
1962 - 2000: Belvedere- Teacher; Games; Vice-Rector. Since 1988 he has served as Health Prefect; Chaplain St. Monica's Nursing Home; Sacristan; Guestmaster.
From March 1999, Fr. Spillane's health was in decline. He was admitted to the Mater Hospital and was diagnosed to be suffering from cancer in July of that year. Since then, he spent several periods receiving special nursing care in Cherryfield Lodge, after which he would be well enough to return to Belvedere. He was again admitted to Cherryfield Lodge in March, but was not confined to bed and until shortly before his death he was able to go for walks around the grounds. He died peacefully on 26th May 2000 at the age of 80.
Joe Dargan writes ...
Behind the simple facts of the Curriculum Vitae given above there was a life of faithful commitment and service which was the heart and soul of Gerry. He touched the lives of many people who valued his support and judgement and recognised that his influence on their lives was deep and personal. Fr Gerry was above all else a Religious and Priest. His life was centred on the Eucharist. Through it he became an act of worship of God. The witness of his life spoke volumes. The quiet impact he made on people was shown by the numbers and variety of people who attended his funeral.
As a teacher in Clongowes and Belvedere he dedicated himself to the hidden, constant and grinding work of the classroom as well as forming boys according to the values of Jesus Christ. When his close friend, Fr. Tom Scully, died in 1968 at the age of 46 Gerry became chaplain and mentor of the Catholic Housing Aid Society which provides accommodation for the aged poor as well as newly weds. At the time of his death another flat complex was near completion.
In 1988 Gerry retired from teaching. He became Chaplain to St. Monica's Nursing Home. His care of the sick and dying was unstinting. He would sit for hours with a dying patient, just being present offering support and prayer. At his death the patients of St. Monica's asked that the funeral from Gardiner Street to Glasnevin cemetery would pass and stop at St. Monica's.
Gerry is greatly missed by the members of the Belvedere Community. His was a constant presence and made everyone feel welcome. One of his late colleagues wrote this letter to the community at the time of his death.
"I regret that I cannot attend the funeral of Fr. Gerry Spillane this morning. Gerry is in my prayers. I send my sincere condolences to his family and the community. Gerry was already an established and hugely respected member of the staff of Belvedere when I arrived in 1965. I well remember that he made me feel very welcome and was kind and helpful to me as I settled in to life in Belvedere. We struck up a nice bond of friendship as we chatted on the corridor. I was struck from our first meeting by his transparent decency. I never heard him raise his voice to any boy - nor did I ever hear him speak badly of any boy. He had a great respect for our students and they had huge respect for him.
I was always aware of his love for all sports. He seemed to believe that the real value of sport was in contributing to the good of the team, rather than seeking personal glory. I feel that Gerry was very much at home in Belvedere. He knew Belvedere and its community very well and was most generous in giving his time and energy for their good.
I believe that Gerry lived his vocation fully every day of his life. I feel privileged to have known him as friend and colleague over 30 years. Please convey my deepest sympathies to his family and members of the community.
Sincerely,
John Brown."
May he rest in the Peace of Christ,
Joseph Dargan SJ
◆ The Belvederian, Dublin, 2000
Obituary
Father Gerry Spillane SJ
Gerry Spillane was born on 1 November 1919, one of three brothers, a north Dubliner, from the district around Drumcondra and Glasnevin which - as he liked to point out - produced so many Jesuits around those years, mostly, like himself, pupils of the Christian Brothers at O'Connell's (for whom he always retained great regard). He had in a high degree the virtues typical of his background: straightforwardness, conscientiousness, great human decency and loyalty to the traditional values he had inherited at home and in school.
Having started an engineering degree at UCD, he soon abandoned it to follow what he had come to recognize as his true vocation and he entered the Jesuit novitiate at Emo, Co Laois, in September 1939, in lean times just as the Second World War was breaking out. He was a few months short of his 20th birthday.
He followed an entirely traditional course of Jesuit formation, mostly during the war-years and their aftermath; after Emo, juniorate in Rathfarnham Castle, while studying for the BA at UCD, philosophy in Tullabeg, Co Offaly, three years as a teacher and prefect in Clongowes and then theology in Milltown Park. Following ordination on 31 July 1953 by Archbishop John Charles McQuaid, there was a fourth year of theology, and finally tertianship back in Rathfarnham.
He had hoped to go on the newly-opened Irish Jesuit mission to Zambia (known in those pre-independence days as Northern Rhodesia) but was sent instead to teach in Clongowes. It was not a posting which greatly appealed to him. Quite apart from the thwarting of his missionary desires, boarding school life in the early fifties was austere and relations between pupils and staff were formal and relatively remote.
Within a year, Gerry was appointed Higher Line Prefect, which meant that, in place of teaching, he was responsible for the discipline and good order of the school as a whole and of the most senior pupils - the Higher Line - in particular. His sense of duty and his scrupulous anxiety to ensure the highest standards of behaviour in the school probably had the effect of concealing his enormous humanity from those in his charge (his formation had partly concealed it even from himself) and only the more perceptive among them descried it.
1962 marked a watershed in his life: it was the year he was transferred to Belvedere, in the wide-ranging “reshuffle” of Jesuit assignments made at that time by the American Jesuit plenipotentiary sent by Father General to visit the Irish Province. This change brought him back to his north Dublin roots and set him to tasks which were more congenial than the role of Higher Line Prefect, faithfully though he had discharged that office. He was to spend his remaining thirty-eight years in the college - until 1988 as a member of the staff, thereafter, until his health failed, as chaplain to a nearby nursing home.
Gerry taught mathematics and his specialty was the “matric” class at the top of the school. His teaching had all the hallmarks of the man himself: solid, faithful, meticulously and painstakingly prepared. In the first years, he also taught religion. But 1962 was another, deeper watershed, not only for him but for priests of his generation and the church they served. In October of that year the Second Vatican Council began. It was to transform the landscape and seemed to render the theological studies Gerry had undertaken with such careful fidelity suddenly irrelevant. Like others, he lost confidence and found it difficult to master the new insights so prodigally unleashed in those years. After a short time, he stopped teaching religion and never gave a retreat again.
He had come to Belvedere as replacement for Tom O'Callaghan, sent to Limerick the year Gerry arrived. He inherited not only Tom's classes but also his teams and, for the next nineteen years, his name became synonymous with Junior Cup rugby in the college. Tom - regarded by Tony O'Reilly as the best coach he ever had anywhere - had ended a long sequence of semi-final near-misses through the fifties by winning in 1960 and 1961 and had failed only narrowly to make it three-in-a-row with a talented team the following year. Gerry Spillane, with less natural flair, was to maintain Belvedere's high standards at this level throughout his long term in charge.
But he was dogged by every kind of misfortune in the Cup itself and, despite reaching five finals, he never succeeded in winning the trophy. One year, there was the loss of key players through freak injuries between a drawn match and a delayed replay against Blackrock (delayed, as he would explain to you, against his will); defeat through a last-minute try and touchline conversion at the hands of Pres Bray another year; a comeback from 3-14 down to 13-14 against Blackrock finally thwarted in the closing minutes, with 'Rock on the ropes, by the referee's failure to play advantage, a third year. “What do you have to do?” he wondered aloud on the night of his last final in 1979, when Conor Hickey's team had lost by only a single score - once again to Blackrock. It was hard to find an answer.
Gerry's own tension and nervousness on big match days was apt to communicate itself to his young teams and may have played a part in their undoing. But there is no doubt that he made a huge contribution to the welfare of the game in Belvedere and he did much to develop the school's rugby talent in his time. What he lacked in flair he made up for by dogged, methodical study of the game, which helped to make him the perceptive coach he was.
It was typical of him that he looked after equipment - balls, pumps and the rest - with scrupulous care, preferring to keep them in his own room rather than entrust them to anyone else. There was no waste, no needless damage or loss, no lavish expenditure of any kind. That was how he conducted his entire life. (Instances of venality among the clergy and the abuse of the Mass-card system by some of them was one of his well known conversational whipping-boys). His whole approach was somehow epitomized in the vision of him on so many winter afternoons setting off on his bicycle at the end of a full day's class (he didn't drive), already middle-aged, three or four rugby balls laced together and hung from the handle-bars, for another carefully prepared practice in Jones's Road.
He expected of his players the same high standards of application and attention to detail he set for himself and he helped to pass on these standards to his successors.
His preparatory work in the earlier years must surely be given some of the credit for the memorable Senior Cup successes of 1968, 1971 and 1972, under Gerry Brangan, Paddy Lavery and Jim Moran. Needless to say, he would never claim such credit for himself - he shunned the limelight and took a dim view of coaches who were less self-effacing, whether colleagues at schools level or those on the national stage. There were certain bêtes noires in particular, but they cannot be named here!
After his retirement from coaching in 1981 - he was by then 62 and had been fit enough to referee until shortly before - he retained a close interest in the school's fortunes. Whatever rueful reflections it may have inspired in him, he greatly rejoiced at the ending of the long drought in 1994 and the two further Junior Cup successes of the nineties. He may be forgiven if he found the victories over Blackrock, at whose hands he had so often tasted bitter disappointment, especially sweet.
He had much better fortune as a coach on the athletics track and his sprinters, hurdlers and relay teams won several Leinster and All-Ireland championships over the years. Even here, there were, of course, occasional disasters', as he would have said himself - his sprinters misplaced by a negligent judge on the tape, recalcitrant parents, long meetings in the parlour, to little avail, and so on. Gerry had a certain expectation that reality would disappoint him and, although he loved to win, he probably found losing fitted better into his view of the world.
He also had success coaching cricket in Belvedere, somewhat to the surprise of those who had known his apparent disapproval of it in Clongowes. One of his junior teams famously ran up such a big score (a currently very prominent Jesuit playing a starring role) that his opponents refused to bat and conceded the game in high dudgeon. Gerry's hyper-caution in this instance was punished by - horror of horrors - having the incident reported in the newspapers. This he would certainly have regarded as “Disastrous in the extreme”! He had been a gifted tennis player in his youth, but he didn't talk about that. He was somewhat less private about his support for Manchester United, whom he followed loyally, if at times a little despairingly, until the good times came at last - happily he lived long enough to see them reach their present heights, even though he would have found adjustment to such a flood of good fortune quite hard to cope with.
When he retired from teaching in 1988 - by then he was beginning to find classes harder to control (and the milder sobriquet “sausage” for troublesome boys was giving way with growing frequency to somewhat harsher terms) - he suffered a minor crisis. For someone so unstintingly devoted to duty and so averse to relaxation or self indulgence of any kind, not working seemed close to not being. He was a life-long Pioneer and he didn't smoke. He wasn't a reader and he lacked cultural interests. Well-intentioned (or occasionally mildly mischievous) efforts by colleagues in the community to remedy such defects by luring him to a concert or a play were apt to founder on Gerry's imperviousness to the delights of coloratura cadenzas or what he regarded as the unintelligible, unfunny fantasies of the stage and screen. He found holidays a penance and was glad of an excuse not to take them. An invitation to join some of the community on a picnic outing to the Dublin mountains one St Stephen's Day was met by the puzzled - and, of course, unanswerable - enquiry, “What's the purpose?” Loyalty made him accept occasional invitations to class reunions of former pupils of both Clongowes and Belvedere - so many of whom had, at worst, sneaking respect for him, while many more felt genuine affection - but it was against the grain and, having made a brief appearance, he would be gone.
With such a temperament, reinforced by the rigidities of his training in the thirties and forties, retirement from the work he had been doing all his life was very difficult. But with time and care the crisis passed. In due course, and with real success, he undertook chaplaincy to the nursing home run by the Irish Sisters of Charity, St Monica's, across Mountjoy Square in Belvedere Place. Although he had spent so much of his life in the classroom, Gerry had always been very much a priest. His pastoral instincts expressed themselves in his care for his family, in his work with Fr Scully Flats (Tom Scully had been his colleague in the Belvedere community), and in many other ways, most of them known only to himself and those for whom he worked. His recent, harrowing experience of personal weakness helped to bring some of his deep humanity more visibly to the surface. He greatly admired the dedication of the Sisters and his gentleness and compassion and zeal as a priest found a new outlet in his ministry to the sick and dying old ladies in his care in St Monica's.
His significance in the Jesuit community grew steadily over the last fifteen or twenty years of his life. He had lived through the changes in community brought about by the Council and survived them. His official role for much of the last period of his life was that of guestmaster (or, as he half-jokingly preferred to insist, eschewing the appearance of self-importance through use of the official title, “distributor of rooms”) and he was a warmly welcoming presence for the many visiting Jesuits, from Ireland and abroad, who came each year to stay in Belvedere.
But his profile in the house far transcended any formal function - he was also, at different times, vice-rector, prefect of health, and sacristan. His warmth and capacity for humour, his lack of self-regard, the simplicity of his personal life, his courtesy and graciousness, his obvious rectitude and integrity, all these and something else, a certain enduring youthfulness of spirit, despite being old-fashioned in so many ways, something irreducible which was just “Spillane”, gave him unique stature and he became, for far more reasons than the length of time he had spent there, 'father of the house, loved and respected, the very heart of his community.
Cautious and conservative by instinct and training as he was (he never, for example, wore anything but clerical black), he genuinely enjoyed being teased and taken for what he emphatically was not. The sheer absurdity of having it suggested to him that he was a crypto-charismatic, a “banner man” who, beneath the sober surface, was really into “raising and praising”, greatly tickled his fancy and no one saw the ludicrousness of it more keenly than himself. Some of the things that made us - and him - laugh most were stories he told about himself, usually with a hint of the absurd lurking not far away, Thus, he took pleasure in recounting how he had responded to an earnest American lady who, on learning that he was in Belvedere, asked him expectantly how the Jesuits now viewed their famous past pupil, James Joyce (of whom Gerry would, on principle as well as by disinclination, almost certainly have read not a single line): “As a bowsy!”
He enjoyed telling us, too, of the times when he had been mistaken for the then Church of Ireland Archbishop of Dublin, Dr Henry McAdoo, to whom he bore more than a passing resemblance. One lady, who had insisted that, despite his denials, he must be Dr McAdoo, had forced him to walk away from the bus-stop where he was standing and seek alternative means of transport. Someone else had taken him for 'the Abbot of Mellifont and he had had to flee then too! Another topic we liked to draw him out on was the terse one - or two - line letters he had written in his time in response to parents whom he regarded as unduly interfering or presuming to tell him how to train - or, much worse, pick - his rugby teams. Such Spillane rebuttals would have invited no further dialogue on the recipient's part and he richly enjoyed our detailed analysis of the merits of his literary style!
In July 1999, when he was nearly 80, after being in obvious decline for some months, he was admitted to the Mater Hospital and diagnosed as having cancer. The progress of the disease was quite slow and, after periods of convalescence in Cherryfield Lodge, the Jesuit nursing home beside Milltown Park, he was able to return to Belvedere. His lack of energy distressed him and - consistent with the gentle pessimism which was part of his make-up - he could always find some reason for a measure of frustration, some minor “disaster” to lament. But the prevailing note was of patient resignation in the face of illness and the mystery of life and death, great gratitude for what the nursing staff in the Mater or Cherryfield Lodge were doing for him, and deep, characteristically undemonstrative faith.
In March of the present year, Gerry returned to Cherryfield, where he died on 26 May, halfway through his 81st year, predeceased by his brothers. May that slightly taut smile, worn so often in life, relax now in joy and surprise as he beholds the unclouded glory of God.
◆ The Clongownian, 2000
Obituary
Father Gerard Spillane SJ
Fr Spillane was teacher and Third Line Prefect for three years 1947-50, while preparing for the priesthood. Later, he returned to teach and then become Higher Line Prefect in 1955,
remaining until 1962. He was to spend the rest of his life in Belvedere College and died, aged 80, on 26 May 200. The following is a slightly edited extract from the obituary which recently appeared in “The Belvederian”.
Following ordination, Fr Gerry Spillane had hoped to go on the newly-opened Irish Jesuit mission to Zambia (known in those pre-independence days as Northern Rhodesia) but was sent instead to teach in Clongowes. It was not a posting which greatly appealed to him. Quite apart from the thwarting of his missionary desires, boarding school life in the early fifties was austere and relations between pupils and staff were formal and relatively remote.
Within a year, he was appointed Higher Line Prefect, which meant that, in place of teaching, he was responsible for the discipline and good order of the school as a whole and of the most senior pupils - the Higher Line - in particular. His sense of duty and his scrupulous anxiety to ensure the highest standards of behaviour in the school probably had the effect of concealing his enormous humanity from those in his charge (his formation had partly concealed it even from himself) and only the more perceptive among them descried it.
1962 marked a watershed in his life: it was the year he was transferred to Belvedere, in the wide-ranging reshuffle of Jesuit assignments made at that time by the American Jesuit plenipotentiary sent by Father General to visit the Irish Province. This change brought him back to his north Dublin roots and set him to tasks which were more congenial than the role of Higher Line Prefect, faithfully though he had discharged that office. He was to spend his remaining thirty-eight years in the college - until 1988 as a member of the staff, thereafter, until his health failed, as chaplain to a nearby nursing home.
