EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the first of a two-part series paying tribute to the late Father Dermot Tighe. Part two will run in Wednesday’s Great Bend Tribune.
On October 1, 1954, Dermot Tighe stepped on the SS America in Cohb harbor, County Cork, Ireland. It would be natural for him to be anxious about where his life was heading. And that feeling of uncertainty was most certainly shared with the five other fellow Irish priests who likewise agreed to shepherd the flock in the middle of nowhere. Cohb harbor had its own historical significance – it was the departure point for over two million other Irish who immigrated to North America during the potato famine. It was also the final port of call for the Titanic.
But the challenges that awaited that 24 year old were very modest compared to those he had already overcome. He was, after all, the youngest of 10. Born in Strokestown in County Roscommon on August 4, 1930. Historians note Strokestown was hit hard by the potato famine, and in 1854, one of the large estate holders, Major Denis Mahon, was killed in an uprising after he ordered the removal from his property thousands of starving tenant farmers.
The Tighe family home had no running water or electricity. Today one might say they were very poor. But in those times, no one considered their plight in that way.
His mother Sarah McDermott had lived in the adjoining village, and her last name served as the springboard for the given name of the last born. She met and married James Tighe. They were, like everyone in that time, farmers.
Transportation was by foot or, if one was fortunate, bicycle.
In 1930 Ireland as a country was still gaining its stability, having just left Britain following the Irish war for Independence. The movie Michael Collins, released in 1996 and starring Liam Neeson, brought those historical events to the larger public consciousness.
In Dermot’s era, formal education rarely extended beyond Grade School. High Schools were run by the religious orders and offered a few scholarship opportunities. In 1941, at the age of 11, Dermot’s life would take a major turn. There was a private high school named Summerhill that offered an admission test to the public. Over a thousand students took the exam. Dermot’s score was in the top ten.
He was the first in his family to attend High School. He was an outstanding student, and quickly stood apart from his peers. “I don’t know but it always felt like God was creating a pathway for me.” he said later. Fittingly, he enrolled at the Seminary at St. Patricks College, Carlow. A fellow Irish priest Monsignor John Cody, who was originally from Kilkenny, Ireland, but was part of the Wichita Diocese, had previously recruited Fathers Kenny, McGovern and Murphy to Kansas. A state, by size, that was three times the size of Ireland.
Upon his arrival to Kansas in 1954, the Wichita Diocese had a protocol, which it had started several years earlier. It made assignments in the most curious of ways. The Diocese newspaper on November 5, 1954 described it this way: “Pictures of the six priests were placed in a hat. With Monseigneur John J Butler doing the drawing, three pictures were pulled for the Eastern Diocese and three for the Western – and the priest’s fate, and that of a multitude of people, was set.”
Indeed.
Dermot first assignment was Liebenthal, then Dodge City and Jetmore before he landed at St. Francis Xavier, Seward at the age of 31. The year was 1961, and our country had just elected its first Catholic President.
To be Irish was to be proud. And the town of Seward had its own population of Irish Catholics. To them, Dermot’s arrival was prophecy fulfilled.
Very quickly Dermot came to meet the small but close collection of Irish families in Seward. They were the McCabes, McCanns, McGreevys, Langs, Mortons, Gates, McAllisters, Halls, Chadds, Baiers and the Keenans. Life in Seward was vibrant. Xavier had a grade school, and an active parish. In that year the parish celebrated the ordination of one of their own -- Jerome Guesnier as a Benedictine Monk. Dominicans nuns taught at the school -- Sisters Monica, Lawrence and Rosailia were just a few of those who served.
But in that circle of friends Dermot came to know were two in particular who befriended the newcomer. Brothers Ora and Russell Keenan. Russel lived a block from the rectory, Ora was three more blocks to the south. Both were welcoming and had time on their hands. “Dermot stopped by the house often” remembers Ora’s daughter Anne Steinbacher. “He and my dad were very close. I would like to say they were best friends, but everyone thought Dermot was their best friend.” There were picnics, parties, weddings funerals.
But the social side of Dermot’s young life was about to take another turn when one day Ora posed to him a question: “Have you ever bowled?” Had Ora asked him “Have you been the moon?” would have been more sensible question.
No matter. A team was formed. Four Keenan boys -- Ora, Russell, Larry, Patrick and of course Dermot. In the mid-60’s for the uninformed, bowling was the number 1 sporting event in the country. ABC Wild World of Sports had bowling every Saturday. The White House added bowling lanes and were always in use.
But to bowl on a Keenan team required other talents. Multi-tasking, for one. You needed to drink, smoke and laugh while spinning the ball. From 61-65 the team ‘played.’ In fact, everyone man in Barton County played at some point.
The Tribune ran the standings weekly just above the contract bridge lesson. Dermot’s team was part of the well regarded Astronaut League. There other leagues, including the Ralph Terry League and the Nightowls. The teams were a Who’s Who of GB businesses that paid the bills and raised the kids that set out in the world: Bell Engine, Phillips Sporting Goods, Dawson Jewelry, Bruce Buehler Insurance, Mid Kansas Vending, Zip’s Vickers, Elliott Transfer, Spruill’s (1 and2). Dermot’s team didn’t have a sponsor per se. Their name: “Keenan.” Apparently the Bishop vetoed St Francis Foul Lines.
It was a fun era. There was a clear division of responsibility. Russell was in charge of humor, liquids, and if necessary pranking the opposition. Ora was the cool, calm one. Afterall he fought in WW2 and had seen it all. Pat was the auctioneer. He worked the crowd. Larry was former County Attorney which meant the team was above reproach on the rules. As far as anyone knew, at least. Dermot was the faith healer. The forgiver, if by chance, there was sinning. And, importantly, the designated driver.
Russell once remarked to his wife Marieta that having a beer helped him relax and bowl better. “Well tonight you must have bowled a 300!” she said. After Seward, Dermot got an assignment even closer to the 300 Bowl on 10th street – he was the first chaplain at Great Bend Medical Center in 1965.
Next: Vietnam, and returning back to Great Bend.
