Fourth Interview
Beginnings of the Legion - Part 1 / An Interview with Frank Duff . He had a great sense of humor and in this interview there are startling flashes of it especially when he describes himself. Bill Peffley attempts to capture on videotape the atmosphere of the early days of the Legion from the man who started it all. This interview was made on August 27, 1979.
" ... and I told him about Mrs. Slicker's lodging house in Chancery Lane ... where I had entered one evening on the door·to·door principle ... and I found myself in the midst of these thirty girls who were more or less getting themselves ready to go out onto the streets. Well, I was utterly unprepared (LAUGHS) and the only thought that came to my mind was: 'My goodness, if the Vincent de Paul Society hears about my being in here, I'll be fired out' (LAUGHS) ... "
Q. Welcome to a further installment in our coverage of the early days of the Legion of Mary. It's being retold for us by Brother Frank Duff in an informal way so that we can capture the flavor and the atmosphere of those early times. In a conversation last night, I was told something about Mr. Duff that he may not want to admit. I was told that in his solo work before the Legion even began, he was called the local madman of Dublin. Mr. Duff, are you aware of that reputation and how it came about?
A. Well, I wouldn't say that that had any particular currency because my behavior was not of an eccentric character. (LAUGHS) I don't know how I could have that quality imputed to me. But it awakens a thought in me. When I started my picketing at 6 1/2 Whitefriars Street, I carried my Rosary beads and during the intervals between customers, I used to endeavor to say a few prayers. I was thus engaged one time when a very lofty personage brought a group of girls out from the church and pointed down to me and said: "That is our local madman." (LAUGHS) So, one of the girls, Emma Colgan, who was not at that time in the Legion but subsequently came into it and was a tremendous member, said to him: "There's method in his madness. You'll find that he'll shut down the place." (LAUGHS)
Q. And that's exactly what happened?
A. Which happened! (LAUGHS)
Q. That's marvelous. We certainly know that there's no eccentricity in your history.
A. Well, that particular episode that we have been recounting took place at the time when I was picketing and Gabbett had departed for England.
Q, Oh, yes. Good point. We wanted to finish that story from the past interview. What actually happened to Joe Gabbett?
A. If we're attempting any sort of continuation of the previous interview, I think that terminated on the note that Gabbett and I were visiting the grim enclosure up in Portobello Barracks.
Q. That's right. A. Gabbett was at that time a man of overwhelming apostolicity. He wasn't content with the work behind the iron bars of the said enclosure but his vision looked out over the whole big barracks which held at that time 2,000 men of the Lancashire Fusilliers. He bade me to follow him and I did meekly (LAUGHS). That characterized my attitude towards Gabbett. (LAUGHS) So we went off and without leave or license or anything else and entered one of the barrack rooms. The men had had their dinner at this particular hour and they had a wait of some duration before they were let out into the city, free for the rest of that day. So the men would be sitting around mostly at the ends of the barrack room where the fires were. He came in-he'd a very powerful deep voice-and he'd say: "Will the R.C.'s please come up around me?" (LAUGHS)
After a bit of hesitation, because they were very perplexed at this strange pair wandering in, men would come up from each group and array themselves around and Gabbett would give them a lovely little talk about the fact, which he assumed they already realized, that they were in peril. He then urged them to put their house In order and be very assiduous in regard to devotion to Our Lady. He produced the brown scapular medal, which just before this time and as a war measure the Pope had authorized. These medals were offered to the soldiers and eagerly accepted. Now that particular work became very important and always followed our work inside the grim enclosure. We went out after the latter and went for the barracks. In this we were greatly assisted by the regimental Sergeant-Major, a man called Baxter who was a convert. He realized that our mission required a little supporting. It would be the nature of men to say:
"Who are these fellows?" (LAUGHS) And he used to make a point whenever he saw us on the barracks floor, to come down and chat with us. This was a hallmark. It meant that when the Sergeant-Major approved of us, we were O.K. We used to make appointments with the men who wanted to go to confession. We would be waiting outside the barracks at seven o'clock in the evening. On one historic occasion seventy men turned up. We hastily telephoned out to Milltown Park, one of the Jesuits' houses here, to have all priests standing by in readiness. We marched out along with the soldiers-they in military formation-and we had the priests of the place busy the whole' evening. (LAUGHS) That was an astounding event. All this then was terminated by Gabbett's departure for England, for Aldershot. He vanished from that year which was 1916 until 1918 when the war came to an end. He came back then but a different man-a different man. The fire was extinguished largely and he had got the habit of tippling a bit.
Q. How sad! Gabbett taking to drink ...
A. Sometimes, too much. A new chapter then ensued which has proved its own great importance in the Legion. That leads me a little further along the road than I had comtemplated. I was talking to two noble figures, Mr. Lalor, the head of the Vincent de Paul Society, and Frank Sweeney, also of that Society, and I was telling them about this tragedy and they said: "Bring him down to Mount Melleray." Melleray is the celebrated Cistercian Abbey. Now, Mount Melleray has entered in in quite a big way to the history of the Legion. But its beginning was that visit.
Q. In what way did the visit to the Cistercian Abbey play a part in the history of the Legion?
A. I had extensively read the lore of the Cistercians. I had a great devotion to St. Bernard and I knew the history of the order very well. It had a frightening effect on me. They were so very stiff, very penitential, at the time. But, in any case, I brought Gabbett down to Melleray and that visit became an annual visit. I've never missed it in a single year since that year which was 1919.
Q... 1919?
A. 1919. It was there I discovered that book by DeConcilio which was the key that opened up DeMontfort to me. Gabbett became as enthusiastic about Melleray as I was and along with me paid it another visit and then by himself frequently. I brought him into the St. Vincent de Paul Society but no further. He never came into the Legion. I would have had no trouble bringing him into that probably in the capacity of a Tribune. Well, so departs Gabbett from our organizational life. Now, you were asking about Sancta Maria and Bentley Place.
Q. We want to know about the early days of the Legion especially about Sancta Maria.
A...You'd have to give me an indication in regard to where. I should begin because the whole lead-up to Sancta - Maria is an extensive tale in itself.
Q. Does the lead-up coincide with the development of the Legion?
A. Yes. Sancta Maria was 1922, in other words, about eight or nine months after the beginning meeting of the Legion. The Legion began in September 1921 and Sancta Maria began in July 1922. In that short period you had the extraordinary swing from work that is the simplest of all work, the visitation of hospital, to the most difficult of all works ...
Q. The problem of the Street Girl?
A .... and the facing up to a very grim sort of business. But all that rather exploded on us. It was another of these things that I would regard as a great honor. The thinking is done not by ourselves but by the Queen of Heaven. She knows what's good for us but (LAUGHS) sometimes very hurtful (LAUGHS) and she leads us along. That's what took place in the case of Sancta Maria. Prior to that time I'd become very interested in this question of the Street Girl and I felt something should be done about it. There was no provision at that time at all for that problem. There were four Good Shepherd Homes in Dublin run by religious orders. They received every girl who would offer herself but they had no mechanism for going out to search. That was very serious. Also the wildest rumors existed about that type of girl. They were regarded as models of appalling depravity and tough beyond the powers to deal with them. So, my mind centered on the idea of opening up a very low-class lodging house which would tempt them in by cheap rates and put up with the fact that they were leading this life and put a couple of saints (LAUGHS) in charge of it who would put up with everything and use such opportunities as came their way of recovering the girls.
Q. A very novel idea! The example of these saints would prompt them to change their way of life.
A. That was the plan. So, again, this extraordinary process of being led along took place. At that time I got a letter from the Reverend Mother of the Baldoyle Convent, the Sisters of Charity, Baldoyle, and she said that she had two ladies staying out in the guest house attached to their place who were of the highest quality and wanted to do social work. "Would I mind seeing them and helping them?" I wrote back making an appointment for one o'clock on a Saturday which was the hour I got off on my half day at my place of work. I met the two of them. I had seen them before and I realized that they were people of great holiness. One of them was Miss Plunkett. Miss Plunkett was 6 feet high and her father had been the leader of the Irish Bar. She was, what you'd have to regard, as a veritable saint. The other was Miss Scrattan. Miss Scrattan had a history. Her father was Thomas Scrattan, a clergyman of the Church of England, who fell under the influence of Cardinal Newman and came into the Church. He accompanied Newman over to Dublin to found a Catholic University here and, by what seems to be a coincidence beyond parallel, would appear to have stayed in 76 Harcourt Street which was subsequently our hostel. ..
Q. Sancta Maria?
A, Yes ... and the signs of their occupancy were still evident. He was a married man and she was one of his daughters. So, these were the two who came to me and I gave them the works. They had an amazing scheme of their own in mind which I proceeded to demolish (LAUGHS) with a battle axe. It was that they would open a restaurant in Dublin ...
Q. A restaurant?
A, Yes, ... and work it with voluntary labor including themselves. The profits of this were all to go towards the Columban Sisters who were just at that time being started. That represented certainly heroic work but, as I saw it then, not so profitable a use of their services. I put there before them as a counterpoise my low-down lodging house. Well, if you had suggested to them that it would be a help to souls to jump down Vesuvius, they'd have done it. I never saw such utter devotion. They agreed that if such an institution were presented to them, that we count on them. But, in the meantime, they were to join the Legion. In order to bring them in, we started Praesidium Number Two.
Q. Before we go on to Praesidium Number Two, I was wondering if you would tell us of the events between 1919, when you took Joe Gabbett on retreat at Mount Melleray, and this period that you were describing just now.
A. During all that time, preparatory to the actual coming of the Legion, the preliminary association was in full operation. That association began in 1917 and we were working in the pattern of the Legion with a monthly meeting. It was that meeting that quite suddenly transformed itself into the real article as a result of our session on "The True Devotion". But there was no hiatus between any of these dates because it was a state of hectic evolution the whole time hectic. Now you come along to the time when we set up the second praesidium and that second praesidium met in the room behind the one in which Number One was meeting. I was attending that too every week. Father Creedon had but recently come to Francis Street from the country and his quality became immediately manifest. Father Creedon, Father Toher and I became a sort of trinity. We talked over our plans a great deal. I spent a certain amount of my time late at night, when the activities at the presbytery would be over, with those two great priests. I told Father Creedon about my notions about this lowdown lodging house and I told him about Mrs. Slicker's lodging house in Chancery Lane where there were thirty girls and where I had entered one evening on the door-to door principle. I was working on my own.
Q. Going door·to·door on one of your projects?
A. I was working on my own. I came this particular evening into this place and I found myself in the midst of these thirty girls who were more or less getting themselves ready to go out onto the streets. Well, I was utterly unprepared (LAUGHS) and the only thought that came to my mind was: "My goodness, if the Vincent de Paul Society hears about my being in here, I'll be fired out" (LAUGHS) because there'd be no use my saying, "Oh, I was going in my private capacity." They were terrified of their men getting into any trouble with women (LAUGHS) and here was I going into one of these places. Well, I was so astonished, so disoriented, (LAUGHS) that without a word, (LAUGHS) I backed out of the place (LAUGHS). I had only one thought uppermost in my mind. I told all these things to Father Creedon.
In the month of June of that year the very celebrated figure, Father Ignatius Gibney, the Passionist, was giving a retreat to the women of the Francis Street Parish and Father Creedon brought him down one day to Mrs. Slicker's lodging house just before the evening devotions about the very same hour I had stumbled into the place. The two of them gathered the girls together in the big common room and spoke to them gently along the spiritual lines. The result of this was extraordinary. You'll understand I wasn't there. The girls all began to weep and to protest that they hated their life. But what could they do? Nobody would touch them. Nobody would employ them. A simple matter for them. They had to live. And, at this stage, Father Creedon made a drastic offer. He said to the proprietress of the place that he would pay her an agreed sum for her maintenance of the girls until further notice and they were on the other hand to promise that they would not go out on the streets during that period. That agreement was come to and Father Creedon came straight up from that particular business to me and told me what had happened. I at once summoned a meeting for that night. To that meeting we brought Father Creedon, Father Toher and Father Robinson, another distinguished figure, and up from Praesidium Number Two I brought up these two ladies. We spent a fair time looking at that incredible situation. What on earth are we going to do? Oh, yes, I should have mentioned a very important name, Father Devane. He was a Jesuit and he had opened the Rathfarnham Retreat House for Men.
Now Father Devane believed in the enclosed retreat. He believed it would cure broken limbs (LAUGHS). I never saw such a conviction as he had about the value of a weekend retreat. (LAUGHS) At that particular time I partially shared his enthusiasm which diminished later. (LAUGHS) But, in any case, he was one of those brought.
We thought over a lot of things but the only one that seemed to have some promise was Father Devane's suggestion that we gather them together and give them a retreat-a three-day retreat. He volunteered to give the retreat himself. He said he'd give them "hell fire" and this might incite a number of them to go into the Magdalen Asylums which existed. Thus far and thus far only did our thoughts reach out at that particular meeting. But we came to the decision that on the following day Father Devane and Miss Plunkett would go around the convents of Dublin trying to secure one of them to house that retreat and that we would meet again the next evening to find what had happened.
The following evening we came together again and Father Devane and Miss Plunkett gave us an account of their day's work which had been a very arduous one. They had gone through a number of the Dublin convents finding failure in everyone because the reaction of the Nuns to the idea of housing these thirty lassies. They had no facilities for such a thing. It sounded awful at the time. They registered a total failure in their search in all Dublin and in this moment of darkness, Miss Plunkett said: "Let's go out to Baldoyle and see Mother Angela Walsh," who was the person who had written to me about the two ladies. They went off out there. It's about seven miles from the city and they were received very cordially by that wonderful person. She was full of anxiety to help. They had premises, all right, plenty of them and she wanted to do it. So, in the end she said: "I'll have to obtain the permission of our Mother General." She went to the telephone and she described what was at stake. The Mother General listened patiently enough and then said firmly: "No." But that "No" was interrupted in the saying, that is, it never reached Mother. Walsh. At that moment our own troubles were going on-I mean national troubles-and that wire was cut. The phone wire was cut ...
Q. The phone wire was cut!
A .... and Mother Walsh worked might and main to get communication but communication there was none. Since she had these people waiting, she had to give an answer and she judged that she was in the position of being able to make the decision herself. And she said: "Yes." (LAUGHS) So they came back and told us. That was a wonderful thing. If we could induce the girls to consent, that was going to carry us along for a few days. Gaining even an hour of time in these circumstances was a triumph. Now that was a Wednesday evening and we agreed that the following morning a group of us would go down to Slicker's and canvass the girls. It was eleven o'clock the following day when we went down, Father Devane, Father Creedon, myself and Miss Plunkett. I don't think Miss Scrattan was there which is surprising in a way-I may be wrong. But in any case, we went into the first room which held four girls and we proceeded to put the proposition before them and, "Oh, what was the game? Oh, what was the game?" Suspicion was in the atmosphere. Some game! So we spent some time, surely a full half hour, arguing with those four girls. In my own way I think I had a part in the favorable decision which they eventually gave. They knew me. I was up and down Chancery Lane before their eyes for several years. They all knew me and that helped them to feel that there was nothing terribly sinister. They didn't know any of the others, not even Father Creedon who had only just come into their lives in the visitation of the previous few days. In the end we had extracted a consent from those four. Then we went out and into room number two which probably held a similar number. The same anguish obtained there, the same persuasion. And then we'd come out and find out that the whole population of number one room had "ratted." Some prophets of evil were among them: "This is a plot on the part of the government to lock you up." You must remember that the new government had just come into possession, the native Irish government. And, oh, this was terrible!
We had to go back to number one and renew all this business. Then we'd come out and number two had "ratted." Eventually we went on to room three and four and the rest. We had got a consent from everybody by about five o'clock. Now that was an ordeal!
Q... can well imagine. What time was it when you finally completed the ordeal?
It must have been half past four when we finally succeeded. You realize that in the interim we had absolutely nothing to eat, not even a cup of tea. So, the others left and Father Creedon and I went up to a store in Camden Street, Gorevan's, and we bought beds and a number of other things necessary to house people. Father Creedon was buying like a hero. (LAUGHS) You'd think he had the Bank of Ireland at his disposal. 1 should have mentioned that the Nuns were in a panic about contact between the girls and their holiday home that they were running up there. As the Nun said: "If word went out through Dublin that we were entertaining street girls, it would kill both our holiday home and our weekend retreat house." (LAUGHS) So, they arranged that at no point would these different things touch each other. We'd have to bring beds, but they would give us bed linen which was getting towards the end of its usefulness and they would make us a present of that to take away with us. They wouldn't even use it a second time after the girls.
Q. can understand the Sisters not wanting to take any chances.
A. So having thus let ourselves in for a debt, 1 went into my office for the first time that day, (LAUGHS) and 1 endeavored to do some work. I got a ring on the phone from Tom Fallon who had heard about all these maneuvers of ours. 1 suppose it had gone through Dublin rapidly. He said that he understood that the Archbishop had been making some caustic comments about the whole business (LAUGHS) and had termed it sentimentality. (LAUGHS) 1 couldn't see that but in any case this had been said and the next thing I got a ring on the phone from Father Devane. I mentioned this to Father Devane and he was scared. "Oh, oh, call off the whole thing," he said, "Call off the whole thing. We daren't go on if there is any doubt in the minds of high authority. Oh, call it all off at once." I didn't see the force of letting all our anxiety and work up to date go down the drain like that. I said to him that we'll have to decide on that formally and arranged for a meeting in Father Toher's room.
At eight o'clock, we met, Father Creedon, Father Toher, Father Robinson, Father Devane, and myself. We did not bring the two ladies because they would be terribly disedified. (LAUGHS) Father Devane's fear derived from the fact that a Jesuit had just been transferred to Australia for some little thing that the Archbishop had disapproved of and Father Devane emphatically did not want to go out to Australia. (LAUGHS) So, (LAUGHS) an anguishing debate followed. Not that we would give up. The only one who wanted really to give up was Father Devane. But the remainder was divided into two of which one-half thinking that we should go and put the whole thing to the Archbishop and the other, that numbered myself, didn't see what this was about. "If the Archbishop doesn't approve, let him say so. Why should we be going up pleading for a refusal? What's the harm?" (LAUGHS) But then the caution, especially with priests, is a big problem. Finally, it was agreed by the majority that Father Creedon would go to the Archbishop, even at that late hour in the evening, and put the thing before him and get his approbation. He went up to his own room in the house to put on his best clothes (LAUGHS) and after an unexpectedly short time, he comes down and he says:
"1 became sane when 1 went (LAUGHS) upstairs (LAUGHS). Why should we court a refusal in that way? (LAUGHS) If he disapproves, he knows all about it, let him send us word and we'll obey him. 1 have turned completely now against going." (LAUGHS) That was the final decision.
Now that was a Thursday night and we had made the arrangement with the girls that a bus would be waiting for them at eleven o'clock at Myra House on Friday morning and that they would go out to Baldoyle and have a three-day retreat there. I engaged a bus, not of the modern version, because they didn't exist. What existed then were solid-tired vehicles and no top on them, charabancs they were called at the time, having all the colors of the rainbow. (LAUGHS) Oh yes, I should mention that in the evening's debate among the priests and myself we had agreed that since Father Devane had regarded himself as being in a difficult position, we would release him from his undertaking to give the retreat. At that he was most relieved. So, the question arose: "Who'd give the retreat?" Father Creedon and Father Toher said: "Well, we'll make a fist of it ourselves if we can't get any regular retreat-giver." (LAUGHS) So that was that. But then looking around for a possible retreat-giver, the name of Father Philip Murphy, O.F.M., was suggested. He was a more-or-Iess recently ordained Franciscan stationed at the big Church on the Quays, what they call "Adam and Eve's," and he had got a lot of fame in Dublin. He was giving a retreat in that church at the time of the coming Grand National and he had "tipped" as the winner "Sergeant Murphy," which was an Irish contender in the race. "Sergeant Murphy" romped home at big odds (LAUGHS) and this enriched the population of Dublin who had all put their last dollar (LAUGHS) on "Sergeant Murphy." (LAUGHS) It spread Father Philip's fame throughout the city and he came into our minds for this reason. I was then told that in the early morning of the following day, the fateful Friday, to go down and put the proposition to him.
The following morning immedtately after Mass I went in to see him and this St. Anthony-like figure came in to me. Lovely person. I told him what had happened and I asked him would he give the retreat. "I would love to," he said, "In fact, you can assume that I will. Of course, I have to get the Provincial's permission." Oh, that was a blow (strikes breast) to the heart (LAUGHS) because, as you know, so often obstacles come from above. "Oh," he said, "you needn't be worried, he'll give it with joy." So we were all staged for the thing. I raced home Father Philip, O.F.M. and had something to eat and then I ambled down to Chancery Lane.
You must not think I was in any mood of optimism when I was coming down because I was saying to myself: "Now the inciters of doubts have had nearly twenty-four hours with the girls. They won't turn up. Of that you could not have any hope." But then when I came down into Chancery Lane, the place was packed with people. It was evident that something sensational was taking place. I pushed my way through the crowd and there were all our girls ready, standing around the street, each with a suitcase. So, I pushed forward and I said to them:
"Look, don't be creating excitement. Get moving now up to Myra House." And I got them moving and a river of humanity flowed along with them. When we got up to Francis Street, there was a contrary river flowing in on that place. There a few minutes later arrives the gaudy charabanc. Well, after trying to recover from this unutterably happy shock, we proceeded to shepherd them out into the bus. And, we were able to county twenty-three out of the thirty.
Q....Only seven street girls failed to show up! That's incredible!
A.... Then the three ladies, Miss Plunkett, Miss Scrattan and another lady who had agreed to go on the retreat, and I got into the front box along with two drivers and we started off right down to the Quays. The bus crawled along a couple of miles an hour, this being caused by the packed street. The whole thing had created an immense sensation. We got down then onto the Quays and turned to the right and went down the other side of the Quays and came to the Four Courts, that big building down there which was half-ruined by the bombardment of the previous week, and there was a tremendous mob of soldiers with grappling irons pulling down some of the tottering walls. The bus stopped there and I got out and ran down to "Adam and Eve's" because we didn't know whether we had a retreat-giver. The moment I left, panic ensued in the bus. "The soldiers are going to fire on us." Excited minds! I went and asked for Father Philip and he came in a second and he said: "I've got the permission, alright." He came out and looked up at the bus and said: "I would dearly love to go with you in that thing but it's no use challenging public opinion too much." (LAUGHS) He'd follow out by bus or train as it was at the time. I returned and the moment of my return stilled the panic. Then we started off. It was a very beautiful day and they sang all the way out to Baldoyle. We arrived at Baldoyle and shortly after we arrived, Gorevan's van with the beds arrived.
Q.... That's what I call timing!
A.... I helped the van-man to carry in the beds and the ladies came and decked them out with bedding. There we were staged for the first retreat. Father Philip arrived just then too. He was going to give his first lecture before they would have their first meal. He gathered them all around him and he said: "Have any of you ever made an enclosed retreat?" No, not one of them ever had. "I'll tell you what you're supposed to do." And he gave them a little account. Then he said: "Normally, silence is part" of an enclosed retreat. But you are all in a disturbed state and I'm not going to ask you to keep silence. You can talk away as much as you like." "And," he said, "I understand that two of you do not belong to the Catholic Church and you might prefer to wander around outside during the lectures." One girl spoke up, Lucy Jones, and said: "No, Father," she says, "I have come along with my pals and I'm going to go through with everything with them." And the other girl said: "That goes for me, too, Father." And they attended everything and before the retreat was finished, they had given in their names as candidates for the Church. Well, those days were the most thrilling experience that could ever be imagined. I was in a most extraordinary position which could only have arisen as a direct intervention by heaven. I was my own master. When the new government had come into being, it had resulted in my being in a position, for the moment, of independence. I was only dependent on a Minister. I had no books to sign coming in or going out and for days I wouldn't go into the office at all. So, (LAUGHS) it was no problem. I attended all the lectures. Father Philip proved to be a genuine angel from heaven. The whole thing went without any hitches at all. We had a little room put at our disposal as a headquarters room and into this we went frequently to iron out the problems-the big problem being, "Where are we going to go on Monday?"
Q....I think that that is a perfect question on which to end this installment. We invite our viewers to join us when we again have the pleasure of recalling the early days of the Legion with Mr. Frank Duff.
The interview is available on video-cassettes and audiocassettes from:
The interview is available on video-cassettes and audiocassettes from:
Concilium Legionis Mariae, Morning Star A venue, Brunswick Street, Dublin 7 Ireland