APHSource: THE MANTLE
Galway lost one of its most distinguished citizens at the death of “Father Tom” Fahy, which took place at his home, Mill Street, on July 18, 1973. Born in 1887 in Gloves in Kiltulla parish he was the son of Patrick Fahy and Ann Creaven and was one of a family of eight. Educated at Esker N.S. and Esker diocesan college, after a distinguished course of studies, he was ordained in Maynooth in 1912. Following classical postgraduate studies, he taught at the Pines, Ballinasloe and Maynooth. For over thirty years, from 1927, he was Professor of Classics at U.C.G. He was an excellent and revered teacher and found time also to write scholarly articles on the classics, Scripture and education. After his retirement, he published a book on Scripture. Born into a strongly nationalistic family, he naturally was both sympathetic towards and involved in the struggle for freedom. A close friend of Liam Mellowes, he took part in the 1916 uprising in Co. Galway, in a spiritual capacity. He brought the word of disbandment to the Galway Volunteers under Liam Mellowes at LimePark, Peterswell. Thanks to Father Fahy’s approach to General Sir John Maxwell, the late Father Harry Feeney was able to go to America. Monsignor Fahy continued to take a discreet interest in politics and was the friend of many Cabinet ministers and politicians.
He was also a close friend of the successive Bishops of Galway and Clonfert. After his retirement he was honoured with a Domestic Prelacy by the Pope. An expert horseman, be had a lifelong interest in greybounds. A man of deep and simple piety, he was an exemplary priest, with a rare capacity for friendship. His wise counsel as a member of the Governing Body of U.C.G. was valued. It was there he made his greatest impact. and many generations of his students recall him with affection. Mr. Patrick J. Lindsay, S.C., a former Government Minister and one of his most brilliant students, pays this tribute:
At eighteen, anybody between twenty-five and thirty was old. This view is the subconscious joy or the defective reasoning of youth At eighteen in the then new Arts Building in University College, Galway, one could, for either of these reasons, be forgiven for thinking that Father Tom Fahy was old. How wrong I was, has remained with me a feeling somewhat akin to remorse. Age, of course, has its physical finality; the mind generally is a timeless and ageless mechanism. And here at all times was the real Father Fahy. He was young and continued as young as each succeeding set of his students. After a very short time, I was fortunate enough to recognise this fact, and having recognised it, was blessed with the disposition that enabled me benefit considerably from a situation of respectful and appreciative equality. Added to that, his kindness, tolerance and interest made, what was, and continued to be, a wonderful relationship, work. There was an unspoken pride in this mutual craftsmanship.
