ACTOR TP McKenna never forgot his native town of Mullagh, Co Cavan, and Mullagh never forgot him. St Kilian’s Catholic church at one end of the main street was filled to its doors and beyond on Saturday as mourners gathered to celebrate his life.
Well-known faces were present but the locals had come out in force and, famous or not, most had their TP story, recalling his sense of fun, his practical kindness, his wry irony. That he was loved, revered and respected was obvious, but TP McKenna, actor, husband, father and friend, was liked by all. Here was a special individual whose life had been consummately successful.
Mullagh is a good place to come from and to be in, genuine and direct, as was TP. While so many Irish rural towns have become confused, artificial and clumsily suburbanised, this town just over the Co Meath border remains calm and handsome, traditional without a trace of pastiche. It has won awards for its clean streets but its true quality lies in its community. Green and white football colours draped Thomas Patrick McKenna’s casket. In leading the service, parish priest Fr John Quinn said: “TP loved Mullagh and Mullagh loved him.”
His fellow actors saw the skill in his performances but Fr Quinn, speaking on behalf of TP McKenna’s grateful public, identified the subtle genius behind the craft: TP made his characters real, “he made fiction true”.
His range and versatility were always known but, as writer and friend Dermot Healy later remarked, there were other performances not yet mentioned. At each conversation another role was recalled. McKenna has left a huge body of quality work, on stage, television and film, ranging, as Fr Quinn said, "from Shakespeare to Fair City." He was Buck Mulligan and Cranly from Joyce and Harold Skimpole in Dickens's Bleak House. It was TP who traded wits with John Thaw in the final episode of Inspector Morse.
Yet, for all McKenna’s professional success, Saturday was about his greatest role: as a father. The heartbroken faces of his middle-aged children, four sons and daughter, said more than all the eulogies.
His eldest son, Ralph, formalised the communal leave-taking by telling his father to “go join Mammy” before he kissed his father’s coffin. May, his wife, who died five years ago, was a strong presence throughout the service.
Kavanagh’s words “Sing of the childhood that renews in the heart” provided some consolation, as did the inspired use of a quote from Saint Exupéry: “In one of the stars I shall be living.”
At a time in which Ireland seems bereft, sullied and betrayed by years of inept government, the atmosphere in a packed church in Co Cavan radiated old-style decency.
The spring sunshine yielded briefly as the congregation waited for the coffin-bearers to emerge from the church. The sky darkened, a shower crashed down as a freak wind blew.
Actor Marion O’Dwyer, when asked about her memories of TP McKenna, said simply: “I loved him.” Also present were Stephen Rea, Barry McGovern, Geraldine Plunkett, Peadar Lamb, Mark Lambert and Alan Stanford.
Mullagh-born Derbhle Crotty spoke of how TP had helped her in London. The Gate and Abbey theatres were represented by directors Michael Colgan and Fiach Mac Conghail.
The procession made its way to the graveyard of the ancient Teampall Cheallaigh nearby. The ground here is undulating, its slopes and hollows emphasised by tenacious snowdrops. The coffin was lowered into the grave in which May McKenna had been laid to rest five years ago.
After the prayers had been said, Fr Felim McGovern asked to pay his own tribute. Eleven months older than TP, Fr McGovern, now retired and living in Cavan town, spoke of his friend, disbelief at his passing lingered on his face.
It was a remarkable moment. But then this simple, dignified funeral was remarkable; it celebrated a much-loved man and restored one’s faith in community, in Ireland and in life itself.
