My earliest memory of Robert Whiteside was in Blackhall Place, where Robert had joined King's Hospital as a senior pupil from Newtown School in Waterford. I was a couple of years his junior and he, a talented sportsman, was a welcome asset and an immediately respected member of the school.
Irish and inter-provincial caps in hockey and cricket were important achievements, but is not for his exceptional gifts as sportsman that I remember him; it was rather for his exceptional smile. That now well-known Whiteside smile conveyed so much. It communicated a gentle confidence, a warm recognition, a kind benevolence, which junior pupils seek from older pupils and which is so often lacking.
It is this very special ability to communicate which always attracted me to Robert and kindled my deepest appreciation and respect. Daniel, his son-in-law, in his prayers at the funeral service, referred to Robert's enthusiastic manner of greeting. An almost exaggerated handshake, bow, flurry of arms, eloquent flow of language accompanied each friendly encounter. This was an essential ingredient of Robert's larger-than-life personality. He had such an abundance of genuine joy and warmth to share that it needed every ounce of his energy to get across the depth of his feeling. Did you ever sit beside him at a school play? That unique laugh! How often did he encourage young actors with his applause? Of course this was precisely the same personality trait which informed his teaching, his preaching and his writing.
Robert could hold his history classes spellbound for hours on end, so thorough was his understanding of his subject. He could equally hold his church congregations spellbound, so deep was his personal commitment to his faith. Young and old were equally pleased to hear him speak. His daily addresses to the pupils in chapel, always spiked by some reference to sporting achievements or recollections of a past pupil's service to society at large, were an inspiring thought for the day for pupils and staff alike.
This same urge to communicate was superbly expressed in Robert's writing. Through his journalism, especially in the Church of Ireland Gazette, he found the ideal means to communicate his deep humanity and even deeper faith to those whom he could not reach in school. As author, co-author and collaborator with his wife Lesley and Noel Mahony, he preserved for posterity the history of almost every aspect of his school's heritage.
Oliver Goldsmith, in the Deserted Village, referring to the parson and his congregation, remarks: "and still the wonder grew, that one small head could carry all he knew." Robert was gifted with an encyclopaedic mind. He had a truly amazing memory for detail. I'm thinking of conversations with colleagues when he was able to quote test results, team memberships, news details, historical data - ad infinitum. How did he do it? However, it was his ability to remember people's names that impressed, no, endeared him to so many. How did he do it? It was said of Archbishop Simms that he attributed his exceptional ability to address people by name to the fact that he remembered in his prayers everyone to whom he was newly introduced. He recalled the many thousands of people to whom he was introduced in a long life in ministry, in the quiet calm of his hours of prayer. Robert did likewise. Every child and every adult craves recognition. The most wholesome recognition comes from being addressed by your first name. That engenders confidence, trust and sincerity in communication. Robert used that gift to all our benefit.
Professionally, Robert put his talents to best use in the world of education. As schoolmaster, as housemaster, headmaster and chaplain, he found his niche. His work as history master was highly productive: he influenced countless history graduates and teachers. His work as housemaster, together with Lesley as housemistress, of Mercer House in Castleknock, was formative for them and for their charges. It was under Bob and Lesley's guidance that the New King's Hospital as a fledgling co-educational institution came to life.
When the call to serve as warden of Wilson's Hospital came, it was rather like God calling Samuel. Bob was apprehensive, but the opportunities for doing good and valuable work would not let go. Together with Lesley, as always, Bob worked his socks off to carry on the good work done by his close friend Philip Day. Apart from running a rural boarding-school in the difficult economic climate of the 1980s, he committed himself to the spiritual development of the school, inspired by its beautiful Georgian chapel. And then another window of opportunity presented itself. The King's Hospital family now needed a resident housemaster and religious education teacher. And so began the great return. In the meantime, Robert the lay reader had taken Holy Orders, and in due course the school needed a new chaplain. Once again Bob was there to answer the call.
I think it is fair to say that as priest and chaplain Robert was at his happiest. I had the privilege of working with him in chapel. I saw it as my role to provide the environment for Bob to do his work. Innovative, inspirational, deeply - and indeed infectiously - spiritual, he infused the chaplaincy with new enthusiasm. The same enthusiasm for outreach saw pupils encouraged actively to support efforts for Christian Aid, Fair Trade, Third World debt reduction, Aids treatment. . .Charitable works in South Africa and South America followed. Ecumenical outreach and co-operation, especially with our close neighbours Clongowes Wood College, Christian Youth Musical extravaganzas, the Taizé experience - all came into their own.
All of us felt sad and shocked when we learned of Robert's diagnosis with cancer only weeks after his farewell retirement party last year. How could such a truly good man, who had done such good work, be stricken down? The injustice of it caused many of us to beg God to explain! Robert spent the past year explaining on God's behalf! His funeral service was, at his specific wish, a celebration, a Thanksgiving Service. It provided an opportunity to celebrate and give thanks for his wonderful example as husband, father, father-in-law, brother, granddad, friend and colleague. Andrew, his son, summed it up well for me when he said, "Dad is sad that we are sad, but happy in the sure hope of life eternal. We should be happy with him."
My earliest memory of Robert was of the special Whiteside smile. My last memory of him, when illness had almost entirely robbed him of the ability to communicate, was a "thumbs up". Recognition. All is well. I am happy. Amen.
HM