Remembering The Saint

Virginia and Donal St Leger.

News of the death of Donal St Leger ('The Saint') at his home in New Jersey has brought both sadness and happy memories to many in his native Kilcullen, writes Brian Byrne.

The scion of a well-known local family, Donal left Kilcullen in 1955 for America, 'as there was no place for a man of my skills' in Ireland of the time.  In his own words, those skills consisted of 'I had played football with the top players here, and I had danced with the best looking women in the province of Leinster, and it was time for Donal St Leger to find new fields to conquer'.

After a period working in construction up in the mining area of the Yukon, he came back to Kilcullen for a brief time in 1959. He then returned to America and set up home with his late wife Virginia in New Jersey.

Working as a baker, Donal settled fully into the American way as he and Virginia raised their children, Brian and Kathleen. But he always felt the pull of home, and would visit at least once a year to catch up with Kilcullen and his friends. After he retired, the visits increased in frequency and three times a year locals could know the month by word of the arrival of 'The Saint'. Virginia sometimes accompanied him, until her death in August 2011.

His trips back to Kilcullen were occasions to recall and revisit the old days of the village, through stories over beers with those still around who could provide prompts and rememberances of their own. Donal shared his presence equally through the various Kilcullen hostelries, while his accomodation headquarters for many years has been Bardons.

In June 2013, he was given a surprise party in McTernan's Bar, during which he was made the first and only 'Freeman of Kilcullen'. In June 2016, his 80th birthday was another occasion for celebration, this time at a party in Fallons.

Apart from his visits back to Ireland, Donal and Virginia's home in New Jersey was always an open house for visitors from Kilcullen to that part of the world. Inevitably, these gatherings would end up in an Irish bar somewhere, quite often Rosie O'Grady's in Manhattan, where Frances Brennan from Old Kilcullen works.

Sometimes people who emigrate can change substantially through the influences of where they have settled. That didn't happen to the Saint. Apart from the Jersey edge to his accent, he retained most of what he had been when he first sailed to the other side of the Atlantic in search of a living and a life. Which is why everybody was happy to see him, at Christmas sometimes, for Punchestown nearly always, and his late summer arrivals during which he generally also took himself off on an excursion to the west of Ireland.

Now those days are done. No more walking down the street and being told 'the Saint is home'. No more 'Hey, what's up?' when we'd run into him eventually. No more the gentle smile or the laugh over a remembered piece of mischief involving the Gilly or someone else from the compadres of his Kilcullen youth. No more the danger of a hangover from a session for which meeting the Saint was a too-handy excuse.

Wherever it might be, it's nice to believe he's now in the same place as his beloved Virginia, and with those friends who have predeceased him. As it happened, I was given the news of his passing just before boarding a plane for his adopted country. And though on his side of the pond, I won't be able to attend his funeral. But I've brought some of Kilbeggan's finest to my son Carl for Christmas, and we'll raise a glass to Donal's memory, and to the memories he raised himself.

God be good to you, Saint. And to your loved ones and many friends left behind.