This is one of a series of posters planned for railway stations around Ireland. The posters emphasise an aspect of local history. This one, in Kilbarrack DART station, chose Gordon Brewster, a cartoonist about whom I have just written a book.
The cartoon is by Derry Dillon and it really is very clever. The half-finished cartoons attributed to Brewster are details from the actual collection of Brewster cartoons in the National Library of Ireland.
Brewster could be considered a "local" as he is buried in Kilbarrack cemetery and lived in both Sutton and Howth.
The series was conceived by the historian Turtle Bunbury. Installation is ongoing and they hope to eventually have posters in 100 stations around Ireland.
These are summarised below, but if you want to hear the whole thing click on the AUDIO (35mins) following the speeches. Alternatively you can read a "transcript" here
Photo:Leentje Folens
I started by welcoming all to the launch, including my Dutch relations who had flown over for the event, and past pupils from the Class of '63, my classmates, from Coláiste Mhuire.
I then went on to explain my tenuous connection with Gordon Brewster and how the book eventually came about after the National Library got some 500 of his original drawings and I contacted the Brewster family.
Photo:Leentje Folens
I pointed out that the book is neither a comprehensive biography of Gordon Brewster (much remains to be written) nor is it a comprehensive review of his lifetime of cartooning. It is based on, and largely confined to, those cartoons included in the National Library’s collection, along with details of his family life based on information from the family, and the odd public record added in.
I also pointed out that we are so fortunate to have this collection of his original drawings. Were we to be stuck with relying on the reproductions in the newspapers, we would never have been able to appreciate the subtlety of presentation in the originals.
I then asked Felix Larkin to launch the book.
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Photo:Paul Egan
Felix did me proud, welcoming me to the small elite band of historians of cartoons, of which he himself is a distinguished member. He was lavish in his praise for the book and paid me some complimentss which I really don't deserve but am quite prepared to accept on the occasion.
He went on to outline the history of Irish cartoons and claimed that I had been kinder to Gordon than had his own newspaper the Irish Independent.
Photo:Leentje Folens
His verdict on the book is that it is a very comprehensive study – and it retrieves the memory of Gordon Brewster for posterity, as well as contributing greatly to the history of Irish cartoons.
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I was thrilled that 10 Brewsters flew over to attend the event. That's how much the book meant to them. I was anxious that one of them would convey exactly what this meant to them and Leigh Brewster, Gordon's grandson, volunteered to say a few wordsl
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Photo:Eoghan O'Duibhir
Leigh explained how the name Gordon Brewster was carried down through each generation of the family, right down to his son, Mathew Gordon Brewster, Gordon's great grandson. But he stressed that there was more than just a name involved, a family's history and journey. It is about a family once lost then brought back together. About an unknown history that they shared but never knew and a journey that taught them that history, that they can now pass on.
Photo:Paul Egan
He credits me with being a guide who has taken the family along new paths and introduced them to their Irish heritage, not just shown them their family history but brought their extended family closer together. So I am not just an author and a researcher but someone they think of as a FRIEND.
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Diarmuid Ó Gráda credited me with introducing him to aspects of his cultural life and recalled an incident involving Lady Chatterley's Lover.
That in turn prompted me to expand on the story.
And that more or less wrapped up the speeches.
THE AUDIO
Now, after my nearly botched attempt to record the launch of Leentje Folens book, I resolved to never let that happen again. But in my excitement it did. As I said above, I started by welcoming all to the launch, including my Dutch relations who had flown over for the event, and past pupils from the Class of '63, my classmates, from Coláiste Mhuire. I then described Gordon's death in the Sweetshop. It was then that I noticed I had forgotten to turn on the recording. So I stopped and turned on the recording, and you can pick up the audio from there:-
THE CAKE
Thank God the day went well. No serious surprises. At least not in a negative sense.
But there was one big surprise. A hugely positive and welcome one.
Susan, Eoghan's wife, had arranged a cake. But this was no ordinary cake. It was a highly luxurious and expertly decorated cake with the cartoon from the cover of the book as the top icing.
Flabbergasted I was. Thank you Susan.
The Cake Photo:Eoghan O'Duibhir
This led to the most amazing ceremony - the cutting of the cake by Gordon's great-great-granddaughter, Martha, with the Brewsters all gathered round. And it echoed my first meeting with Dolores, who was accompanied then by Lynne (Gordon's granddaugher, Katrina Gordon's great granddaughter and Lotte (Gordon's great-great-granddaughter). Four generations of Brewsters. At the cake-cutting we had three of those four generations, Dolores having died in May 2016, but with Martha, Lotte's little sister to cut the cake. A chain of continuity and belonging and a fitting setting for the cake.
Brewster group waiting to cut the cake Photo:Eoghan O'Duibhir
Martha's cutting lesson Photo:Eoghan O'Duibhir
Martha cutting the cake Photo:Eoghan O'Duibhir
COLÁISTE
A fair clatter of my former classmates turned up (Coláiste Mhuire 1963) which was very encouraging.
Frank, Barry, Kevin Photo:Leentje Folens
Me, Fionnuala, Alan Photo:Michael McShane
THE INLAWS
Ruud & Saskia
I was very surprised to learn that my Dutch inlaws were flying in for the launch, well, also to meet up with me.
MY OWN FUNERAL
At one point I was struck by a simple truth. At a funeral the corpse is eulogised and the only person present who can't hear what is being said is the corpse. Here I am giving birth to my book and I can wallow in the vastly expanded eulogies. So, in a sense, I'm at my own funeral, and enjoying it imensely.
You can order the book through a variety of sources from this site. Lettertec is the best bet for those in Europe.
This is one of Gordon Brewster's cartoons on censorship. It depicts the vulture of immoral literature feasting off the flesh of the Irish citizen.
Now, I am a great person for connections, and in the course of the Gordon Brewster project there have been many. For example, when I first met Gordon's family there were four generations present, from Gordon's daughter down to his great-great-granddaughter. At my recent book launch the cake was cut by Gordon's great-great-granddaughter, sister of the earlier one. It just provided a sense of continuity from Gordon's death (1946) to the book launch (2024), and his rescue from obscurity at the book launch.
There is another, wholly artistic connection between Gordon and today.
Becca is Gordon's great-granddaughter and she's an artist. In a recent challenge in her art group, they were asked to chose an artist and repaint one of that artist's pieces in their their own style. Becca chose Gordon and his cartoon on immoral literature.
Becca's Painting
There is one significant difference between the two depictions. Gordon has concentrated on the evil of immoral literature. Becca, however, sees a greater danger in the banning of books.
This also reminded me of Gordon's tribute to the Dutch cartoonist Raemaekers, where he took one of the latter's cartoons, made a slight amendment, and turned it into a most vicious anti Northern Ireland government cartoon.
We know that Gordon was primarily an artist and a trained artist at that. He attended the Dublin Metropolitan School of Art, and he exhibited twice at least in the Royal Hibernian Academy.
His first exhibition was in 1916 where he had two pieces on show. It was an unfortunate start as that was the year when the Academy itself burned to the ground during the annual exhibition.
The Easter Rising was in full swing and the Helga was shelling the GPO from its dock at the Custom House. Unfortunately the Academy was in the line of fire and got hit. Everything in the building was lost: all of the pieces on exhibition and all of the Academy's own art collection. The only thing saved was the Academy's own constitution.
Undaunted, Gordon had another piece in the following year's exhibition, The Dead Rebel, a portrait of a dead rebel which he had seen in St. Stephen's Green during the Rising. This piece subsequently hung above the fireplace in his home in Sutton until his death some thirty years later.
I don't know what of his fine art might be in the possession of individuals. I haven't been able to trace any sales. But as far as any pieces in the public realm are concerned, I only managed to find the one, the peasant woman's head at the top of this post. I must thank Dr. Margarita Cappock for finding this, buried deep in the Hugh Lane (formerly the Municipal) gallery in Parnell Square, next to where I went to school.
There seems to have been a considerable amount of Gordon's fine art in his house in Sutton when he died, including nudes from his Metropolitan School days, but these were destroyed by his estrnged wife Biddy in a bonfire in the back garden before she left to return to England, taking the children, Dolores and Richard, and their inheritance, with her.
The end result of all of this is that Gordon is now known exclusively for his cartoons, insofar as he is known at all.
This is less upsetting than it might have been as the cartoons are beautifully rendered and the artist shows through in virtually all of them.
I had the idea to do a book on Gordon and his cartoons after I had seen them in the National Library and after I had done my talk on him in the Library. The furthest I had got at that time was to think of a cover for the book.
My first consideration was that I would use the cartoon above on the cover as it depicts Gordon in the role of a poor artist dependent on philanthropy to finance his art. Not strictly true in his case but, given the destruction of his fine art after his death, it seemed an appropriate cartoon for the occasion.
I then toyed around a little with some text.
And there the matter rested for the next number of years.
Meanwhile, about two years ago, I got involved in Leentje Folens book about her father. And while some might consider this a distraction, it did introduce me to MS Word including layout and graphics which proved invaluable when I did finally get round to my own book.
Leentje wanted the above photo of Albert and Juliette on the cover so we went from the same starting point as where I had stalled on the Brewster book.
Leentje's daughter Juliette had produced some handwritten titles, but unfortunately they didn't translate well to the book cover.
No matter how they were arranged.
So we went for a more conventional approach on the lines of the above.
And I then adapted that for the cover for my book.
Nowadays we, at least most of us, are fairly careful in our use of terminology when referring to "these islands". It's England for that country, Britain for the Island, and UK for the state.
But it was not always so. In my day England was shorthand for all of the above. For example, the Queen was "Queen of England". I never heard the expression Queen of the UK in my life, yet that is what she was. And more besides, as testified to by her father's title on the above 1942 thrupenny bit from my mother's wedding day.
Of course, the other bits were slowly slipping away, some of them inspired by the example of Irish independence. And today the British monarchy is down to the UK itself, a few British Commonwealth countries and a few tax-dodging overseas territories.
For me the Queen will always be Queen of England and her son King of Same.
There was also another usage in operation in Gordon Brewster's time and right through to mine. This was the Roman Catholic view of "Pagan England" the source of all of Ireland's woes.
Once the British had left after Irish independence, nationalists, or at least a significant proportion of them, assumed that they would take their dirty ways with them and Ireland would be distilled into a pure and holy nation state.
However, Brewster's cartoons give lie to that misplaced expectation as he ruthlessly pillories the flow of dirty literature from pagan England.
Just a brief personal story. It was my referring to England, when I was actually in Wales, that led to me getting my first Welsh lesson from the Welsh attendant on the Irish Mail as we sped towards London.
And while I'm into terminology I should point out that "pagan" is a misnomer. We have had the decency to label Communism "Atheistic Communism" yet we give the English credit for a belief in a clatter of Gods they have never heard of nor could name in a fit.
In 2016 I gave my Brewster talk in Howth at a mere 230 metres from The Gem where Gordon died seventy years earlier.
I had taken the initiative in suggesting the talk to the local history society. I was an unknown, but I persuaded the Secretary that it would be a good idea. I gathered later that he did not always have his own way and that the Committee took some persuading.
The night went well and I treasure the Secretary's subsequent remark. He commented that had they known in advance how good the talk was, it would have avoided all the effort in persuading the Committee to take the risk with me.
Compliments come in different forms. The thing is to be alert to them.
Coláiste Mhuire was a good school. We had an orchestra, periodically examined by an extern. But then we had the Pit Orchestra. A loose assembly of serious musicians and messers, all out to enjoy themselves accompanying whatever action was going on onstage. The sheer joy and enthusiasm of it is hard to convey.
The formal stuff was onstage. The formal orchestra doing a piece by Beethoven or whoever. The quartet with its Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and endless restarts in which I played second fiddle.
But the Pit Orchestra, accompanying the onstage gymnastics, was a bit like jazz. A collection of individuals, each expressing themselves to their heart's content but producing the miracle of coherent sound, never to be repeated.
I just loved it.
So I think I can claim to empathise with Gordon Brewster and his liberated first violinist.
Gordon gets it so right.
And that is just a tiny detail in one of his political cartoons.
Gordon's Death Cert Click on image for a larger version
Wikipedia, when I looked it up, assured me that Gordon had died in Sutton. This was most likely because the writer knew that Gordon lived in Sutton, so presumably he had died there. As I know only too well from my research into family and local history, it is unwise to make assumptions and peddle them without corroboration.
As it happened, I knew only too well where Gordon had died. On the fatal day, he had left his house in Sutton and gone to Howth to buy sweets for his children. As he was purchasing the sweets in the sweetshop he collapsed and died.
Died? Or was he suddenly taken ill, was carted off to hospital only to be pronounced DOA?
Well, there was one way to find out, and that was to check out his death certificate, which is what I did
So I can now confidently state that the artist Gordon Brewster died in The Gem on Bloomsday 1946.
The Gem was a sweetshop in Howth, run by my mother between 1942 and 1949. So Gordon died in the Mammy's shop and that is why I was sort of curious about him down the years. In truth, I knew next to nothing about him except
"Gordon Brewster, the artist, died in the Mammy's shop"
It was a strange feeling, being nervous about meeting someone for the first time.
In response to my asking about the Brewster family, Honora Faul, the lady then in charge of the NLI collection of Gordon's cartoons, told me they would be over from England at the weekend and would love to meet me. Apparently they came over every so often to visit Gordon's grave in Kilbarrack.
I jumped at the opportunity and that's how I found myself sitting in my car, outside the Marine Hotel in Sutton on 23th March 2013, feeling nervous.
But why nervous? That puzzled me. I don't normally have any difficulty meeting new people. So what was going on here?
I think I finally worked it out. Gordon Brewster had been a sort of ghostly presence in the family over the years. I knew his name, that he was an artist, and that he had died in the Mammy's shop. But who was he really? What was he doing in the shop? Had he known my parents? And if so, what was the connection.
There was so much about him that I didn't know. I had fleshed him out a little bit when I went through his cartoons in the National Library, but now I was to meet the family. I desperately hoped that this meeting would lead to me getting to know Gordon better. After all, I had come to like him from being through the cartoons. What if his family didn't like me? Or me them? What then? Was that the end of the line? I figured that was what was bugging me.
In the end, I needn't have worried. Four generations of Brewsters turned up that night: Dolores, Gordon's daughter then in her eighties; Lynne, Dolores' daughter; Katrina, Lynne's daughter; and Lottie, Katrina's daughter. And we all got on like a house on fire.
Dolores was really something and she and I chatted into the night. I was to meet her again a few times over the few years until she died in 2016 and we got on so well that she was still passing on information to me virtually from her death bed; she was gone within a week of our last communication.
My book has now gone to the printers and I hope to have it out in about the next month.
My objective is to introduce Gordon to a modern audience by analysing his cartoons and outlining some of his life's story.
He died suddenly and tragically in my mother's shop in 1946. His estranged wife returned from England to deal with his affairs and, in the words of his daughter, "claim the children", who she took back to England with her.
Gordon then sank into complete obscurity until NLI acquired the collection of his originals. Since then some of his cartoons have appeared in books and elsewhere, but his magnificent work deserves more universal recognition.
I hope my book will contribute in some small way to this.
Check out Gordon's collection online at the National Library of Ireland.
