Opinion

William Scholes: Jim Fitzpatrick was a 'man for all seasons'

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama is greeted by members of the Children in Crossfire Board, including Jim Fitzpatrick together with Richard Moore at the Compassion in Action Conference lunch in Derry in 2017. Picture by Lorcan Doherty.
His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama is greeted by members of the Children in Crossfire Board, including Jim Fitzpatrick together with Richard Moore at the Compassion in Action Conference lunch in Derry in 2017. Picture by Lorcan Doherty. His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama is greeted by members of the Children in Crossfire Board, including Jim Fitzpatrick together with Richard Moore at the Compassion in Action Conference lunch in Derry in 2017. Picture by Lorcan Doherty.

JIM Fitzpatrick - father, husband, visionary newspaper proprietor, solicitor, entrepreneur, child of Christ, relentless optimist - was, like his great hero St Thomas More, a man for all seasons.

To us at The Irish News he was also 'The Chairman'. Despite his repeated requests, like many other colleagues I was never entirely comfortable calling him 'Jim'.

'Mr Fitzpatrick' felt somehow more appropriate. Not because he was aloof or distant - for he was emphatically the opposite - but because he was a gentleman in the truest sense, blessed with gravitas and grace, and who inspired genuine, unbidden respect.

He not only knew all the staff by name, but also took an interest in their families and lives outside Donegall Street. That sense of warmth was reciprocated. Mr Fitzpatrick's final visit, last month, to the offices of the newspaper he indelibly transformed was a poignant occasion.

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Amid handshakes and hugs - and some tears - he looked round the newsroom and said wistfully, and with the sincere modesty that so deeply characterised him, "I can't believe you're all here for me..."

It is tempting to look for the poetry in the passing of significant figures. Mr Fitzpatrick died exactly 40 years after gaining control of The Irish News. He moved into his office a few days later on June 29, a date he chose because it was the feast of Saints Peter and Paul and he wished to start his ownership of the paper under their patronage. That fact alone is a hint that Mr Fitzpatrick was not a conventional newspaper proprietor.

Like St Thomas More, he was guided by his conscience - which is really another way of saying he was guided by his faith - and doing what he believed right.

Mr Fitzpatrick's unique set of talents would have seen him achieve extraordinary things in any field. It was this newspaper's good fortune that he set his sights on The Irish News.

One clearly has to have strong commercial and editorial instincts to succeed in the publishing world, but in Mr Fitzpatrick's case that was woven together with the unshakeable belief that a newspaper - this one in particular - could be a force for good in the community.

From a lesser person this could have sounded like hopeless idealism, or even naivety; from Mr Fitzpatrick, however, it was merely expressing an inevitability, like the rising of a new dawn. He did have a romantic streak, but being a doer as well as a dreamer is what sets the great apart from the merely good.

New staff would get a flavour of this during an induction programme which included time with the Chairman. After offering a warm welcome, he would explain how he became involved in the paper and his vision for the title.

I vividly remember my own 'Chairman on the Mount' session and how it was infused by both his unapologetic Christian faith and a sense of family.

As I got to know him better, he would talk of his growing sense during the 1960s that, as Northern Ireland spiralled towards the Troubles, he felt compelled to do something to arrest the decline, and his epiphany that The Irish News was a means to help achieve this.

'Epiphany' is the correct word to use of a man who was guided throughout his long life by a devout Christian faith which was the whetstone for a rare sense of purpose and conviction.

He had, unsurprisingly, tested his vocation to the priesthood. After some soul-searching he concluded that life as a Redemptorist priest was not his calling, and he trained as a solicitor for his father's firm.

He married Alice Murphy in 1957; they had met at the Catholic Chaplaincy at Queen's University, then located in Fitzroy Avenue, where the future Mrs Fitzpatrick was distributing Legion of Mary diaries.

The connection to the Redemptorists was deeply important to Mr Fitzpatrick, and a firm friendship with Fr Gerry Reynolds and others at Clonard Monastery in west Belfast proved crucial in some of the behind-the-scenes peace work in which he became involved.

This included the pivotal talks at Clonard between John Hume and Gerry Adams, without which the Good Friday Agreement would not have been possible.

He had been involved for decades in numerous similar initiatives. Occasionally, he would mention in conversation something he had helped with, for example, during the 1970s. But it was a mark of the man that any further inquiry would be rebuffed. "I don't want to be interviewed about it," he told me more than once in response to gentle questioning. He would shrug off suggestions he should write a book about his experiences.

Modesty and humility were among the virtues that Mr Fitzpatrick was most comfortable wearing - he did not dress for the limelight, much less expect it.

This attitude - particularly from someone who employed journalists - ought to have been frustrating, but it was entirely consistent with his determination to live out the Christian imperative 'to not let the right hand know what the left hand was doing'. Countless acts of quiet generosity and private philanthropy over the years tell the same story.

As he sought to become more involved in The Irish News during the 1970s, he set about training as a journalist and learning the workings of each part of the business. Later, he became a very hands-on managing editor.

As his own role evolved to Chairman and the paper continued to modernise, he maintained a very close interest in the content of the paper, coming daily into the office until recently. Mr Fitzpatrick enjoyed a bowl of soup in the company canteen, on the top floor of the Donegall Street offices, and would talk over that day's leader column or a particular news story or column. "What do you think of that? What should we be saying about this?" You needed to be on your mettle for these conversations…

Mr Fitzpatrick could, as you soon discovered, talk to anyone about anything. That was among his gifts. He was as comfortable discussing the doctrine of justification and Steiff teddy bears as he was Brexit and how the Catholic Church needed to do more about the Second Vatican Council.

The paper's motto since 1891, 'Pro fide et patria', printed above the leader column, was important to him, though he would tell me more than once that it was the 'Pro fide' - 'for faith' - part "that really matters".

And no-one could ever doubt the reality of Jim Fitzpatrick's faith. He was an embodiment of St Francis of Assisi's exhortation to 'preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary use words'.

He was a good preacher too, however, and wouldn't miss an opportunity to share his faith in his own gentle way. When Mrs Fitzpatrick, with whom he shared a deep faith, died in 2013, he gave out copies of a book by the Jesuit Fr Brian Grogan called Where To From Here? The Christian Vision of Life After Death.

"A beautiful read. Enjoy," smiles the message inside the copy he gave me, in a happy tone some may think at odds with the circumstances. Yet it was entirely consistent with this most singular man's vivid faith and his unwavering belief that there is indeed life after death.

At Mrs Fitzpatrick's funeral, Fr Gerry Reynolds spoke of how the couple's long and happy married life was "a song of love", and that "the great Commandment of love was their guiding star".

As he might himself have put it, that star has now guided him from his earthly home to his eternal rest. It has called him to that better place where there is no more pain and no more tears, and where Jim is reunited with Alice for a glorious new verse of their song of love.