Obituary: Donal Musgrave’s gift will live long after him

In his many decades as a working journalist — Donal would have regarded that longevity as a happy circumstance rather than an achievement — he reported on huge change in almost every aspect of society. When he began writing for The Catholic Herald, Ireland was a poor, insular, agrarian, half-educated country. 

The contribution he and his peers made, by goading, by comparing, by looking beyond the local council chamber, by constantly asking why things could not be better, and by refusing to doff the cap to the old, authoritarian Ireland, should not be underestimated by those enjoying a very different Ireland today.

Great social change, and newfound tolerance and inclusion, did not happen by accident, it was driven by people like Donal Musgrave. It is a sobering reminder, though, of how difficult delivering that change can be that Donal’s first major project as a journalist, reporting on a week living rough on the streets of 1960s London, may be even more relevant today than it was then.

That commitment to social justice was not, as it so often is for ambitious young journalists, an early-career fad for Donal. His commitment to ending disadvantage informed all of his work with The Irish Press in London, as The Irish Times’ Munster correspondent, the Sunday Tribune and, as it was when he joined it, The Cork Examiner and later, The Examiner and The Irish Examiner. 

Indeed, some of his later pieces for this newspaper read as if they were written by a young idealist rather than a mature, urbane, experienced commentator. He was equally passionate in his unrelenting opposition to violence. 

He, like many of his peers who saw terrorism at first-hand, reserved particular bile for those who today would rewrite history. A committed and practical European, he celebrated Ireland’s membership of the EEC. Equally, he was disheartened by Brexit and the nativism underpinning it.

Donal was the second of two boys born to Máiréad (née Foley) and Harry Musgrave, of Newcastle West, Co Limerick. After his father’s death, when he was just three months old, Donal’s mother returned to An Rinn, Co Waterford, to live with two sisters and her mother. Donal was a pupil at Blackrock College — his mother worked in England to fund his education — Coláiste na Rinne and later Maynooth, but his days in Waterford were formative. 

One legacy was an interest in Irish, which he wore lightly. It occasionally surfaced when he gently corrected his fellow anglers’ mispronunciation of the names of the rivers and pools of his beloved Mayo waters, which he fished for salmon each year. Sharing those trips to Bangor Erris with his beloved Shirley and son Darragh were one of the great pleasures of his life.

Indeed, salmon, as they so often are, were decisive in shaping his and Shirley’s 53 years together. Donal married Shirley Tait in London in November 1967. They soon moved to Dublin but, as he wrote later, their dream was to buy a riverbank cottage within a quarter of an hour of a city that might provide employment. 

That ambition brought them to Cork in 1969 when they bought a home at Inniscarra, where they created the most magnificent garden on the banks of the Lee. In that garden Donal had a table made from a stone worktop that came from sculptor Seamus Murphy’s studio, The Scullery, in Cork’s Blackpool. “It’s from Seamus’ straight period,” he would chortle with an equally straight face.

This, and his extensive record collection, offered a glimpse to another side of his life, one deeply interested in culture and the arts. Those interests included golf, he was a member of Muskerry GC, though he was more a clubhouse golfer than a competitive one.

That move south was propitious in many ways but it, in one unexpected and cherished way, has left a legacy that ripples through Irish journalism to this day. Donal was an excellent reporter, analyst, leader writer, and, for a long time, news editor but he left his deepest mark as a mentor. 

His quiet wisdom, his boundless understanding and encouragement, rescued many a struggling novice. His calming, nudging voice helped generation after generation find their feet in what can be an isolating business.

One of those he influenced, during her time with The Cork Examiner, was Geraldine Kennedy, who went on to be the first woman to editor of The Irish Times. 

“Donal gave me great encouragement in my early years in The Cork Examiner,” Ms Kennedy said in recent days. “I must have been about 20… I would never have become editor of The Irish Times without his personal interest in my work. I am very pleased that I wrote to him to tell him that when I became editor in 2002.”

Tim Vaughan, former editor of The Irish Examiner, was equally fulsome: “Donal was exceptional, full stop. 

Brilliant, erudite, cultured, wise, and such great company. He was also utterly charming — and an incorrigible rogue, with those mischievous, dancing eyes. 

"His news sense was razor-sharp, of course, but his legacy will be the encouragement he so generously gave to many young reporters, always inspiring them to do better.”

Those views were widely and sincerely reflected by many of those lucky enough to have known him in recent days. They were echoed by President Michael D Higgins when he said that Donal was “recognised as a mentor to many in journalism, he will be remembered for a professionalism that included a kindness and a deep concern for the issues on which he reported”.

Donal spent the last period of his life in St Luke’s nursing home where because of pandemic restrictions, his family and friends could not visit as often as they, or he, would have wished. Like so many others in that position, it was a particular ordeal, especially for someone so enlivened by nature and the outdoor life — a characteristic made real by even his gait. 

He, even in the tightest of spaces, had the long, reaching stride of a man who wanted to reach the next horizon.

A little over three years ago, in May 2017, he acknowledged that the onset of Parkinson’s Disease was changing his life. That realisation offered one final opportunity to mentor those around him. 

He faced his final difficulties with the great courage, the tremendous dignity and an absolute absence of self-pity that had defined his life and work. A life well lived, a legacy well recognised and cherished.

Donal is survived by his wife Shirley, their children Katie and Darragh, son-in-law Paul Galligan, daughter-in-law Emer Maher, and five grandsons — Oisín, Ronan, Fionn, Aaron, and Cian.

— Jack Power