MUCH BELOVED PRIEST

Taranaki Daily News, 16 August 1933, Page 10

MUCH BELOVED PRIEST

“REAL FATHER O’FLYNN.” END OF LIFE’S GREAT WORK. In a London nursing home which'he himself had founded there died, on July 3, the man who has 'been known for nearly half a century as “The Saint of Bermondsey.” Deceased was Canon Edward Mumane, late Rector of the Dockhead Roman Catholic Church, known and loved by every man, woman and child in the squalid area where he had lived and worked. He was 81 years of age. Long ago, writes an Evening News representative, the children invented their own version of “Father O’Flynn” and dedicated it to their beloved Father Mumane. It went like this: “ . , . powerfullest preacher and tinderest teacher and kindliest creature in all Bermondsey . . .” And for his unfailing sense of humour and good fellowship he was known in every Roman. Catholic community in the land as the Father O’Flynn of real life. Although Father Mumane was ascetic, almost monastic in his own life, he had ever a ready appreciation of the creature needs of others. Money to him meant everything—and nothing. Nothing at all so far as himself was concerned, everything when it came to helping others. Apart from the very barest necessities of life, he spent nothing on himself, every penny went to helping some unfortunate along the road of life. In Dockhead, as the news of Father Mumane’s death gradually spread, there was little sadness. For them, he died some three years ago when his -mind came under a cloud and he knew them no more. For these years he had lain in darkness, tended by the sisters at the Southwark Nursing Home, which was one of his early inspirations. At the home there was a' long stream of those who knew and loved him, bearing flowers. .•' ■ . . .’ '

Tales of Father Mumane would fill a volume. For his self-sacrificing work among the courts and alleys of Dockhead he was made a canon, but he used his title only once a . year, when the bishop came to his parish, and with it the scarlet and ermine of his rank. For the rest of the year he called himself, and asked to be called—just Father Murnane.

The roughest customers' of Dockhead deceased could tame with a glance, and there are stories to-day in the district of his uncanny influence in preventing Strife and bloodshed. To shout “Police” was often worse than useless in Dockhead. To whisper .“Here comes Father Murnane" was magic.