If you could freeze-frame the arrival of the funeral cortege of Jack McManus on last Tuesday (March 22nd) into Aughrim you would have a good photograph of the life of the man. Led through the immaculately tidy town by a lone piper in spring sunshine, with a cross on the overlooking hill, key elements of Jack's life are contained in that frame.
Born Kevin McManus, he grew up in the Co Wicklow town, enjoying an idyllic country childhood. Educated at Aughrim NS, Dominican Wicklow and later Blackrock College, his father Kevin, a photographer with the Irish Independent, spotted an advertisement for a photographic assistant at The Irish Times in July 1950. Kevin was dispatched for interview, got the job and adopted the name Jack to distinguish him from his father of the same name in the same profession.
Jack quickly learned the ropes and before long graduated from darkroom to property photography and on to news, features and personalities. As a photographer, he was known as a perfectionist. He took huge care in creating his images – they were always stylishly composed and carefully arranged. As Jack would have started out with sheet film Speed Graphic cameras he never wasted film and when the Graphic gave way to the Rollei and then 35mm Nikon he became famous for fitting up to five assignments on a single roll of film. His assignments over the years saw him photograph a great variety of subjects, but it was arguably in his portraiture of personalities that Jack especially excelled.
From his beautifully composed 1953 images of the designer Sybil Connolly to his 1990s’ photograph of businessman Sean Quinn atop his cement empire you can see Jack’s charm at work in getting his subject’s active co-operation. His rare 1988 portrait session of a smiling Van Morrison reportedly ended abruptly when the musician sharply refused to step outside into the sunshine for a different backdrop. But the person who walked away at that point was Jack, not Van. The encounter shows several key sides to Jack’s personality.
Probably one of the last true Gentlemen of the Press, he detested bad manners – any sign of rudeness genuinely offended him. Always immaculately turned out, often in tweeds and almost always in jacket and tie, Jack took great pride in his role as effective ambassador for this newspaper. His father advised him as he set out on his career that he must be properly attired with shoes shining because “You never know when you might meet the President”. The comment was prescient, as much later Jack photographed Paddy Hillery and the president took time out to compliment the photographer on his shoe shine.
Jack’s stunning 1971 portrait of a young Seamus Heaney prompted the poet to write him a beautiful letter, declaring Jack a “f***ing genius” and seeking to buy a few prints. Other notable images include the John F Kennedy visit, an encounter between Charlie Haughey and Geraldine Kennedy and an exuberant portrait of Pádraig Flynn.
In his home life Jack loved Wicklow with a passion. When he married Sue in 1960 they settled initially in Dublin, but his homing beacon drew them back to Aughrim, where they acquired a site and set about building a home by direct labour.
The steely side of Jack’s personality could be seen in his house-building efforts as he waged a 10-year campaign with Wicklow County Council to gain planning permission for a key site overlooking the town. A founder member of Aughrim Tidy Towns committee, he was a passionate volunteer for 28 years, seeing Aughrim go from strength to strength until they gained the ultimate award in 2007.
Although nominally his role was PRO, he was one of the driving forces who turned a swamp into a park setting with what is now the National Disabled Angling Facility. From his retirement in 1997 until his recent illness, Jack could be seen more than ever around the town in boiler suit, paintbrush in hand.
His illness also brought a halt to his other great passion of set-dancing. Right up to his late 70s Jack travelled the length and breadth of the land to dancing competitions. A remarkably fit man all his life, his handshake was a bone-crusher. Jack had a deep faith and attended Mass daily. At the requiem Mass, the celebrant Fr Colm Allman remarked on one of Jack’s pictures of that cross overlooking the town. To get the picture in the perfect light Jack climbed the hill again and again and again until he got it right. He was that kind of guy.
He is survived by his wife, Sue, brother, Michael, sister Una and children Ashley, Kevin and Lynn.
See a selection of pictures by Jack McManus at irishtimes/com/news/galleries