For eight years I sat beside Philip O'Flynn in the old Queen's chorus girls' dressing room (stage-right and up one flight). There could be anything from eight to 10 actors in that room. Philip was my mentor, best critic and friend.
My first role in the Abbey at the Queen's was in Joseph Tomelty's play Is The Priest At Home? Philip played the eponymous priest, which meant he was on stage from beginning to end, attending to a stream of visitors. He did so effortlessly, authoritatively, and with great relaxation and charm.
So mature, and yet he was still in his twenties. It's hard to believe it now. Removing our make-up he might say, "You were down tonight." "Was I?" "Yes .. . and slow" - and from Philip I took it very seriously. That was the Abbey's way: pass on your wisdom.
The year was 1955 and the next venture was a production of The Plough and the Stars directed by Ria Mooney and destined for the Paris Theatre Festival. Philip played Fluther Good, and he was definitive in the role. I shall never forget the opening scene with Marie Kean as Jenny Grogan; that pair were the greatest exponents of O'Casey's rhythms that I have ever heard. It was a huge hit in Paris.
Philip O'Flynn was the backbone of the Abbey company at the Queen's. Ray MacAnnally had not yet developed into the great actor he eventually became. Philip was a natural leader as well, and we were a predominantly young company.
Of course, there were factions and some people resented Philip's forthrightness. But Ernest Blythe (then the Abbey's artistic director) had great respect for him and he was one of the few actors he would give heed to.
At that time, Ria Mooney was given a hopeless task. She was directing every play with only two hours' rehearsal each day. We simply were not getting direction and we were not happy.
Philip hatched a scheme. It was simply to lure Frank Dermody back to the Abbey, and at the same time to convince Blythe that this was necessary. In the summer of 1956, four of us met Dermody in London and he eventually became excited by the idea.
On our return, Philip won Blythe over and Dermody came back to the Abbey. This led to a watershed production. For the first time in years the Abbey would do a non-Irish play (albeit one with an Irish connection): Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night. Philip played James Tyrone, Ria was his wife Mary, Vincent Dowling was Edmund, I was Jamie, and Kathleen Barrington was Cathleen the maid. Dermody directed. We had seven to eight weeks' rehearsal, unheard of in those days. It was a success beyond our dreams. James Tyrone is described in the notes as being 65 but looking 10 years younger. Philip was prematurely bald, he wore no make-up, and yet he was utterly convincing in the role, which he played with great integrity.
What I am trying to do here is to remind people, and to inform those who are too young to remember, of the enormous contribution made by Philip O'Flynn during the Abbey's years of exile at the Queen's. He was a superb Captain Boyle. The late Donal McCann told me how difficult it was for him to shake off the memory of Philip's reading when he himself played the part.
I left the Abbey in early 1963. Philip was sustained by the belief that everything would change when the Abbey moved into the new building; that would be a new dawn. The move happened in 1966. Sadly for Philip, the new building was not the broad, sunny uplands of his dreams. In fact, the sun rarely shone there. There was a happy respite when he spent months in Kerry filming Ryan's Daughter, but then it was back to a building he had grown to hate.
Philip was married to Angela Newman, a fine actress in the Abbey company. They were inseparable and did everything together. Tragically, Angela died of cancer in April 1979, still in her forties. Philip was never the same man again.
He had always suffered from incipient depression and this tragedy triggered a descent into that black hole Churchill called the Black Dog. Because I had moved to London I didn't see much of him, but I kept in touch. It seems that Philip lost the will to act; there was no joy there any more for him and he gave up.
My memories of him on stage and off it are full of happiness and laughter and gratitude for his wisdom and the great amount I learnt from him. The Abbey Theatre owes him a great debt, since he gave the best years of his life to it. Sleep in peace now, Philip.