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It will be with considerable
sadness and regret for contemporaries to hear of the death recently of an extremely
charismatic and extraordinary man who was associated with Finchden Manor from
1938 until 1952. Like most people he came for help and left having himself helped
so many.
Michael Anthony Fitzgerald was born in 1917 with such appallingly deformed
legs that he had to undergo a dozen or so operations in childhood to try to straighten
them. As a result he wore calipers and surgical boots but he walked without a
stick. As an adult his upper legs and body were those of a six foot man though
in height he was only five foot six. However, at the age of forty he decided
to have his legs amputated below the knee and for the rest of his life he had
two false legs which increased his height to just over the magical six feet. "When
I'm old," he used to say," I won't have arthritis I'll get metal fatigue." At
ninety he still walked without a stick.
Of Irish stock, he was born into a successful
and financially comfortable family. His father was a director of the Rootes group,
manufacturers of Hillman, Talbot London and Commer vehicles. His mother came
from a very poor background and had, in fact, been bought from her natural parents
for five pounds! He had two elder brothers and, from the beginning, no allowances
were made for his disability and he learned to swim and kick a football about
and to defend himself against the good natured but physicality ks of his robust
siblings. When it came to school due consideration had to be given and while
Carol and Brian went to the bracing, manly atmosphere of Downside on the east
scarp of Mendip, Michael went to the much gentler and arts centred Bedales. His
love of the theatre stemmed from his time there.
On leaving Bedales he trained to be a palmist which is less strange
than it appears at first sight. There were many undercurrents in western life
at that time which had their roots in the Arts and Crafts movement, pacifism
and the growth of alternative healing. Also, after the Great War of 1914-18 the
huge number of ex-soldiers needing treatment for mental problems brought about
by the horrors of those years saw an unprecedented advance in psychological treatments.
Palmistry was seen as one, whereby it was possible to assess character and patterns
of deviation from the norm so that sympathetic and individual help could be given.
No one knowing George Lyward would suggest, that as an employer, he left other
than a lot to be desired Roy management was his supreme gift not man management.
His staff were underpaid, lived among the boys and were often left in no doubt
as to their inadequacies. Fortunately for him, those who worked for him did so
for other reasons than career advancement. Fitz, as he was always known, joined
the staff fairly shortly after coming to Tenterden in 1938 and quickly learn
the frustrations of working at Finchden Manor. Luckily, he had a motor car, a
Hillman Minx, and could always get away on his days off. He also liked to have
a winter holiday, skiing in Switzerland with
the family. What an extraordinary sight he must have been hopping on to a ski
lift with skis, poles, surgical boots and all.
He left during the second world
war and worked at Stoke Mandeville where the eminent surgeon, Archibald Maclndoe,
gave new faces and bodies to terribly burned airmen while Fitz worked to help
them restore some confidence in themselves and to take up life again. War over,
he came back to Finchden, or rather Marrington Hall, to where it had been evacuated.
In 1947, the House returned to Tenterden with Michael as GL's number two. It
was, on occasion, no less frustrating than before. Fitz was never a man to contain
his anger and on one occasion he felt so badly treated, he relieved himself,
as they say, on GL's office carpet. It says much for them both that they both
saw its funny, and truthful side, and always laughed about it afterwards.
pic: Gabby Kessler
Fitz was practical while
George Lyward was a mystic. Not for him the notion that outside Finchden was
a world no one need concern themselves with. He strongly felt that it was very
important to consider the down to earth aspects of life afterwards. Jobs had
to be found as well as somewhere to live. He always urged people to save twenty
pounds in their first job. That way, they could look for another one while still
eating and paying the rent. He also believed that playacting and drama were very
useful therapies as well as being tremendously good fun. He directed very many
plays and revue pieces. He bought a 16 mm camera and made a gung ho WWII would-be
epic film, on location in Rye. It was no small feat to persuade GL to let him
take a dozen people away for a month in 1951 to perform Men in Shadow on tour.
A strong point might have been that he paid for most of it himself.
He purchased a prewar Commer lorry which Peter Goddard converted to
a people, props, costume and stage set carrier, and a marvellous job Peter made
of it. It was a brute to drive though and Fitz had to do all the driving. There
was one moment on the tour in the Cotswolds when his legs were not really strong
enough to operate the fading brakes on a hilly section near Chipping Camden.
Fortunately, the handbrake held or the whole thing might have ended there. It
also broke down in Oxford. Just as they do now, garages wanted paying before
they allowed a repaired vehicle to be taken away. Fitz didn't have the money
in cash, while a cheque would have taken days to cash. Luckily, Tony Wakeham
was one of the cast and he, as those who knew him will readily testify, had about
thirty pounds in two shilling coins concealed about him. It was enough - the
tour was saved.
pic: Gabby Kessler
He loved cars and,
over the years, had a succession of sporting conveyances. A great favourite was
a 1937 2.5 litre MG four seater Tickford saloon. One Boxing day Fitz took Tony
Grosse, Adrian Harwood and Michael Davies out for a spin in the morning. It lasted
all day and at one point on the Thanet way between Margate and Canterbury Fitz
noticed the temperature gauge was on the cool side of normal. Pushing it into
third gear he blasted for the next four miles at the heady speed of sixty miles
an hour. Third, mind in 1952 that was some speed in a lower gear. There was also
a great and totally irresponsible race between his Minx and Peter Goddard's 1933
J type MG from High Halden to Ashford. It was both a privilege and a joy to have
been a passenger and
witnessed Fitz's complete disregard for life and limb (or anyone else's for that
matter) and Peter Goddard's superb skill with a marvellous but tricky little
sports car.
It was some time in the following year that Michael left Finchden
to set a community of his own. Tilton was a big house with grounds near the Sussex
town of Battle. Here, he was able to put his own ideas into operation and soon
had a number of troubled boys, younger then those GL took in. Unfortunately for
him and the boys, his legs let him down and the great decision was made to have
them amputated to b substituted by tin ones. But he had to make an even tougher
decision; to close Tilton after only two years.
However, he made a remarkable, if not fast,
recovery from the operation and the enormous physical and mental effort involved
in learning to walk - and drive again was obvious to anyone he visited him during
those days Those who have seen Reach for the Sky will have some idea of what
he had to go through. He was as enormously helped by Michael Gomer, who gave
up all his time to nursing Fitz, and coping with his uncertain temper and frustration.
Fitz always paid unreserved tribute to 'Micky' who died at a tragically young
age.
On recovery, Fitz went
to work in the children's department of the Greater London Council. He was, as
may be imagined, no ordinary local government officer and, with his personality
and disregard for established practice, big changes in dealing with the increasing
number of disadvantaged and disturbed children and young adults in London resulted.
The Fitzgerald Project, officially recognized and practised as long as the GLC
did until Lady Thatcher closed it down, by which time Fitz had retired and been
awarded a well deserved OBE.
Michael also involved
himself, on a spare time basis, with the management of several young, promising
boxers. One or two were genuine contenders although, as they are the first to
admit, none quite fulfilled their promise but they remained his friends. Like
all good therapists, Fitz never judged and always looked beyond with what might
seem the weaknesses of those people he was involved with and concentrated on
their strengths..
He retired to Fowey and shared a quaint seafront
cottage with his friend and colleague from GLC days, Beryl Paul. There, he involved
himself with the young of Fowey and did much to establish facilities for them
outside school. He also 'managed', the efforts of a couple of Fowey men to build
a boat and compete in the first Chay Blythe trans -Atlantic rowing race. No small
effort this, involving hundreds of letters and visits to potential sponsors as
well as constantly reviving the flagging enthusiasm of the two competitors. Somehow,
they got to the start line. Their voyage was traumatic and, at times, harrowing
but they finished; a great achievement, and Michael was delighted for them.
An increasing number
of physical problems made Fitz, with Beryl's approval, decide to move to a bungalow
in Perlynt, across the estuary. Here Beryl made a new set of friends through
the local church and Fitz enjoyed the easier house and flat garden. But his eyesight
gave increasing trouble, and his right hand became very twisted with arthritis
while his back, always a source of trouble, became worse. It was a great blow
to him when Beryl died suddenly of a heart attack. She had not shown any signs
of illness and was a rock to Fitz. She too, was able to take his irritability
in good part and, even more importantly for Fitz, read the Times to him every
day when he was not able to read it himself or watch TV.
So now I
learn, through Finchden's web site, that he has himself died. I kept in regular
touch with Fitz all through the years. He drove up from London to to Coventry
with some old Finchdonians when I had my first professional part in the local
repertory company. I stayed at Tilton and worked on local farms during the close
season. In London, we irregularly ate together and went to the theatre. After
he retired to Cornwall, I used to go down with John Trefor, later on my own,
to visit him in Fowey and Perlynt. When he rang to tell me that Beryl had died
I said I'd pop down and we made a date. A couple of days before, he rang to ask
me not to go. He just found it too difficult to cope with anything beyond the
immediate and totally necessary. I sent a few postcards afterwards whenever I
was away from home but I heard no more from him.
I genuinely loved Michael Fitzgerald;
I thought he was a remarkable man and one of the four most inspiring people I
have known and, of those four, I am happy to say that Fitz, for me, was the finest
of them all.
Michael Davies
16 October 2007
pic: Gabby Kessler
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