Mother of all the Kitts — the Castleblakeney political matriarch

WHEN I told a colleague I was on my way to interview Bridie Kitt, the woman behind the Kitt political dynasty, he joked that Bridie is the Rose Kennedy of Castleblakeney â€â€ a political royal â€â€ if such a term can be used to describe such a staunch Fianna Fáil republican. On meeting her in her Lehenagh home, which is not only where she reared her family but where she presided over her late husband Mick's political bailiwick, she laughed at the Rose Kennedy reference, saying she'd take it as a compliment. We were off to a good start. As befitting a lady of her status, she received me in her stateroom, while her son, Tuam's Mayor, Eamonn, was dispatched to make the tea. It was immediately apparent that Bridie, who will be 92 in November, needs no mollycoddling. From the outset she confirmed from memory the background details I had checked earlier and corrected one important date that I had carelessly got wrong. Bridie Kitt may be well be into her tenth decade, but little gets past her. That said, she was charm and hospitality itself â€â€ as you'd expect from a woman whose door has been open to friends and strangers alike since she first became a TD's wife in June of 1949. Not just 1949 â€â€ June 1949. She met her late husband at a dance in Galway in January of that year. He was a new TD, elected in 1948, she was nursing in the Regional in Galway. She was introduced to Mick by his sister, Dr Patricia Kitt, who worked in the hospital with Bridie. Oh, and the dance was in the Great Southern Hotel and if space permitted I'd have got a full run-down on the outfit she wore. Bridie was born Brigid Lohan into farming stock at Lissavruggy, Newbridge. She's quick to point out that the Lohans were always Fianna Fáil stalwarts â€â€ and makes sure that detail goes into my notebook. One of 13 children: brothers John, Michael, Pat, Mark, Brendan, Sonny and the late Tommy. Her sisters are: Mary, Lena, Kathleen, Margaret Mary and Ann. After passing an entrance exam she was accepted into nurse training in the Regional in August 1941 â€â€ sorry August 1, 1941 â€â€ and spent three years in general nurse training and one year doing what she calls fever nursing. She is philosophical about her training, recalling that it was strict, difficult and could be back-achingly physical. Trainee nurses had one half-day off a week and one full day every month. 'We had to watch our p's and q's and be in by 9.30 pm when training,' she said. On completion of her training she was offered a hospital post straight away. 'The work was in me and I think the sisters saw that,' she says, adding that she found that caring for patients came naturally to her and this trait served her well when she began dealing with constituents. Smiling, she remembers purchasing a bicycle with her first proper month's wages and cycling it home to Newbridge on one occasion to show off her newfound prosperity: these were much more innocent times. Bridie's nursing career came to an end when after a mere six-month courtship she married Mick Kitt, swapping her thermometer and bedside manner for the pen, phone and sympathetic ear which were the prerequisites for a TD's wife then â€â€ and now. She says she found the transition easy. She transferred the caring approach, which made her such an accomplished nurse, into her role as constituency secretary, organiser, manager and all-round right-hand woman. While Mick was in Dublin for three days a week â€â€ sometimes more â€â€ she was the go-to person for his constituents. The house quickly became known as the place to call to if you had a problem. Bridie Kitt would always provide a listening ear, a cup of tea and act as a guide through the bureaucratic red tape that was a lot more complex over 60 years ago than it is today. Another colleague has since told me that there are still some constituents who prefer to have Bridie intercede on their behalf than approach her son Micheál directly. The word is that if Bridie orders it, the job is as good as done. There were rare lapses in her care for constituents. Once, she recalls, she had to interrupt a consultation with a constituent to go and feed her children. Other chores distracted her until some time later she remembered the poor man left waiting in the other room. She hurried in only to find him fast asleep. I'd imagine whatever his issue was, it was resolved pretty quickly after that. She reflects that their door was always open to callers. Sunday after Mass and right through the afternoon was the busiest day, but the family grew accustomed to people dropping in at all hours and being made welcome. 'We accepted that if we were going to keep the people with us we had to do what we could, no matter when they called. That was the life but it was enjoyable and there's no complaining,' she says. Into this busy schedule Bridie fitted the rearing of her seven children: Micheál, Maura, Tom, ÃÂine, Liam, Éamonn and Proinsias. All born, she says proudly, in the Grove in Tuam and all sent to Killasolan NS, where their father taught before entering national politics, in an effort to keep the numbers up and the school open â€â€ which it still is. The lot of a TD's spouse has changed enormously over the years. Bridie recalls the issuing of stamped envelopes to deputies as a major milestone at the time. Today each TD has an allowance to employ a secretary in their constituency and has secretarial support in the Dáil. Bridie was expected to carry out all the functions they do â€â€ but for no pay. She even had to budget for the stamps from her housekeeping money. Matters improved somewhat when Mick was promoted in 1970 to Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister for the Gaeltacht (today's Junior Minister) in the reshuffle necessitated by the upheavals in Fianna Fáil as a result of the Arms Crisis. He served in this position until 1973. Tragedy struck the Kitt family on Christmas Eve 1974 when, aged just 60, Mick Kitt died suddenly at home. Naturally, for someone with such a fine memory, the wound is still raw. The by-election caused by his death saw their son Micheál take his father's seat and the next generation carries on the tradition of public service. Another son, Tom, was elected to the Dáil in 1987 and he held a series of high-profile ministries before his decision to retire from politics at the last election in 2011. ÃÂine Kitt (Brady) entered the political arena in 2007 and was elected as TD for Kildare. Her husband Gerry Brady is also a former TD. ÃÂine lost her seat in 2011 but is still very active in politics. Eamonn Kitt is the current Mayor of Tuam and a Fianna Fáil member of Tuam Town Council. 'It is an interesting and enjoyable life. We're lucky in that our extended family all pitch in and offer great support. That makes it easier but we'd be here all day if I had to name all who deserve mention for their contribution. All I can say is, it's greatly appreciated,' says Bridie. When asked if she still has a taste for politics she unhesitatingly answers in the affirmative. One of her greatest delights was seeing her son Micheál survive the cull of Fianna Fáil in the last election and be returned for Galway East. While the party took a battering, the Kitt name weathered the storm. She tells of going into Mass on the evening of the count not knowing if her son would hold his seat and of a late-comer whispering the news to her that he 'was safe'. Whether his redemption resulted from her prayers or from the affection the family is held in throughout the constituency, Bridie won't speculate. She is still an avid follower of news and current affairs, reads as many papers as she can, including The Tuam Herald â€â€ she tells me with a delicately raised eyebrow. I take this as a warning shot and move quickly on. Jousting with her sons is one thing but taking on the power behind the throne would be sheer folly. Before leaving I get a tour of her photo gallery, which consists of various Kitts pictured with the great and the good over the years. It all adds up to an impressive and formidable legacy, which is testament to her family's commitment to public service, headed up by an impressive and formidable lady who's still up for the fray as the next generation of Kitts begins to loom on the political horizon. It's not from the wind they get it.