Henry's fabulous book is a pictorial treasure of who and what we are

How do you review Henry Wills’ marvellous In All Kinds of Weather? 

Is it a book, is a photographic recollection, or is it a time capsule of the last 50 years of Henry’s devoted service to the Western People? Could you say it’s a historical catalogue of Mayo’s journey from the early 1970s to this week?

Often we forget the written word. Never the photographs. They freeze the moment for posterity. We fill in our version of what happened.

The Western People editor James Laffey is to be commended. This being the 140th anniversary of the Western, Henry’s book is the perfect marker for the paper. One of my treasured books on the shelf is the  Western’s 120th anniversary publication I Remember it Well…Memories of Yesteryear, produced under the stewardship of the previous editor, Terry Reilly. Whilst the 2003 book celebrates some of Henry’s work, it also marks the work of his predecessors in the photographic department. It is now fitting that this current enormous 2023 body of work, history, black, white and colour-eyed through Henry’s camera, is captured and contained within the excellent 352 pages.

Where to start? I actually have no river to guide me here nor will I spoil the treasures contained within the book for those who will buy it as it is a fabulous read come picture journey, as a historical record, as a present for those from Mayo to those abroad or indeed up the road in Sligo. I, the scribe, will simply pull from its pages what ignited the past or indeed the current within myself. 

A little of the past first. My declared interest here. I first met Henry at St Muredach's College in 1967. He had moved from St Nathy's to us. In a class with challenging young bucks, Henry quickly settled on the perch. I was a soccer buff back then as was Henry. Better, Henry had what was a rarity then, a replica West Ham kit.

Having the kit was one thing, filling it another. Henry had pace to burn. An eye for a forward pass and a touch of grit. You didn’t mess with him. He was good to me, brought me down Football Monthly, Goal and latterly Shoot! 

We had the good fortune to fall under the influence of Fr Padraig Loftus, a man ahead of his time. If interested, he gave us the classics, great books that challenged us. He corrected your essays with a purple pencil. My schoolbooks and copies resembled thrash but my essay copy was flawless. Fr Padraig got the best out of us, debating, Shakespeare and then the college plays for three years. Henry and I trod the old Town Hall boards for St Muredach's annual play, mainly comedy farces like Arsenic and Old Lace, All the Kings Horses and The Sport of Kings.

Months of rehearsal spread across three school years binds people together. His ability as an actor saw him on the A-List college actors like the Abbey's Gerry Walsh, David Mullis, Stephen Monds and Billy Kearney, all Muredach's stage kings. Henry filled whatever role with aplomb and I still recall the giddy smile on Fr Padraig’s face as Henry hit the lines first time. I recall the look of angst the poor padre endured with the B-listers such as me, but we always got it right on the night. 

So, I wasn’t surprised Henry was ‘discovered’ by the then Western People editor, the legendary Jim McGuire. The reviews of the college plays, acted out over five nights in the Town Hall to sell-out audiences, were written by Jim. You hoped for a mention. I got one once but, clearly, he saw something in the young Wills that would benefit the Western People. Jim was right.

Henry used his eye and the fruits of In All Kinds of Weather bears this out. How? I’m not sure… beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say, so too is critique. One of the things that leaps out at me as I thumbed through the book was how open and honest were the faces of those who smiled, almost as if they weren’t facing a camera. This I know myself. I draw into myself when my photo gets taken, almost pushing out my inner shield. Henry's ability was to put the subject at ease, thus allowing Henry’s eye, the camera into your soul and trust the camera holder. 

There are numerous examples of this, the President Mary Robinson portfolio, but on page 247 of the book we get the best example. St Muredach's student Tommie Timlin in 2006 showed his inner self confidently as he presented the Primate of All Ireland Sean Brady with a gift. Timlin has an arm around the bishop's shoulder, the bishop a warm handshake with the student and both are at ease in the moment. A photo that catches the shift in relationships with the youth and clergy. Both equals in the moment. Priceless.

For my generation, there’s a train of events brought up by Henry, he refers to Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston in 1963. He recalls that dreadful night of John F Kennedy’s assassination, 60 years ago this month. 'Where were you that night?' goes the question to us alive then. Henry was playing the piano above his pub; my father, fresh off the Ballina bus, ran in the door and told us ‘Turn on the wireless quick …Kennedy's dead’. We were dumbfounded. 

In doing this, Henry sets his book back a tad… laying down the intro track as it were. In other words, he came with a body of work behind him though he was only 20 starting with the Western. He was steeped in current affairs and worldly ways.

What’s breathtaking is that his eye, through the lens, was present at so many life-changing events, papal visits, and Monsignor Horan's dream coming alive at Knock Airport. His account of our First Lady President is humble, joyful and typical of only what a Mayo man could do…access all areas. He charted the hunger strikes that affected Mayo, and the numerous political campaigns, from Garrett's shoe malfunction to Charlie bounding across a quiet Claremorris Street and immersing in the only handful gathered there due to the town's half day. Humorous and not hurtful but iconic. Our own great Mick Lally pictured at The Year of The French. Calm as Miley was Mick. A youthful Cillian Murphy and Anne-Marie Duff in 2004 at the Synge Druid presentation in Geesala. Not alone a fine photographer but a talent scout as well… those two nascent actors were yet to become world famous.

His photo of John Hume, almost in silhouette is stunning. But Henry moved amongst the masses too. Our own Blacksod’s Mrs Sweeney, centurion, WW2 D-Day weather forecaster and great friend is featured. The last date stamp of postal issue in the village, franked by Mrs Sweeney and in her beautiful handwriting, is now in Henry's possession. Another centurion, John Togher from nearby Tirranë is captured in glowing health set against a respectful Erris sky. 

There are so many photos and each could elicit a thousand words. Well, isn’t that what they say about pictures anyway? From his picture of the high-viz yellow of a hard-working football legend Ciaran McDonald in deepest Connemara to the 1975 photo of the high-fielding moustachioed John Stenson from Sligo lording the middle against Mayo on a defining day for that young Mayo outfit, mixed with a historic rare Connacht title for the Yeats lads.

Henry wasn’t just a fine basketballer, he also helped put in train a club that rocked the nation and won national basketball titles. He’s humble in his work for the town of Ballina, be that the drama groups, arts, choral groups and generally wants only the best for the town. His respect for those who built Ballina into that fine town is evident, be those photos of Moclair, Carney and Courell, or pictures of those who organised the Boy Scouts, old, retired Gardaí who served the town in their later years as custodians of its amenities, literally the butchers, bakers and shop keepers, hoteliers and publicans. Jackie Clarke and his fabulous gift to the town, generations of Ginty's stone masons and Meenaghan fishmongers. In truth, Henry captured the essence of every town and village in Mayo.

Nuggets are provided, the journey from black and white, dark rooms and processing within the confines of the Western People to colour. I was surprised to see it was 1979 before colour became the paper's staple. The digital process changed photography and possibly freed the Henrys of this world to try new things. The book, hats off here, chronicled the breakup within the Western family when a rival paper was set up in the town. The Western Journal probably upped the game for all concerned and the sympathetic description of Henry ensured no hurt was felt. Indeed, I might add, Henry’s role as ‘Father’ of the union at the Western People in that era ensured no lasting rancour would befall.

So I highly recommend this book to everybody. It is and will grow in value with each passing year. It is compiled by a man whose early life was a one-station television land, same with radio unless you stuck a coat hanger on your transistor late at night to get Radio Luxembourg. But Henry Wills was always a modernist with a respectful eye to the past and a wise eye on the present. Any lad who togged out in mid-1960s' Muredach's in white shorts, socks and Hammers jersey, who survived murderous tackles from lads in woollen socks, ankle boots with leather studs and clerical black shorts with matching haircuts, was always cut out for greatness. 

You have done the Western People, its editorial team, staff, the town of Ballina and the counties of Mayo and Sligo some service, sir. I salute you. Get it now. The ideal Christmas gift but more than that. A pictorial treasure of who and what we are.