Father David Monahan Remembers

By Father David Monahan
with Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda

EDITOR’S NOTE- Father David Monahan is considered by many to be an institution in Oklahoma. He may be best known for serving as editor of the Sooner Catholic for many years. For writing hundreds of columns that often caused us to think, feel, laugh and cry, although not at the same time. Those who attended McGuinness High School will recall his love of education. Mostly, they will recall his love of people. Although Father Monahan’s memory “is kind of slipping,” as he himself notes, these are his own largely unedited words, as recorded in a series of interviews with Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda.

I’m very, very thankful to God for the priests that I have worked under who, although not perfect, were always excellent examples of good priests.

From the time I was in school in Tulsa, these priests taught me a lot just by the way they went about doing things, like the concern they had for people. I think that’s the best kind of teaching.

My memory is kind of slipping on me now, so I don’t want to say anything that is not going to give the right impression of what actually happened.

The priesthood has been great as far as I’m concerned. I was never tempted to run off. I’m sure there were times when I didn’t feel good about things. But I don’t know that I ever had a tremendous thing happen where I would say, “hell I’m going to quit.” I don’t think I ever really thought in that direction. I guess I liked it!

I would think as far as hardness, it became easier as I went along. But it never was terribly tough, either.

Would I recommend the priesthood? Sure! I would not push it on someone, but I would say that if they were thinking in that direction, it’s a good thing to do.

The best way to promote vocations is to have good priests. Father [Cecil E.] Finn was the perfect mentor. He left the biggest impression on me. He was very good with kids, and he also was a very good priest, a good person. We were very good friends until the time he died. I’ve been surrounded by a lot of good people. I remember I had an older priest, pretty high up there in years, and I was assigned to him. He kept his cool pretty well with me as I made all kinds of mistakes.

Oh, I don’t know that I’ve been an example for others. But I hope I didn’t run anybody off!

I was ordained over here at the Cathedral [of Our Lady of Perpetual Help] in [May 23] 1953. It was a great day and a scary day. I forget, but there must have been eight or ten of us ordained that year.

I was born on March 6 [1927], at St. John’s Hospital in Tulsa. I thought Tulsa was the greatest thing ever put together!

My grandfather Connolly, my mother’s father, had a lot to do with building the hospital. He was a big shot in those days. I never knew him because he died before I was born. He came to America via Canada, and then he ended up down here at the turn of the 20th century because of the oil business. Everybody said he was the pillar of the Catholic Church in Tulsa, a great man; at least that’s what my family said. I don’t know what the truth is!

My family went to Christ the King and I went to Marquette School. Everybody who ever went there thought it was a great place. I know I did. I was at Marquette until I graduated from high school, then I went right to the seminary in St. Louis for four years.

I have one sister, Helen, who is eight years older than I. When I was young, our household had a bad time. My father began drinking terribly and pretty soon my mother had to break loose from him. Later on he came back, not to live in our home, but he was welcomed. I remember I was sad about that, as any kid would have been.

My dad became more and more disconnected from the family, so most of my life at home he wasn’t there. That’s not supposed to happen. He was a very bright fellow, but he had all kinds of problems. It was pretty tough for my mother. I’d say she’s the one growing up I admired the most. She was a very frail little lady, never but weighed a hundred pounds. She was sick a lot of the time, but she made it along. Now that I look back at it, it was amazing that she could.

One of the things that helped my father and I get along well in the latter part of his life is that he had a terrible wreck and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He had to limp along.

When I was ordained, things went along pretty well for me for about five years-and then I had a kind of collapse. I was in St. Louis for treatment for quite a while. I don’t know why I got sick, but I did.

Shortly after that I had the good luck to get to know Father [Ramon] Carlin. He was very important to me. He was such a character himself. He could talk your head off, and you always wondered what he was going to do next! He really was good to me. That was his specialty, trying to help people, and he helped me. I was just a dumb little kid.

He and I came to McGuinness High School at the same time, and that’s when I hooked up with him. It was good for me because I knew something about doing that kind of stuff. I don’t know that I was a good teacher, but I liked it.

As far as working with the Sooner Catholic, I don’t think I ever said I could do it, or anything like that. I just got the job. Probably Father Carlin had something to do with it!  I’ve always enjoyed writing or doing something along that line.

I enjoyed being editor. It’s important to actually go to the places, and I enjoyed going out, talking to people. I really liked telling stories of regular Catholics, traveling, and looking into things that I had not known much about before.

It was in that time [when I began work with the newspaper], that the mission was starting down in [Santiago Atitlan] Guatemala, and Father Carlin was the one that went to the mission first.

I never really considered going to work at the mission, but I really admired the people that did.

While I was editor, I went down there a number of times and got to know Father Stanley Rother. Father Carlin had a lot to do with Stanley being there. Father Carlin was there three years and Father Rother stayed there until he was killed [July 28, 1981].

I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. Father Rother was a guy that was always considered a dumb bell. He was a kind, nice guy, a farm boy, and a real quiet fellow who worked hard as heck. And I guess he thought he wasn’t very bright. People had told him that over and over again. But he was bright enough, bright in many other ways than what people would think. Once he got down to the mission, he was great.

Stanley had to be really frightened by the later part of his life. People were threatening him. He left Guatemala for a while but went right back. He’s already a saint, but he ought to be canonized. He was very brave, to do what he did there and to stay serving the people until the end, until he was killed.

[When Stanley Rother was killed] I cried. I remember going out to the airport. I drove the bishop there to pick up his body when it was sent to the states. That was really something. There was a lot of crying and a lot of understanding that this was a great man, that it was great to have been around him, to have known him. He was very special.

Perhaps his memory will fade over time, but I have to say that Stanley Rother had a great influence on our diocese.

I think the Church in Oklahoma has done very well. It was so small, so little, and yet it’s still here. It will never probably be a major Church, by any means, but it is a pretty healthy church, I think.

As far as what makes the Oklahoma Church unique, I don’t know if I can answer that or not. I think that the Church here has a special kind of way of looking at things. Maybe each diocese has this, I don’t know. When new people come along, they build upon that.

But I’ve always been proud of the Church in this state. I don’t know why! The truth is that I’m getting ready to go see God. Please pray for me.