The Essential Brendan Behan

THE ESSENTIAL BRENDAN BEHAN ON ONE OCCASION Brendan said to me: "Whoever writes my biography will get no help from my letters. . . . I never write any." I never got a letter from Brendan in my life. He wrote to our uncle Peadar Kearney after he had been arrested in Liverpool (1939) with gelignite on him. He explained he had been pinched in almost the same manner as Tom Clarke in 1883. Clarke had been convicted of carrying explosives and was sentenced in the name of Wilson. He served sixteen years in British prisons. The British knew exactly who they had in 1916, and he was among the first to be executed. When Brendan was in England I heard nothing at all from him, but when he was in prison in Mountjoy, Arbour Hill, and the Curragh, he used to write a long letter to his brother Sean (his favourite brother I may add), which was religiously shown to all his special friends, among whom I am happy to say I was numbered. As he settled down he wrote a lot of short stories and articles that I was allowed to read and criticise. He wrote a long play "The Landlady" which I typed for him. There were two copies typed and the longhand copy. I regret I didn't keep the longhand copy ... it would be a literary curiosity now. I called three times to see him in prison. The first time we were let into the annex at Mountjoy Gate but no further; the second time we were allowed into the kind of cage in which prisoners receive their visitors. Brendan, a distance from us, shouting steadily for about half an hour to his four visitors.... Sean, Freddy May, Sheila May, and myself. The next time he had been removed to Arbour Hill. He had started a beard that only emphasized his boyish appearance. It was wonderful how he could carryon a non-stop conversation with four persons . . . the same four . . . uninhibited by the presence of the Military Policeman. During the war transport was difficult and I never made it to the Curragh. I don't know if any of his friends or relatives saw him there. Rory, his eldest brother, went to the Curragh on a painting job and asked one of the guards for permission to see Brendan Behan. When he was asked why, Rory said, "He is my brother." Rory was promptly escorted off the camp. Brendan was still in Mountjoy when Uncle Peadar died (November , 1942) and he asked for permission to attend the funeral. Sean Kavanagh the governor, conveyed the request to the Minister and 374 1966 THE ESSENTIAL BRENDAN BEHAN 375 told Brendan the reply. The Minister said he wouldn't let Brendan out "on a chain." Brendan was then serving a fourteen year sentence for shooting at a policeman. I think he was in the Curragh when he sent word to Sean that he wanted to present me with a pocket book. I got the leather from Longs of Capel Street. One side of the pocketbook bears my monogram , and the other has an impression of Cuchulain with drawn sword and the four provinces of Ireland. In the period of his opulence Brendan often called to the shop and borrowed five pounds "when the banks were closed," which he would pay back in a day or two. But in the old days, after coming out of prison and trying to get to grips with life, he had borrowed sums from me which indeed I never expected him to repay. I don't grudge Brendan anything, and if he asked me for a half crown or a pound I couldn't refuse him. It was about fourteen years ago that he made a rather exhorbitant demand. He came trundling up the stairs on Thursday with a dilapidated standard typewriter in his arms, which he plonked on the desk before me. "Jimmy, this machine is worth thirteen pounds. I want you to give me thirteen pounds for it." I gave him a cheque. I believe SOMEONE may have given thirteen pounds for the machine but as it stood, with the best will in the...