Memories of Cardinal Owen McCann

It has been thirty years since the death of South Africa’s first cardinal. Our Advisory Editor Michael Shackleton looks back on his time as His Eminence Owen McCann’s private secretary during the Second Vatican Council.

Owen McCann was born in 1907 and his first school was at St Agnes’ Dominican convent in Woodstock, Cape Town. My mother was also there around the same time. She and her family were good friends with the McCanns.

She hardly ever spoke about Owen, except that he was a pleasant and likeable lad who played goalkeeper for a Marist Brothers team.

My first close meeting with McCann as bishop of Cape Town was in 1954 when as a 19-year-old I mentioned that I would like to become a priest. He was warm and sympathetic and asked me a string of questions about my prayer life and general practice of the faith. He agreed to accept me as a candidate and sent me in the following year to St John Vianney Seminary in Pretoria.

In the next seven years he never failed to ask regularly how his Cape Town students were doing: Were we happy and did we need anything? He made us feel important and we appreciated his avuncular kindness.

A year after my ordination in 1961, Archbishop McCann told me he would like me as his private secretary. I was in hospital at that time, having had my appendix removed. It took me some moments to digest what this new responsibility would mean and that I would now live in the same house as a prelate who had always appeared as rather superior being to me.

The archbishop’s house was then in Sea Point, a handsome building with magnificent views of the ocean and Robben Island in the distance. I had a decent room, not facing seawards but large and airy. I was happy about that.

The housekeeper, Mrs Williams, was a good cook and a caring person. She saw that the two of us were well fed and comfortable. Every morning I would offer Mass in the private chapel attended by Mrs Williams. Then I would assist the archbishop for his Mass while Mrs Williams prepared breakfast.

Almost every day the archbishop and I sat down to breakfast, lunch and dinner. We spoke of events of the day and time, and not much more. He was a taciturn man and it was never easy to stimulate him into unburdening himself of the worries and problems that I know bothered him deeply.

Tormented by apartheid

At that time, in the early 1960s, South Africa was an apartheid state and the government’s policy of strict separation of the races led to many crises in parishes. I sensed that the archbishop was tormented by this cruel situation, yet he never opened up to me to share what was on his mind. Bottling up his emotions was not healthy. He smoked more cigarettes than were good for him. At night he would sometimes ramble restlessly for a long time around the two-storey house. He would often appear drained and exhausted at the breakfast table.

Despite this, he maintained a kindly attitude towards me, knowing that I was there to be of assistance to him in all matters. On most Sunday afternoons we would visit parishes to conduct confirmation services. I played a big role in these events around the altar. Guiding priests and candidates through the liturgy could be uphill work because confirmations were not a regular event in most parishes.

Care for mother and sister

Archbishop McCann was really considerate to his mother and his sister Patricia. He was frequently invited to concerts and other entertainments in convents and parishes. He made sure that “Ma and Pat” were on the guest list, and the two would join us in his car as the driver ferried us onwards.

On one winter’s night, as the rain lashed the car on our way to the Good Shepherd Home concert, McCann pulled out a cigar and lit it. With windows tightly shut to keep out the cold and wet, the entire cabin was enveloped in thick pungent smoke. There was silence for a short while. Then his mother’s parental voice cracked the air: “Owen, put that damn cigar out!” He did so immediately. He turned to me and whispered: “Michael, this is a lesson we must never forget: obey your mother.” He was embarrassed. His mother was not. She was a kindly but outspoken woman born in Melbourne, Australia.

In February 1965 the unexpected news broke: Pope Paul VI had made Owen McCann a cardinal. When I had a chance to congratulate him, he kept repeating: “The honour is not for me but for South Africa and Cape Town.”

But Cape Town knew that the archbishop was a worthy recipient of the red hat. Mayor Gerry Ferry and town clerk Jan Luyt knew how he had always been personally involved in the city’s life and charities. They swiftly organised a civic reception which was a huge success bringing lots of praise and congratulations from many quarters.

Going to Vatican II

1965 was the fourth and final year of the Second Vatican Council. The archbishop had attended the first three sessions between 1962 and 1964. Now he would be there as one of the elite ranks of cardinals. He admitted to being nervous and apprehensive, and I felt for him. Then he took me by surprise: “I want you to come with me to Rome,” he said kindly.

That was a time that led me behind the Vatican’s closed doors. Apart from being present at each daily session of the Council, I met Pope Paul and many curial officials, and I appreciated increasingly that Cardinal Owen McCann was esteemed and respected by them as  leader in the Church in Africa.

Our residence was the mother house of the Pallottine Fathers, which the new cardinal had used as his base in the past (his predecessor and mentor, Bishop Franz Hennemann, had been a Pallottine). There he was a welcome and popular figure. This was not surprising. Owen McCann was a gentleman at all times, gracious and polite to everyone he met. He also was well-informed about the workings and gossip of the Council and remained cool even when debates became overheated. This was a noticeable characteristic of his, one which attracted him to others.

Although I spent much time on my own while he attended many meetings and functions, he ensured that I was comfortable and got around the Holy City to experience its famous landmarks and historical sites.

Having been elevated to great clerical heights, Owen McCann still remained a humble man. His entire life was his vocation to serve the Church with all his ability. He did this, as he frequently repeated, with the grace of God and nothing more.

Like Cardinal McCann, Michael Shackleton is a former editor of The Southern Cross. Also read his memories of McCann being named a cardinal in his article from 2015 at scross.co.za/2015/12/19216/

Published in the March 2024 issue of The Southern Cross magazine