Felix Cronin was one of that diminishing band of enthusiasts, stalwarts and eccentrics - many of them "Emergency men" - who formed the backbone of the infant Irish aviation industry when the land plane routes to the US were being opened up towards the close of the second World War. Ireland's geographic position had ensured the country of a pivotal role in the development of the world's most sophisticated and glamorous industry and thousands of young men and women flocked to the airlines and ancillary services in the hope of being part of what was seen by some as a great adventure and by others as "a good job at the base".
Felix was one of the enthusiasts. Bitten by the aviation bug at an early age, he succeeded in landing a job with an airline. The job was quite ordinary, the airline was not. Felix found himself on the sales staff of Pan American World Airways, then grandiosely and romantically subtitled "The System of the Flying Clippers", and already the most powerful, the most professional, and possibly the most arrogant airline the world had seen.
Although Felix was to spend most of his working life with Air Canada, a company he served loyally and with distinction as Irish manager, Juan Trippe's fabulous creation remained the real love of his professional life. He had a detailed knowledge of Pan Am's turbulent history, collected many photographs of its huge fleet of Stratocruisers, DC-7Cs and other airliners from the turbo-prop glory days, and retained in perfect condition his Pan Am uniform (1947 vintage) which he continued to wear on special occasions long after the airline had suffered its sad and ignominious demise.
Although not an "Emergency man" - he was sent to UCD to study commerce - Felix had important connections with the military establishment. His father, Major General Felix Cronin, was Quartermaster General. His mother, Kitty Kiernan, had been the fiancee of Michael Collins, whose many letters to her during the Treaty negotiations invariably ended with the line "in great haste", and were later published under that title. Felix was immensely proud of this historic connection. But for one whose childhood and youth were dominated by Civil War politics, he was unusually tolerant and entirely without political rancour or guile. He often said that his only political regret was never having had the opportunity to vote for Jim Kemmy.
As well as the modern commercial techniques he had learned in what was the world's classiest airline, he clung to some very old-fashioned ideas. For him, every flight was an adventure and he believed that the same should be the case with his passengers. He believed that, regardless of which side of the curtain the passenger happened to be sitting, he should be treated as an honoured guest. As the era of mass travel and wide-bodied aircraft advanced, this became a virtual impossibility, but Felix soldiered on and maintained personal contact by keeping a high profile at the departure gates and on the aircraft. He made a special point of making himself available when there were delays.
Felix made his first flight on May 9th, 1948, in the D.H. Rapide EI-ACX piloted by Capt Darby Kennedy from Weston Aerodrome to Farmer's Cross Field, Cork. From that day until his last flight on October 17th last he meticulously logged every flight he made, noting the date, destination, aircraft registration number and time in the air. When he made the last entry (17.10. 99. Airbus 331 EI-CPG, Rome-Dublin) there had been 1,423 flights, including more than 150 Atlantic crossings.
The unlogged stories of these flights were often hilarious and ranged from his partially successful attempt to down his first ever dry Martini as the unpressurised DC-3 lurched viciously in the rough air over the Alps; crawling on hands and knees along the floor of a Skymaster cargo plane caught in an even more vicious storm off the Newfoundland coast; and being arrested and rudely bundled into a police jeep after disembarking from the first-class cabin of a Pan Am clipper at a remote African airfield normally used only as a refuelling stop. Felix was there when the going was good, if unpredictable.
Maura and the family are left with wonderful memories which, because of Felix's tremendous talent for friendship, they share with so many. With his unique sartorial flair, his fondness for bright, daring colours and his mischievous sense of fun, he truly lit up every social occasion. He delighted in the offbeat and the unpredictable. No doubt, when the final trumpet sounds, Felix will follow Oscar Wilde's advice and pretend not to hear it.
M. O'T.