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Irish Examiner

Denis Lehane: Richard Harris exhibition recharged my batteries

Farming for me, was learned, not from fancy books or from the wise words of a Teagasc adviser. No. I learned my farming the hard way. I learned it from TV, the movies and idle chat after Mass on a Sunday morning. A lot more farming was learned while holding a pool cue down in Bealnamorrive pub on a Friday night, than was ever picked up in Moorepark. Call me old-fashioned, call me blind to the modern world, call me deaf to modern trends, but I think far too much emphasis is placed on classrooms. The most important lessons in life are usually learned in the quarest of places. Back in the 1970s, when farmers ruled the world, and when RTÉ had the good sense to broadcast classic rural soaps like 'The Riordans', I learned many things about the land. I learned that wise old farmers, like Tom Riordan, usually wore grey hats and spoke very slowly. And later on, from Glenroe, I learned that you didn't have to be a genius to be a farmer, or to get married to a fine woman like Biddy. In fact, all you really needed to do was say words like "Well holy God!" I also learned that Joe Lynch, who hailed from the heart of Cork City could pass for a farmer, if given a convincing limp, a few dirty eggs, and the right cap. Glenroe gave me a great grounding in farming and in life. But it was from Richard Harris and his portrayal of The Bull McCabe in the movie The Field that I learned the most of all. Jamie, Damian, and Jared Harris viewing an exhibit at the launch of 'From Dickie to Richard — Richard Harris: The Role of a Lifetime', at the Hunt Museum in Limerick. Picture: Alan Place Richard Harris should have received an Oscar for his efforts — or at the very least an all-star award. But alas, he received very little. And this was shabby treatment for a man in his finest hour. Harris was brilliant, we will never see his likes again. Anyhow, when a current exhibition opened recently in Limerick, dedicated to the great Harris, it was no surprise to find me biting at the bit to go. I was like a hungry suckler calf bawling for the pap long before the doors opened. And when they finally opened, I rushed in like a bullock galloping into a meadow of freshly-grown grass. I was in my element. To say I was excited about the exhibition would be an understatement. The Harris exhibition was better than any farm walk for me. Harris and the Bull McCabe are to farming what Pelé is to soccer, or Pavarotti is to fine dining. Granted, The Bull was a little rough around the edges, but sure, even in the finest paintings you will find a chip or two, if you look closely enough. The Bull could also be abrupt at the table, and of course, not forgetting the murder. Yerra The Bull was far from perfect. I won't deny that. But sure, who in farming is without his or her share of faults? Let him who is without sin cast the first stone into the transport box. What makes The Bull so special in farming is his passion for the land. It's as simple as that. It was a passion that overshadowed everything else. And Harris in The Field gave us this passion in spades. Farming without passion is like a tractor without diesel. You are going nowhere without it. You are a spluttering failure. And, while you need a lot of things to farm successfully, if you don't have a passion for the job, you are wasting your time. The Harris exhibition in the Hunt Museum in Limerick had me spellbound from the moment I entered the building. And when I returned here to my farm in Kilmichael, I tackled my pike and hitched up to my wheelbarrow with renewed vigour. I was ready once again for whatever the land could throw at me. Like a flat battery after getting a recharge, I was energised for farming and was more than ready to take on the field. 'From Dickie to Richard — Richard Harris: The Role of a Lifetime' continues at the Hunt Museum until November 16, 2025.