The Waterbury Democrat., 1943-08-05
Good Evening.

Red-Beard :. |. The first thing you noticed about him was his red beard square cut and brstng and yet as soft as palm of girls hand and for the breath of second you didn't notice the keen kno brown eyes the welcoming grin that exposed white strong teeth nor were you conscious of the friendly grip of huge paw Then all sudden you saw these things and you 1et these things and you very glad to be alive and to be shaking hands with the grower of that magnificent red beard For you said to yourself, Here, by all the Saints, is a man!'
 And a man. sure enough he was, and more to boot for in addition to being he missionary priest in place called Uganda, in Africa His name was Father Robinson. He of the 'Back Fathers as opposed to the White" Fathers who were French Mis- soares and white robes Father Robinsons order black. Hence the distinction
 The "BIack" Fathers were English Order, l believe But just as the British Army is made up of Irishmen, and Scotsmen, and Welshmen so was the order of "Black" Fathers. Father Robinson was Scotsman or as he preferred to call himself - Celt When met him the threshold of the mission house built by him, and others of his ilk out of sun dried brick and he welcomed in, and the English man who had brought me to call he let me know that right away And was very glad indeed. For in that part of country ten thousand miles away from home, was the only other Celt, and he the only other man had met of my own faith.
 and talked to for little while, and listened to our talk And he wanted to know why had come out to Africa to grow coffee and to be trader and to shoot had wanted to do and that there wasn't any harm Tn wanting do things like that he said that he thoroughly agreed with me- For after all that why he had for saken Scotland and friends, and material comforts to come out to Africa himself, and to bring the Word of God to lot of ignorant savages. And knew then had found friend
 He asked us then if we wouldn't like {: "Sundowner'. Now "Sundowner' is nothing more nor less than Scotch and Soda Scotch and water, gin and bitters and it is drink which your most abstem nous of people will take in Uganda when and after the sun goes down. So of course, we said we would.
 Father Robinson called boy, and in fluent Luganda, gave him order. In few moments the boy back with tray, and Whiskey, and soda-nO ice, of course and twelve glasses!
 While Father Robinson poured out our drinks I found myself eyeing tkose twelve glasses. After all there only three of in the rOOm But in little while understood For in little while joined by another priest, and he took a glass, and in moment later another priest came in and he took glass and in time at all, there was and my Eng lish friend, and nine priests slipping drinks and chattering away like a lot of magpies
 Lord! But it was fun. I, a lad of twenty-five my friend twice and this group of young priests, eager and keen and formidable in their faith, talking to of the country had come from and the wonders of New York; and enjoying this seldom touch with the outside world, which they had renounced, because they too, had dreamed.
 And marveed at them all. Some were only few to do what they thought right They endured rgors and hardshps and performed ieats ndescrbabe from establishing, building and expanding mission to preaching - six months after arrival - in Luganda to their congregation made up entirely of blacks, the few occasions when attended Mass myself, and given special Pre-Dieu at which to kneel And they had to do it all without funds I've forgotten what their personal allowance was but it was 'n the neighborhood of $50 year.
 Ilearned that they were allowed to accept invitations to dinner. So asked Father Robinson down to dinner tC my bachelor bungalow of the hills of Kampala. He accepted graciousy but with the alacrity of who had not yet lost the of good meal and seldom found
 He arrived on motorcycle his black robes plumng behind him, his red beard blowing in the wind. And ushered him in, and gave him drink and cigar, and he stretched out in my long armed Bombay chair and drank my drink and blew rings, happy schoolboy at picnic.
 We went into dinner, and the dinner was good and we fingered over it. Then went into the living for another smoke and liquer, and night-cap And then Father Robinson went home, his beard blowing, and his robes puming under the bright African stars
 had him my guest several times after that until I, too had to go away And noW many, many years later say that I'm better man and better Christian from knowing Father Robinson.
 We were little depressed that last evening we spent together in my little bungalow the hill with the roses blooming in the small compound, and the Southern Cross shining down And got to talk ing about the first time had met him. and the twelve glasses and the eight other priests how effusivey L~L ~vxnLrn <A LonI~ >I-:-:L