Remembering Kevin Fouhy

Joseph Ramanos (1974) writes of his friend and class mate. Reproduced from Sectare Fidem, Celebrating 125 Years.

Kevin Fouhy was my best friend at school, and I was shocked when he died in a road accident during the 1974 May holidays, in our Seventh Form year. I imagine his name means nothing to today’s St Pat’s pupils. They might see his photo hanging on the wall and note that he died young. But for those of us who knew him, Kevin was a really tremendous person. He and I had gone right through Marist Newtown together, playing cricket and sometimes hanging out on weekends. I never played much golf, except with Kevin. We’d play mainly at Berhampore. He’d turn up with the clubs and we’d zig-zag our way around the course, his good humour never being dimmed, no matter how long we had to search for our balls in the trees.

We did debating together, and I used to enjoy the way Kevin, as the leader of our team, would invariably tell the audience when summing up that I – the third speaker – had delivered the “coup de grâce” by slicing through opposition arguments. I hadn’t, but he said it so convincingly that I almost believed it. I admired Kevin very much at school. Though we were the same age, it was obvious even to me how much more mature he was. He handled himself very well in adult company, was unfailingly modest and had time for everyone. He did his best at everything he turned his hand to, and, unlike some of his classmates, was unafraid to be seeing to be trying his hardest.

I wasn’t surprised, but was very pleased, when he was named our Head Prefect at the start of 1974. It was the right decision, but you never know with these things. Various factors can come into play and sometimes the wrong boys get nominated for the top jobs. Kevin handled our prefects’ meetings with humour and efficiency. There was never the slightest hint of a swollen head. He was good at sport, especially athletics and basketball, and was so good academically, especially the Sciences and Maths, that he might well have been dux.

Then came the May holidays. He stayed in Wellington, where he had some basketball commitments, and I headed to Palmerston North to play in a squash tournament. During the weekend came the terrible news that he’d died in a road accident. Apparently he’d been riding his motorbike very slowly through an intersection in Newtown, returning from the Newtown basketball hall, and had been hit by a car. As fate would have it, he died at the scene. Fr O’Donoghue had given him the last rights.

Our school year carried on. Chris Finlayson took over as Head Prefect. We finished the year and headed out into the world. But it’s an odd thing. As I’ve got older, I’ve thought increasingly about Kevin. I’m much sadder now when I think of his premature death than I was when I was 17. On the 30th anniversary of his death, I put a Memorial notice in The Dominion Post. I have no idea who read it and if it meant anything to anyone (I was contacted by one schoolmate, Brendan Bonner, who saw it and said he was pleased it was there), but I felt better for having inserted it. I often wonder what Kevin would have made of his life. He was so talented in so many ways. What I can say for sure, though, is that he packed a lot into 17 years, never wasting a jot of his ability in any area.