On a soft Galway afternoon last Thursday, as the autumn light slipped across the paving stones of Eyre Square, a small crowd gathered near the entrance to the Eyre Square Centre. City councillors, family members, and lifelong friends stood together in quiet pride, as President Michael D. Higgins unveiled a memorial bench to one of Galway’s most steadfast public servants — Mr Clement Ignatius O’Flynn.
For most passersby, benches are places of pause, rest, or reflection. But this one, modestly set among the bustle of the city’s central square, carries a deeper meaning. It honours the man widely credited with saving Eyre Square itself — preserving it as the open, democratic heart of Galway — and, in doing so, helping shape the city as we know it today.
It is no exaggeration to say that without C.I. O’Flynn’s intervention, the landscape of Galway might be unrecognisable. In the 1950s, plans were advanced by Bishop Michael Browne to build the city’s new cathedral on the site of Eyre Square. At the time, the notion had a certain ecclesiastical appeal — to place a great cathedral at the city’s heart. But to Mr O’Flynn, who had already devoted decades of his life to Galway’s civic life, it was a step too far.
He saw Eyre Square as belonging to the people — not to the Church, not to commerce, but to the citizens who gathered there, strolled its paths, and marked their milestones in its open air. Mr O’Flynn opposed the proposal, quietly but firmly, arguing that the square was a vital public space that must remain open. In the end, the cathedral was built on the site of the old Galway Gaol, overlooking the River Corrib. The city gained both a great house of worship and retained its civic square — a balance that owes much to his foresight.
Had the bishop’s plan succeeded, the heart of Galway would have been forever altered — its skyline dominated by stone and spire instead of sky and space. “He saved Eyre Square for the people,” as City CEO Leonard Cleary remarked at the unveiling, “and in doing so, he saved something essential about Galway’s character — its openness, its sense of shared belonging.”
C I O’Flynn’s son Niall O’Flynn said “My father’s sense of public service came from a large family with a keen sense of public service. His father was an Alderman in Limerick and most of CI’s brothers and sisters took up public service careers.”
Three decades of service
Born in the early years of the 20th century, Clement Ignatius O’Flynn served as Galway’s City and County Manager from 1932 to 1965 — an extraordinary span of more than thirty years. At the time of his retirement, he held the record as the longest-serving City and County Manager in the history of the Irish state.
His remit was vast. Beyond the city’s administration, Mr O’Flynn oversaw the Health Service for the entire county, including the offshore islands. During the Second World War — known in Ireland as “The Emergency” — he was appointed County Commissioner, responsible for security and civil defence. It was a role that demanded calm judgment, quiet authority, and an ability to keep a cool head under the pressure of global uncertainty.
Those who worked with him remember a man of quiet conviction — never seeking the spotlight, but always intent on steady progress. His name appears on few grand plaques, but his influence can be traced through many of the city’s most enduring institutions.
Building modern Galway
Under Mr O’Flynn’s leadership, Galway underwent a period of expansion and modernisation that laid the groundwork for the vibrant city we know today. The developments he guided were practical, forward-looking, and community-focused.
He was instrumental in the extension and development of Salthill Promenade, transforming what had once been a modest coastal path into one of Ireland’s most beloved seafront walks — a place where generations have since strolled “to the wall and back.”
He oversaw the building of Merlin Park Hospital, securing the land from Captain Waitman and ensuring the project went ahead during a time when healthcare infrastructure was sorely needed. He also played a major role in the expansion of the Central Hospital into what became the Regional Hospital, strengthening Galway’s position as a healthcare hub for the West.
Housing was another of Mr O’Flynn’s priorities. The Mervue and Shantalla housing estates, developed during his tenure, provided much-needed homes for working families and continue to serve as thriving communities today. And later, in the 1960s, the Leisureland complex in Salthill — another project with O’Flynn’s fingerprints — became a centre of recreation and culture for the growing city.
Through each of these projects, his guiding principle was simple: to build a Galway that served its people.
Keeper of Galway’s history
Mr O’Flynn’s sense of civic duty extended beyond bricks and mortar. He was deeply conscious of Galway’s heritage, and one of his lesser-known achievements was his role in repatriating the Galway Sword and Mace — historic symbols of the city’s municipal authority.
In the 1960s, Mr O’Flynn travelled with Mayor James Reddington to New York, where the items had found their way into the possession of the family of William Randolph Hearst, the American newspaper magnate. The journey was both symbolic and practical: the retrieval of Galway’s lost insignia represented a reclaiming of the city’s civic pride. Today, the sword and mace are proudly displayed in the City Museum — enduring reminders of Galway’s rich urban lineage and the man who helped bring them home.
Welcoming a President
Among Mr O’Flynn’s many moments of public service, few were as memorable as the visit of President John F. Kennedy to Galway in 1963. Mr O’Flynn played a central role in the planning and coordination of the visit — a brief but unforgettable occasion that saw tens of thousands gather along the streets to greet the young American president.
The event was a high point in Galway’s 20th-century story, a moment when the West of Ireland met the glamour and optimism of the New World. Kennedy was made a Freeman of the City, and for those who were there, Mr O’Flynn’s steady hand ensured that everything — from the motorcade to the speeches — went off without a hitch.
A legacy of service
When C.I. O’Flynn retired in the mid-1960s, he did so quietly, without ceremony. He continued to live in Galway for the remainder of his life, a private man who had given his working years to public service. He passed away in 1992, remembered by colleagues as a man of principle and modesty — a civic leader whose dedication rarely sought the limelight but left an indelible mark nonetheless.
Now, more than three decades later, his contribution is being formally recognised with the bench in Eyre Square — a fitting tribute to a man who once fought to ensure that this very space would remain free for future generations.
At the unveiling, President Higgins — himself a former Galway councillor and a lifelong champion of community — spoke to the O’Flynn family warmly of CI O’Flynn’s vision. He understood that a city is not only its buildings and roads, but its shared spaces — the places where people meet, talk, and live their lives together.
The Square he saved
As the crowd dispersed, and the ordinary rhythms of Eyre Square resumed — buses coming and going, students crossing the plaza, children chasing pigeons — the new bench caught the light, its plaque quietly gleaming.
It sits near the bottom of the square, not far from the entrance to the shopping centre — a place where thousands pass each day. Most may never know the full story of the man whose name it bears. But for those who pause there, perhaps with a cup of coffee or a quiet thought, it offers a moment of reflection — a reminder that Galway’s great public spaces did not preserve themselves. They were defended, shaped, and safeguarded by people like C.I. O’Flynn.
In the city he helped build and the square he saved, his legacy endures — not in marble or monument, but in the open space of Galway’s heart, freely shared by all.
