Point Lookout, Long Island, New York, U.S.A.

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Justin McCann


Our play "Never Too Late" did not open on December fifth as scheduled. Its star, Justin McCann, had performed his role for the last time during ,dress rehearsal the pr:eceding night.

So, instead of a gala opening, the remaining executive board members minus its president and star - were holding a sorrowful emergency meeting. It was unanimously agreed to keep Justin's vitality and love of theatre alive and flourishing in the community he so dearly loved and to which he contributed so much.

We in the theatre group will miss Justin's enriching presence. He knew his lines well in this life. We're certain the same holds true for him in the next life. Our sympathies extend to his family and many friends.

Justin McCann


A man of the calibre of Justin McCann should not be permitted to depart from us without a tribute from a grateful community. In taking upon myself this task I know that I am simply echoing the minds of a great many people who loved the man and knew his quality. Not always can a man be found to bear the burdens of others, a man who is civic-minded, generous with his time and devoted to many causes; a man who loves his fellowmen, and willing to serve. Such a man was Justin McCann.

Long before he became a resident of Point Lookout he was a summer visitor who couldn't help but interest himself in all things that affected the community. His interests finally moved him to move in - with us, and we were all beneficiaries of this decision. His kindly spirit, his good sense, his out-going personality were felt everywhere; as a member of the Civic Association, President of the Holy Name Society, of the Fishing Club, the Lions Club, the Parish Council, his leadership and charm were twin-beacons for all who came in contact with him.

His genius for friendship was founded on his great capacity for love. So many people considered him a close friend that it can only be explained by his innate ability to make each person feel that he was someone very special and beloved. The loss of his wife Eileen, too early, far from limiting him in any way seemed to release his enormous talent for giving, for sharing. This has been demonstrated time and again as he took over the office of mother as well as father to his five children. But also in a kind of paternal interest that he had in all of us.

We deeply sympathize with his children who have suffered so great a loss. They are still young, but old enough to have benefited greatly by having such a father to remember and to imitate. And we sympathize with our community over our common loss. We too can remember and imitate.

Father Fagan


Any wallflower knew he'd ask for a dance!

Don't tell him about ecumenism. Justin was Everyman's brother before the bishops got the word. Chairman of the Board, or bum - or both - you were a man in his eyes. And love came in all colors.

He was scheduled to be the star of the show that night. It turned out that he was. When he took his final bow the applause roared out in the silent thunder of a thousand heartbeats.

And the reviews were great!

There were kids around town who cried that Friday "night and that was strange, because they wept for the corniest man I've known - a square to end all -squares. Proud prototype of the intellectual, Rosary-rubbing New York Irish Catholic, he had a spiritual commutation ticket to South Bend, Indiana. Justin McCann. A card-carrying traditionalist, he was firm in his commitment to honor, loyalty, devotion - to you and to me. His hair was short, but yours could be long. His standards were rigid but you could commit no unforgivable sin except taking the points against Notre Dame.

You might say he believed in God.

There are some, more than ever before...who can prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was wrong - that God is dead - that there's nothing left of a great sweetheart and a foul pipe. If that's the way you feel, do yourself a favor. Reserve the option of putting your hand in the Wound. Then ask Justin to introduce you . The next time you see him.

John Keavey