My Father, the Father: a memoir of love and double lives

by Tony Beadle

When Mary discovered she was pregnant, she and her lover, Father Ralph, chose to give birth and raise their baby instead of opting for abortion or adoption. Secretly, they acted as full-time parents without disclosing that the father was a Catholic priest. Their lives became a tangled and precarious web of lies to their own families, friends, and their son.

In My Father, the Father, author Tony Beadle, that baby born in 1952, shares the story of his high-profile Catholic priest father and his mother, Mary, and how they raised him in an environment of love, lies, and secrets. The intent was to avoid disgracing an unwed pregnant mother and to prevent damaging the father’s career as a well-known parish priest and fundraiser for the cardinal in Boston, and thus the image of the Catholic Church.

This memoir tells how the priest/father led a dual life, spending half of every week with the mother and their son in a home they purchased in a small rural town south of Boston, and the rest as pastor of an affluent church nearby. Mary, who had lived near family members and many relatives, maintained a complex repertoire of lies and actions that kept the boy’s and his father’s existence a secret from them. Twenty-five years after his birth, Beadle met his relatives, garnering decidedly different reactions from both sides.

290 pages, Kindle Edition

Published May 29, 2025

Reviews

[Anne · Rating 4 out of 5]

So. my friend texted me to say, read this book. I grew up in St. Agatha Parish and Church. I attended St. Agatha School and our pastor was Monsignor Gallagher. Oh, my... I very much related to growing up Catholic in the 60's. I remember the day the nun's came to school and they had hair, and legs! I remember the cast of characters in the story, I even remember my parents drinking Cold Duck and Liebfraumilch wine. My father would probably deny this story and always felt you shouldn't air your dirty laundry, he was a big reader and hated Angela's Ashes. I wish my Mom were still alive, I bet after a couple drinks she could tell me stories. I laughed out loud when you turned in the girl on the altar at the Newman Center. I was saddened by the story of Monsignor Gallagher, but not surprised, I realized as an adult that religious and priests are human. I would recommend this book especially to those who grew up Catholic in the 50's and 60's.

[Carla Howell · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing story

As someone who starts to read more books than I finish, I found this book positively captivating. It's an amazing story, and Tony Beadle tells it exquisitely. It is most definitely worthy of being made into a movie.

[Kirsti · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author's biological father, a Catholic monsignor, raised his son part time and lived with the author's mother for part of each week. The author's mother kept her only child's existence a secret from her family for decades. Plenty of people figured things out and either didn't care or felt sympathy for the mom and kid. I admire Tony Beadle for being open about where he came from and how it affected him. I'm sure there are many others who are in similar situations. It must be hard to form friendships and relationships when all you know are lies and hypocrisy.

[Maureen Mahan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very sad. Not shocking but very sad. The Catholic Church needs to come to terms with the fact that if they allowed priests to marry this sadness would not continue. Unfortunately in my lifetime this will never be the case

[Marsh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quick read, rambling story of guilt and pride.

[Erin · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was such a good book and was hard to put down! I decided to read this because I was a parishioner and student at the parish that Monsignor Gallagher was at. He was a lovely man and this story came as a complete shock to me. It was so well written and a real page turner. It was sad, heartwarming, and shocking all at the same time. Tony Beadle has lived an amazing life and is a great storyteller. Truth really is stranger than fiction.