Donors
Roy Frock, William MacBride, William Mattox,
Lou Woyce, Mike and Karen Yates
Hawk Chalk, Vol. X, 1971
Cornelius F. McFadden (1911-1971)
An Appreciation
— by William G. Mattox December 1971
One of America’s outstanding falconry gures
is gone. Cornelius (Corny) McFadden died on
19 July at the young age of 59. I met Corny 23
years ago, but know little about his early life--we
never seemed to reminisce beyond World War II!
Hence this essay is more a personal appreciation
than a necrology. I may not have known Corny
as well as some falconers, but we trapped the
eastern beaches together and endured the rigors
and thrills of a trip to Greenland for gyrfalcons,
experiences which make up for not having years
of daily contact.
I met Corny rst in 1948, but soon thereafter I
went away to college and we hawked together
only during holidays and in the summer. We
kept contact by numerous letters throughout
the 13 years I was in Quebec-Labrador and
Europe. Corny’s letters were unique, includ-
ing cryptic comments translatable only by using
one’s knowledge of the man, exciting hawking
tales, and what his close friends called “shop-
ping lists”--a long enumeration of items which
he wanted you to acquire for him and which he
deemed essential to his life-style. His exhuberant
personality always shone through in his colorful
prose, whether it expressed his perennial hopes
of “getting back to Greenland and don’t tell Mary
a word” or his desire to acquire enough wolf pelts
to have a fur coat made for his daughter Crissy.
Here was a man whose unique type will never
be known again in our sport Corny was a col-
orful gure who cut a wide swath. Everything
was done with his own personal pizzazz, which
showed him to be a man of courage and air.
The mark of a man is the inuence he has upon
others. Corny’s inuence was great. He was the
very essence of a man’s-man with a magnetic
personality. His “army” included young men who
hawked with him and went on to become suc-
cessful in many elds. There are salesmen, ex-
ecutives, mechanics, PhD’s and surgeons who
got the encouragement, inspiration, and ofttimes
harsh words they needed from the “Big Man”.
No one who had the colorful and unique person-
ality of Corny could possibly go through life with-
out antagonizing some. There may have been
men jealous of Corny’s casual and grand style.
Others may have used the word “gall” on more
than one occasion, but these people could not
possibly have known Corny well, for all who did
know him took Corny’s idiosyncracies and man-
nerisms for what they were—the excusable traits
of a man who was different.
For here was a man many lesser men would like
to have been. Here was a man who said, “I’ll do
it.” And he did. Indeed, some of his accomplish-
ments, like the Greenland trip, seem impossible
in retrospect. He approached things in a singu-
larly energetic way, exemplifying the thought that
“you only go around once in life”, and lived life
to the fullest—an approach bound to dismay the
more timid.
This might lead the reader to think that Corny
led a high, racy, and tenuous existence. The key
to the man was just the opposite. Corny was al-
most puritanical in his life-style. If there was a
family man, a church-goer, an idol for growing
youth, and a one-man crusade for not wasting a
moment of precious life, Corny exemplied that
man.
Though a holder of the puritan ethic, Corny was
no tin-pot saint, no zealot out to convert others.
As an athlete and a clean-liver, he considered
smoking messy and, of course, an insult to the
body. But he pressed his point only half-heart-
edly, not wishing to offend. (He was never able to
convince Lou Woyce to kick the habit, and regret-
ted the fact.) Nor did he do more than snort a few
times when the rest of us opened the beer after a
long day of running the beaches of Assateague.
I guess Corny preferred friends to have a beer or
two rather than to threaten his ubiquitous orange
juice and milk supply. And beer never did go well
with ginger snaps, or with his famous “dirty cook-
ies”.
An honest appreciation of Corny McFadden must
include facets of the man which he himself made
no attempt to hide. Corny spoke often of “con-
ning” someone, usually involving extensive use
of his well known “gift of gab”. Most everyone
was powerless to resist the golden tongue of
Irish blarney, the probing wit, the poking nger in
chest, the “con” at its most rened, honest, and
harmless level. Whether it was sanding the sail-
boat or cleaning the hawkhouse, the young men
who frequented Corny’s home in Chestnut Hill
were put to work on a variety of tasks considered
a fair quid pro quo for just being around the man.
The jobs were attacked with vigor, for it was a
pleasure to please the master. Everyone seemed
to develop a specialty as part of the “army” from
printing up photos, taking jeeps apart down to the
last bolt, or stitching hoods. Everyone was eager
to please Corny, because his close friends knew
he had a heart of gold and that he always gave
more than he received. In short, Corny would do
anything for those he knew, and the attitude was
contagious.
It might have been “conning”, but it was a most
benevolent kind.
This all leads to an attempt to sum up Corny
McFadden as a man, a friend, and a falconer.
His little quirks of tardiness, his overbearing per-
sonality, his monopoly of most situations—these
all were but a minor part of the man. More to the
point was Corny’s genuine interest in people, his
complete dedication to the ideals he held, and
In the Poconos around 1940. Corny
with gun, sidearm and buckskin.
L–R: famed arctic explorer and author Peter Freuchen,
Bill Turner, Corny, and Bill Mattox, in New York at The
Adventurers’ Club where McFadden spoke on the Green-
land Gyrfalcon Expedition (December 1951).