By Michael Patrick O’Brien–
Angela’s Ashes—Frank McCourt’s 1996 haunting memoir about growing up in Irish poverty, alcoholism, and dysfunction—appalled and enthralled me. The story is poignant and gut-wrenching, but the writing is uplifting and clever, including even a creative one-word final chapter.
One day in March 2003, I found myself standing face-to-face with Frank’s younger brother Malachy. Instantly, I felt a wave of sympathy and admiration for the man who had survived the same childhood pathology as his Pulitzer prize-winning brother.
There also was a wee bit of magic in the air when we met. Malachy McCourt was in Salt Lake City to play himself in A Couple of Blaguards, the two-character comedy stage show he and his brother Frank wrote (and often starred in) about their misadventures in Ireland and America.
Before the Saturday evening show at the Rose Wagner theatre, Malachy rode through the annual Salt Lake City St. Patrick’s Day parade in a carriage drawn by two green horses. I met him later at the Siamsa, the post-parade festival held that year at the nearby Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox church social hall.
I was strolling with my wife Vicki and our three young children (Erin Kathleen, Megan Mary, and Daniel Patrick) when a man with white hair and bushy eyebrows approached. He was stout as a Guinness but agile as a leprechaun.
With a twinkle in his eye, he reached out his hand and said, “Good afternoon, I’m Malachy McCourt.” After a few minutes of polite conversation, I realized who he was. He was there to sell and sign copies of his latest publication called Danny Boy: The Legend of the Beloved Irish Ballad.
Book author is only one of several careers, professions, and pastimes outlined in the many news articles and tributes that have poured in recently after Malachy passed away on March 11, 2024, at age 92.
Born in Brooklyn, Malachy grew up in Limerick, Ireland in the troubled and tragic home depicted in Angela’s Ashes. He dropped out of school at an early age but read every book he could get his hands on.
He travelled back to the United States in 1952 at age 21, after brother Frank sent him the fare. With little formal education, Malachy worked as a longshoreman, dishwasher, and laborer before becoming a popular bartender in New York City.
He later opened his own tavern on Third Avenue. A frequent patron was his friend, the actor Richard Harris (Dumbledore in the first two Harry Potter movies). Harris also worked for a short time behind the bar at Malachy’s place
Malachy eventually left bartending to work as a radio talk show host and an actor. He appeared in movies (The Molly Maguires and Brewster’s Millions), in daytime television shows like Ryan’s Hope (playing a bartender), One Life to Live, and All My Children, and in various stage productions.
His 1998 memoir A Monk Swimming was a sort of sequel to Angela’s Ashes. Malachy wrote a dozen other books, and even was the Green Party candidate for New York state governor, finishing third in the 2006 election.
The New York Times article reporting his passing called him a “Gadabout,” saying he “applied his blarney and brogue to become something of a professional Irishman as a thespian, a barkeep and a best-selling memoirist.” The Irish Times wrote, “His death marks the end of a distinct era in Irish New York and of a remarkable picaresque life.”
Twenty years ago when we met Malachy, we bought one of his books, of course, and asked him to sign it. He chose to address his inscription to our own little Danny Boy. Malachy wrote: “To Daniel, great to meet you. Sing it!”
We shook hands, wished each other well, and moved on, hungry for a corned beef and cabbage lunch after our morning of parade-watching.
As I have aged, I’ve realized that not every memorable encounter in life must be long.
I never expected to meet Malachy McCourt some 20 years ago at a Greek Orthodox church while celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but I did, briefly. It was the luck of the Irish.
After we met, I started to read his works and words more carefully. The man knew how to turn a phrase. Some of my favorite turns are two bits of Malachy’s advice—to all of us when dealing with troubles and to those folks like me who aspire to write.
On life, in 1998 he told The New York Times, “I had a murderous rage in my heart of Limerick, the humiliation of coming out of the slums…Let those things live rent-free in your head and you’ll be a lunatic. Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”
On writing, shortly before I met him in March 2003, Malachy told a KUER radio interviewer that the Irish are “famous for turning language into a form of sorcery.”
Is there a certain sorcery in Malachy McCourt’s rags-to-riches story which now has reached its final chapter? Tis. And, no doubt, his words are magic.
*Mike O’Brien (author website here) is a writer and attorney living in Salt Lake City, Utah. Paraclete Press published his book Monastery Mornings, about growing up with the monks at the old Trappist monastery in Huntsville, Utah, in August 2021. The League of Utah Writers chose it as the best non-fiction book of 2022.
