By Michael Patrick O’Brien–
My paternal grandfather, whom I never knew, was a writer too. When I finally read some of his writing, I discovered we share a conversational style and an affinity for dry humor. And what a comfort to learn that my grandfather was vexed with the same trivial trials of life as me, they just happened about seven decades earlier.
One of them is what I call the same name problem, the often comic miscommunication that occurs when you get calls or messages meant for your name doppelganger. There are not many Michael O’Briens in Utah, but there are a few, and I (the lawyer) regularly get odd calls looking for the radio journalist (not me), the boy scout leader (again not me), or the corporate/finance lawyer (per se malpractice if it was me).
My grandfather Don O’Brien had the same but opposite problem. He was the journalist who got calls from folks seeking Don O’Brien the lawyer. During one delightful week in the Summer of 1953, each Don O’Brien wrote about the experience in their local newspaper.
Their exchange is so enjoyable, I decided to devote the rest of my weekly blog to it.
***
Here’s what Don O’Brien (the journalist) wrote on August 17, 1953 in the Burlington Free Press:
With an uncommon family name like mine, you wouldn’t think there’d be any trouble about mistaken identities.
Even with two Don O’Briens (son and grandson) in my own family, there was only an occasional mix-up. Then another Don O’Brien had to shove his puss into the picture – a lawyer, no less.
Did you ever notice that there’s always some kind of a tangle when one of them comes around. I say that with no disrespect whatever because I do not want any lawyer to get mad at me.
And besides, Lawyer Don O’Brien (full name Donald E.) is the son of my longtime Church Street neighbor, Cyril the mailman.
Anyway, this barrister’s charming wife went to the hospital for the ceremonies attendant upon the arrival of a new member of the family. A few days later my Constant Companion and I got a few congratulatory cards.
In the County Court House, I hear them calling for Don O’Brien and hurry over – only to find that they want the lawyer, not the newspaperman. Now and again we spend some time resorting and redelivering the mail.
One evening I got home to find an urgent message to call a number up in the Islands immediately. Somebody, I thought, has a hot story for me. I hurried the call through. On the other end was a gentleman who wanted the other Don O’Brien to handle some legal matter.
I dallied with the idea of taking it on and maybe picking up a nice little fee. But then wisdom overcame avarice. And besides I thought of all the trouble this namesake might dish out to me. So I put the Islander onto the right man.
Virtue always reaps its reward. Rev. Norman C. Webster of Swanton walked into Lawyer O’Brien’s office recently and told him: I want you to know I liked your Free Press column on ‘spiritual vitamins’ so well I used it as the basis of a sermon.”
O’Brien, the barrister, upped and told him the man he wanted was Scribbler O’Brien. And so it goes.
***
A few days later, on August 21, 1953, the newspaper published this delightful response from the “other” Don O’Brien (the lawyer):
Since your Don O’Brien, better known as “Scribbler,” has told of his problems arising out of the confusion between the two O’Briens, Scribbler and Lawyer, I think I should show that there are similar problems on the other side.
One of the main jobs of a person attempting to start a business or build up a professional practice is to get people to identify his name with his business or profession. Every time I’m introduced to someone I expectantly wait for their, “oh, you’re the lawyer,” but instead it’s always, “Oh, you’re the writer for the Free Press.” Sometimes I wish Scribbler would write for the Hong Kong Courier.
The morning Scribbler’s recent article appeared about the confusion, I happened to go into a local jewelry store. When I stated my name the owner said, “ah, Vermont Vignettes, eh?” “Yes,” I said, thinking that because of the article he would make the correct identification. Then came, “I certainly enjoy your stories.” So, as Scribbler says, it goes.
Now when someone compliments me on “my stories” I don’t enlighten them, I just sit back and enjoy their nice remarks.
*Mike O’Brien is a writer and attorney living in Salt Lake City, Utah. His book Monastery Mornings (found here), about growing up with the monks at the old Trappist monastery in Huntsville, Utah, will be published by Paraclete Press (more information here) in August 2021.
