Sure, Ronnie, I Hardly Knew Ya…

Being a big fan of The Dubliners all my life, I consider myself lucky to have met Ronnie on more than one occasion. I was aware of his reputation for being grumpy, but never found him to be anything other than an absolute gentleman. On one occasion, after a gig he played in the arrivals lounge at Dublin Airport, I was with my mam and my grandad (as well as my younger sister and brother). Going back to meet him after his set, he signed a number of autographs (with my grandad’s pen) and posed for a photo with me. Unfortunately, there was no film left in Mam’s camera, but Ronnie patiently waited as another man came along and took the photo (which he later posted to me). My grandad, who wasn’t leaving til he got his pen back from Ronnie, told him I had met John Sheahan from The Dubliners the previous year, to which Ronnie replied: “Johnny’s a good man.”
On another occasion, some years later, I again got to meet Ronnie after a gig in Andrew’s Lane Theatre. This time, I had brought along the cover of his latest album in the hopes of getting it autographed. Dad was with me and we had brought along a pen, but unfortunately we had left it in the car. Again, aware of Ronnie’s reputation for grumpiness, I wasn’t sure how he would react, but again – ever the gentleman – he walked around asking: “Has anybody got a pen so thgt I can sign an autograph for this young man?” He made sure he got one and he signed the album cover for me, for which I was very grateful.
Ronnie was my hero and I still miss him, but feel privileged to have met him and that he was so kind to me on the occasions I did meet him. He went out of his way both times to accommodate me and I always appreciated that and admired him for it. Behind the grumpy exterior was a heart of gold.

Met him once in the course of my professional duties. “Where are you off the next, Ronnie”, I asked when he’d completed the task in hand. “A tour Of Germany”, He said, before adding. “Then we head to the Faroe Islands. They love us up there. Nothing in the place, of course. Put up a set of traffic lights they think it’s a disco”. And then he was gone.

Typo: I meant ears, not eyes.

Ronnie Drew….Ah now, what can one say? The man was one of a kind and no mistake. My first experience of the man, took place one sunny morning, a sunny morning after a rather raucous night, it must be said. I was walking down Killincarrick Road with a good chum of mine, whom I will call Johhny, to protect the innocent. Both of us had experienced a most pleasant night and were still basking in the feeling of well-being that teenagers often do.

For some strange reason, Johnny was holding a rather brightly coloured balloon, of which he seemed rather proud. Thanks to the state we were in, this didn’t seem in any way incongruous to the pair of us, as we slowly meandered down, towards the station. All was well with the world and we were looking forward to a cup of coffee and mayhap a doughnut. At this stage, there was nothing to indicate the peril we were about to encounter in but a few short moment.

As we passed the Drew household, without warning, a young urchin (Phelim I suppose), sprinted out from the dark hallway, grabbed my friends much-prized balloon, laughed in our faces, before zipping back inside. Johhny was stunned! This attack was so sudden, we both stood, mouths open and rooted to the spot. I then started to giggle a bit, as one would, given the circumstances. Johhny turned to look at me and for a horrible moment, I thought he might even wallop me.

His face was a mask of indignation as he stared at me for a second or two, before he spun on his heel and brazenly chased the fleeing youngster up the short path and into the house. I was terrified. Dear God, did he not know who resided within? Things went quiet, in the parlance of old movies, almost too quiet, then it happened.

I watched as my friend slowly backed out of the doorway, closely followed by what looked like a pantomime demon! Jesus, it was Ronnie. Beard bristling and gimlet eyes staring through Johhny’s very soul, the voice, when it came, was dripping with menace. It looked as though Ronnie himself, had also had quite a good night. Peering out from behind Ronnie’s back, was the aforementioned balloon thief, a broad smile on his face, obviously taunting us and revelling in our combined discomfort. “Wha do yous two want?”

I was quite impresses at my friend resolve, as he didn’t burst into tears at this rasped question. Ronnie’s voice was like a horny fingernail being dragged down a rough blackboard. I wanted to scream and run, but to give Johnny credit, he spoke in a shaky voice, whilst pointing at still- grinning Phelim. “He stole my balloon!”

Ronnie seemed nonplussed for a few seconds as he eyed the pair of us up and down. Bracing myself for a torrent of abuse and possible a physical assault, imagine my relief as he turned and looked at his son…..now looking a tad less secure. After a theatrical pause for effect and obviously making the decision that these two buffoons were not worthy of further effort, he spoke to Phelim in a calm, measured way. “Give the man his balloon back!”

Once this command had been uttered, he turned back to us as Phelim handed over his ill-gotten gains. Giving us the benefit of a rather pitiful stare, he disappeared back inside. I think even Phelim was a teeny bit shocked, as Johnny and I went on our merry way, still shaking at our lucky escape.

Looking back, I like to imagine that Ronnie went inside and laughed himself sick as he watched our reactions through the front curtains. The man was a true legend and as far as I’m concerned, a complete gentleman and one who is badly missed.