Ronnie (A story)

Ronnie
By Angela Macari O’Looney

Being the daughter of a successful band leader and multi musician, has its advantages along with its disadvantages.
For one thing, I spent my childhood surrounded by odd shaped cases containing various musical instruments, music stands, orchestrations, tapes and records, both vinyl and seventy eights that were heavy to hold and crackled loudly while being played on my Dad’s beloved record player.

Emilio Macari, my late father could play Piano- Accordion, keyboards, Sax, Clarinet, drums; the list is endless!
He also gave music lessons which could be quite tedious for us in such a tiny house, where we’d have to regularly endure squeaks or bum notes from the efforts of students over and over. On top of which the hours that a musician’s life involved, meant that we seldom saw him in the evenings or early mornings. Even in the afternoon, during his short break between gigs, he would go for a stroll around Dublin, or take in a matinee in the Savoy or Carlton Cinemas.

This was the irregular and unpredictable life of a Band leader and his family!
However, there was an upside to the hectic and demanding lifestyle he chose, which was that we had regular visits from very high profile figures in the business, who’d invariably call for the loan of a musical arrangement, a record or simply to discuss a forthcoming gig. Well known celebrities were an everyday occurrence for us kids. There was always a few of my Ma’s scones, ham sandwiches or a Gateaux Swiss Roll kept handy for such events.

My first memory of the late Ronnie Drew was on one of these occasions, when he called in unexpectedly for a chat. I was sitting on our hall table with my friend playing with dolls, when the knocker on the big hall door of our house rapped loudly. I jumped down, running to open it. Outside was a cheerful man with a beard and a grin, who simply said in a deep voice ‘Is Emilio there?’

My Dad came out and they went inside, talked and played records. When he was leaving, Ronnie pinched both my cheeks, laughed and said ‘Ah me oul’ Sagotia!’ affectionately.
Over the years I realised through T.V., the radio and parents of friends how famous this gentleman, who to us was just Da’s friend actually was!

Life is so funny! I joined Dublin Bus in 1982 and conducted the number 48A route for three years. My driver, a German called Bernt was a well known figure in the job, but he also had once been the Coach driver who took ‘The Dubliners’ on tour around Europe. What a coincidence!

I told him about my Dad’s long standing friendship with Ronnie and how we had had lots of visits from the bowld Mr. Drew when I was but a young lass!

My mother Maureen often told us of the many plays that my Dad took her to, when Ronnie was an actor, which was before his Dubliner days. One such play was ‘Richard’s Cork Leg’ and her anecdote about her reaction to the flowery language in it i.e. threatening to walk out, always makes me laugh!

Anyway, Bernt and I often swapped tales since he had many enjoyable drinking escapades, funny events and singing sessions to tell of. He also told me about the many beautiful places they toured in the good old days!
I became a bus driver in 1988 and Bernt and I parted company. But we kept in touch and some years later, he asked me if I’d like to go as his guest, to Ronnie Drew's house for Christmas Dinner. I was honoured and although it meant driving over snow covered Wicklow hills to get there, I will always remember the event as one of the nicest days of my life!

The Drew house was surprisingly similar to the house I grew up in, which sadly met a tragic fiery fate!
It had a big hall door and an airy hallway just like the one where I first met Ronnie. Inside, there were many people along with Deirdre his wife, his children and grandchild. At the table, I was given a choice of a traditional Christmas Dinner, or Salmon En croute. In the end I had a taste of both. Deirdre was a tremendously talented cook.

After the meal everyone gathered around a table in the sitting room where Ronnie took out his acoustic guitar. We sang and some who didn’t have to drive had a few drinks. I sipped a Coca Cola and just languished in the great man’s company as he sang lots of old favourite Dubliner numbers. I even got a chance to perform my humble rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘The Boxer’ on the beautiful guitar.
Bernt was miffed at how I had so much to discuss with Ronnie about my late father, my mother and my brother Eugene, whom he admired as one of the finest guitarist in the land.

Bernt, who never went far without a camera took photographs. I put one on the wall in my little house in Saggart, where I lived until I got married in 2003 and moved to Rathcoole. Somewhere among my photo albums it hides and occasionally pops out and I admire the lovely guitar in my hand, Ronnie Drew sitting beside me and the both of us singing away. I have another of him lifting his grandchild high in that way that grandads do.

On leaving the party that night, Ronnie asked if there were any recordings of my Dad that he could have. We only had a cassette at the time, with my Dad performing a few of his favourites on piano. My Mother wouldn’t part with it, but later on for her 80th birthday, my brother had it made into a c.d. There are only a few copies of which I have none alas!

The shock and disbelief I experienced last August on hearing of his passing, was overwhelming. Only a short time beforehand his beloved wife Deirdre had gone. Ronnie was ill for a while and he fought bravely. He appeared on a special tribute R.T.E. Late Late Show with lots of celebrities speaking of their claims to his friendship and inspiration. Proudly I told my husband of the happy memories I’m fortunate to have had, of this entertaining and unique man.

My mother and I were on pilgrimage in Lourdes France when the news came, of the death of our good friend. We shed tears and lit him a candle at the Grotto. I hope one day to see my dad Emilio and Ronnie gigging in that great big theatre in the sky!
R.I.P. me oul’ Sagotia!