If you walk down Middle Abbey Street in Dublin, past the former offices of Independent Newspapers, and look up above an insignificant doorway beside what is now the entrance/exit to Arnotts car park, you will see a small plaque on the wall.
Four years ago in the first week of November it was unveiled by the late Gay Byrne in what was his last public performance. The date for the unveiling was appropriate, and the choice of Ireland’s most famous broadcaster to carry it out could not have been bettered – because Gay had met and befriended the Beatles before practically anyone else outside of the north of England was aware of their existence.
As for the location – Arnotts’ car park and part of the store now stand on the spot once occupied by one of Dublin’s big cinemas, the Adelphi, where the “Fab Four” from Liverpool topped the bill in two concerts staged there in the one memorable night: November 7th, 1963.
Paddy Murray was only 10 years old when that concert took place, so he was too young to go to the Adelphi, but he became a lifelong fan of the Beatles and, in 2018, he decided it was time that Dublin should mark their historic 1963 visit by putting a plaque on the site. Despite the fact that he was coping with a long-term illness, Paddy, a retired journalist who began his multifaceted career just a few doors down the street, put all his energy and persuasive powers to work, contacting city councillors and tracking down people who had been in the audience, or who had had anything to do with the Beatles.
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He even rang me. I had known Paddy since we both, along with Dermot Morgan, worked on scripts for RTÉ’s “The Live Mike” show (and we had more laughs together than ever appeared on the screen). He knew that I had been to the Adelphi that night and also that, being a young journalist at the right time in the right place, had even met the Beatles. Could I come along to the plaque unveiling and recite my party piece once more about meeting them, attending the concerts and then witnessing the mini-riot that ensued in Middle Abbey Street? I didn’t need much persuasion.
A few hundred souls were assembled at the appointed hour of 11am. The Lord Mayor Neil Ring was master of ceremonies, but the star of the show that chilly morning was of course Gaybo. He arrived, chauffeured there by his friend, businessman Harry Crosbie and he seemed, I thought, a bit smaller than I remembered him. He was well wrapped up, hatted and coated against the bone-freezing breeze. As the Lord Mayor and others addressed the multitude there was some fond reminiscence and much lively banter. Paddy Murray had rounded up quite an assortment of people who had stories to tell – including even one of the gardaí who had been on duty at the cinema that night, and a member of the St John’s Ambulance whose job it had been to carry fainting girls out of the audience to recover in the foyer.
Gay sat quietly on the chair provided, and chatted amiably with those around him. Everyone was being very solicitous and making sure to keep him out of the wind. Then it was his turn to speak.
The microphone worked its magic. As soon as Gay was in front of it, he seemed to lose the pallor that had been evident when he arrived. He had the crowd laughing immediately at his tale of his early encounters with the Beatles - not in Dublin but in Manchester where, in the early 1960s he was more famous than they were. He was one of the presenters of Granada Television’s popular teatime news magazine where the Beatles made some of their earliest appearances.
His big finish was the revelation that Paul McCartney had asked him to be the Beatles’ manager. “They thought I was more important than I really was, just because they’d seen me on television a lot, and I was a bit older than them,” said Gay, “but I told Paul I knew absolutely nothing about management, so I had to turn down his offer.”
Gay paused and timed his parting shot “Imagine that! I could be a multimillionaire today … or maybe dead from drugs years and years ago!”
After the laughter he unveiled the plaque. That was followed by a small reception in the pub across the road, but Gay had slipped quietly away. He died almost a year later, on November 4th, 2019.
Paddy Murray too has slipped quietly away. In his last year he wrote several columns for the Irish Times about living through the Covid pandemic while coping with cancer and COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), which had affected him for 20 years. He finally capitulated on February 24th this year.