In a rather unusual circumstance, I get a ring from Hennessy Coghlan-O’Hara. Such an occurrence is quite infrequent; I can count on one hand the number of times Hennessy has called, usually having me fetch the ‘Go Bag’ he is insistent on leaving in our loft before transporting him to Dublin Airport.
As the phone rings, I pick up without hesitation, not even waiting for him to strike up conversation before I promise to meet at the familiar position on Richmond Road. I joke, “How will I recognise you?” since he is ordinarily garbed in some sort of disguise.
His matter-of-fact response takes me by surprise, “This isn’t about me. It’s about your father.”
Taken aback, I question, “My father? What’s the matter?”
He responds gravely, “In all my acquainted years with him, I’ve never seen him in such a state.”
Puzzled, I ask, “Is he intoxicated?”
Disbelief colours his words as he refutes, “No, he’s — I can scarcely believe it myself — depressed.”
I echo his words in confession, “Depressed?” Because honestly, I have never known my father to appear anything less than content.
“Where are you now?” I question, and he responds, “The Horseshoe Bar.”
Stavoring some doubt, I enquire again, “Are you certain he’s not just drunk?”
His voice is laced with urgency as he instructs, “Just get here, okay? I’m short on words to help him through this.”
With a knotted frown, I set off towards the Shelly in my car, my mind wrestling with curiosity, probably mirroring your own bewilderment as to what this is all about.
I was there on the opening night — with my long-suffering golf companion and knowledgeable friend standing by my side.
As soon as I arrived, I immediately noticed the elderly man sitting alone at the bar, a large, untouched cognac sitting in plain sight before him, while he rested his head on his hands. Just a few steps from him stood Hennessy, resembling a distraught child hoping for an adult to mend his favourite toy. To think they’d been friends for 50 years, but they had never had a significant conversation.
I took it upon myself to approach the old man, opting for a patient and gentle demeanor.
“I hope you have a valid excuse for interrupting my time with my kids,” I said, hiding the fact that I took pleasure in such interruptions.
He greeted me with a somewhat melancholic, “Ah, you’ve made it, Kicker!”
I questioned him, disregarding his melancholic greeting, “Don’t just give me that, what exactly is happening here? Just how long has that triple cognac been sitting untouched?”
“All evening,” came his reply.
I sympathetically responded, “Christ, this is more serious than I’d anticipated.”
“I was present for the grand opening – alongside my knowledgeable and perpetually tolerating golf associate over there.”
“Opening of what, exactly?” I asked.
“Shanahan’s, on the Green,” he replied.
“Is this about Shanahan’s shutting down?”
“On opening night, I had the New York strip sirloin, and I can still recall how it melted on my tongue. As the restaurant staff escorted me to my cab, I remarked to John, ‘Dublin has been in dire need of this!’ We instantly became good friends, as you’re well aware.”
“Yes, I am aware,” I replied.
“After you won the prestigious Leinster Schools Senior Cup, we celebrated as a family there. Do you recall that, Ross?” he asked.
“I was suffering from a horrendous hangover,” I admitted, settling onto a stool next to him.
Suddenly, it all became clear to me! I now had a solid grasp on the concluding chapter in the life of Charles O’Carroll-Kelly.
“He mentioned, “I recall ordering a bone-in rib-eye that particular day. It was rare, making the plate look like a casualty of some gruesome crime. I also had a veritable mountain of their renowned onion rings and a bottle of Chateau Léoville Barton. That happens to be the evening John permitted me a turn on the beloved rocking chair once owned by the revered John F Kennedy.”
I retorted, “It wasn’t as though he offered a turn; you simply plonked yourself down on the icon and cracked it, if my memory isn’t foggy.”
“John was entirely gracious about it,” he insisted.
“Hence, he put it behind a secure glass display to prevent any future mishaps, didn’t he?”
“The very chair he used to sit and ruminate over strategies against the audacious Fidel Castro as Cuba and the missile issue threatened to plunge us into nuclear war. Such were the fantastic days.”
I replied dismissively, “If you insist.”
“And during my stint in jail – for an offence I did not commit of course–”
I promptly interjected, “Yeah, and if you could be truthful to the Mahon tribunal for once.”
Ignoring my interjection, he continued, “I remember lying on my top bunk during the first night, telling my cellmate that the first thing I’d do after getting out was reserve a seat at Shanahan’s on the Green and order a fillet mignon with peppercorn sauce, accompanied by their finest Domaine Ponsot Gevrey-Chambertin. That vision saw me through the sentence, Ross.”
I quizzed, “Your family didn’t factor into your release plans?”
He responded, “I walked out the gates on parole at precisely 5:30 and arrived at 119 St Stephen’s Green by 7pm.”
“Folks should stop dwelling in the past as much as you, mate. You need to focus on what’s ahead,” I advised.
He dejectedly responded, “I might be too old for that now.”
I reassured, “Definitely not. Recollect what you quoted Fr Fehily on when Kiely’s shut down and I was an emotional wreck over it. Good things end to make way for better beginnings, remember?”
His demeanor changed, brightening up all at once.
Excitedly, he retorted, “Ross, are you hinting at what I think you are?”
My response is, “Er, doubtful. Can you help me understand what you think I meant by that?”
He pivots on his barstool and says, “Hennessy, I apologise for my previous behaviour!”
Seeing Hennessy’s face light up is like watching a child find their misplaced favourite toy.
“Down that cognac, Charlie, it’ll confirm it’s you!” Hennessy states.
“I most certainly will indulge!” replies the elder gent. “And in fact, I’ll have another ten of the same!”
I respond, “Perhaps we should keep the volume a tad lower?”
The gentleman declares, “Ross has motivated me. This isn’t the first time he’s moved me! His words were exactly what I needed! And now, my future course seems crystal clear! I am certain of the final chapter in Chorles O’Carroll-Kelly’s life!”
In response, I admit, “I genuinely don’t have a clue what I uttered.”
With enthusiasm, the elder gent says, “Hennessy, let’s metaphorically get out our cheque books! We are purchasing Shanahan’s!”