The Pogue of Nenagh

Shane McGowan was known for his kindness, especially to those struggling with addiction

I couldn’t tell you the first time I encountered Shane McGowan.

It could have been when he was a boy spending long summers in his family’s home in the country heartland of Carney. It is only a few miles away from the town of Nenagh, where I live and grew up. He was a few years older than me, but we were surely at the cinema, a hurling match, or an agricultural show at the same time.

I could have met him in the early 80s in Camden Town in the fashionable World’s End bar, in The Coach and Horses in Soho, among the fading bohemians, or The Duke in Elephant and Castle, where young Irish economic refugees came down from the surrounding squats.

I never took to punk culture. It was too angry and I preferred traditional music, but Shane absorbed it all: The Clash, The Dubliners, and Philomena Begley.

I used to go to a pub where the punks would gather, with their studded leather and Mohican haircuts, speaking in Donegal Irish. Shane must have been there too, for even London isn’t that big when you’re young and Irish and up for the craic.

When I first saw The Pogues they were playing support to Elvis Costello in Galway’s Leisureland. I was working as a roadie for the student union. A tall, strangely familiar young man – handsome, if you didn’t see his teeth – strolled about smoking. He wore the white shirt and suit of the man home from England from the sites and seemed a bit shy.

Nobody had heard of The Pogues in those days so we were totally unprepared when they launched into a rousing version of The Galway Races. Shane was roaring, hitting himself on the head with the lid of a Jacob’s biscuit tin for percussion, and the small crowd thought them hilarious. The general consensus was that they would never make it.

I wish I could say that I saw the groundbreaking fusion of punk and traditional music. But to me, and most of the crowd, they were a shower of humorous chancers, like drunk uncles at a London Irish wedding.

When I next saw Shane he pushed up beside me at The Well Bar in Nenagh on the Christmas Eve around the time Fairytale of New York had just become a worldwide hit.

The Irish are naturally cool around celebrities. Many of us have breathed the same air as Bono without making a show of ourselves or him. We quietly nudge each other when we think they’re not looking and carry on. Nenagh people soon became used to Shane, as an increasingly shambolic regular visitor. Like many of the diaspora, he always came home for Christmas.

The Irish are naturally cool around celebrities. Many of us have breathed the same air as Bono without making a show of ourselves or him

Most Dublin pubs have pictures up of Myles, Kavanagh, and Behan.

In most of those bars in the 1960s, if Myles came in they soon would have told him he had enough, if Kavanagh came in they would have ordered him out, and if Behan showed up they would have called the guards. We don’t speak ill of the dead, especially if they have become good for business. 

That’s what families do. We remember the good times and Shane, who was soon nicknamed ‘The Pogue’, was part of the Nenagh family. Many of my patients have told me of his kindness, especially those who struggled with addiction. He did a lot of good nobody will ever hear about.

On the day of his funeral, the town was full of visitors and while every pub had their big screens out for the Mass, and a lot of drink was consumed, there was no trouble, and the vibe was gentle.

Today a delegation of Government Ministers officially opened a new nursing unit. It seemed natural that they then went for a look at the Shane McGowan murals. It seems that the time has come to talk about his undoubted genius more than his demons. It seems that he will be honoured by a respectful and thoughtful celebration and not by drunken hooleys.

When Shane’s mother died unexpectedly in a crash, a young musician friend of his went to the funeral and found he had a minder for the day, who would buy the drink, make sure he didn’t make a fool of himself, and got home safely. Shane, in his shock and grief, took the trouble to look after the youngster.

That is just one story I know about, and there are countless others about ‘The Pogue’, who will always be remembered by the broad majestic Shannon.