Ronald Reagan's Irish Wit - Tom Purcell - MensNewsDaily.com™
MND
COMMENTARY
Ronald Reagan's Irish Wit
June 8, 2004
by Tom Purcell
It was St. Patrick's Day, 1988, when an unexpected visitor arrived
at Pat Troy's Irish pub: President Ronald Reagan.
For more than 23 years, Pat Troy's Old Town, Alexandria pub has been
a favorite watering hole for some Washington insiders seeking a respite
from their hectic lives. Some of Reagan's advance men were regulars.
They arranged the president's visit.
The pub was half-packed when Reagan and his entourage arrived just
before noon. As news spread that Reagan was there, the pub quickly filled
to capacity. While Reagan enjoyed a pint of Harp and some corned beef
and cabbage, Troy was so busy tending to his pub, he didn't have time
to react to his famous patron.
"He had an energy about him that put you instantly at ease,"
Troy told me. "He made it easy to carry on as though he was just
another patron, so that is what I did."
Troy took the stage and led the audience in the "Wild Rover."
He had sections of the audience compete with each other to see which
would sing and clap the loudest. "You have to clap louder, Mr.
President," he said to Reagan, prompting the president, not used
to being given orders of any kind, to laugh.
Next, Troy led the audience in the Unicorn Song. While Troy sang the
words, the audience mimicked the animals referenced in the song ("There
were green alligators and long-necked geese, humpty backed camels and
some chimpanzees, some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're
born, the loveliest of all was the unicorn.")
Reagan turned to watch a group of young women behind him act out the
song. His face showed curiosity and delight - he never saw this song
performed before. But that was how he was: at the same time he was the
world's most powerful man, the man who felled communism and restored
American optimism, he was also a man of youthful innocence who found
immense pleasure in the most simple things.
When Troy was finished, he handed Reagan the mike. The normally raucous
crowd - remember, this was St. Patrick's Day - became extraordinarily
quiet. "They were spellbound," said Troy. "I've never
seen a large crowd that attentive."
Reagan spoke off the top of his head. He graciously thanked Troy for
having him for lunch. He said it was his great surprise - that his advance
men set it up and he was thankful. He talked about his father, an Irishman.
"When I was a little boy, my father proudly told me that the Irish
built the jails in this country," he said, pausing expertly, "then
proceeded to fill them."
The crowd laughed heartily.
"You have to understand that for a man in my position, I'm a little
leery about ethnic jokes," he said. The crowd roared. "The
only ones I can tell are Irish."
He told a story about his visit to Ireland. He went to Castle Rock,
the place where St. Patrick erected the first cross in Ireland.
"A young Irish guide took me to the cemetery and showed me an
ancient tombstone there," he said. "The inscription read:
'Remember me as you pass by, for as are you are so once was I, and as
I am you too will be, so be content to follow me."
As Reagan paused, the crowd eagerly awaited his follow up.
"Then I looked below the inscription," he said, "where
someone scratched in these words: 'To follow you I am content, I wish
I knew which way you went."
The crowd roared loud and long, causing Reagan to deadpan to his advance
men: "Why didn't I find this place seven years ago?"
Reagan's visit to the pub was videotaped by the government and wasn't
released to Troy until three years ago. It offers a snapshot of pure,
unscripted Reagan, and it shows how powerfully and eloquently the man
was able to engage any audience, large or small, just by being his genuine,
unimposing self.
Well, now that this fine man has moved on to a better place, I know
he is enjoying a peace and happiness that is much deserved. He left
the world significantly better off than he found it.
The next time I visit Pat Troy's pub, I'm going to order up a Harp
and offer up my own small toast to the Great Communicator:
"To follow you we were intent, and damn thankful for the way we
went."