| Dennis Duggan  By
Tom Deignan
Perhaps it is a term of affection. Perhaps it is not. Either way, they
are called "the mick clique.” They are a generation of pavement-pounding
Irish journalists, many of whom began working when New York City had almost
a dozen dailies.
Last week, one of the most beloved and respected members of the clique
died. Newsday’s Dennis Duggan, the son of Irish immigrants, passed
away at the age of 78. It was hard to find anyone who had a bad thing
to say about Duggan, the man or the writer.
New York Post media columnist Keith Kelly offered this memory to Irish
America, “I was traveling through Ireland last August on a Sunday
afternoon listening to the radio when who should I hear on the radio but
Dennis Duggan chatting about life in America.” Kelly was referring
to Duggan's regular Sunday gig with Sam Smyth on Ireland's Today FM. “I
last talked with him a few weeks before St. Patrick's Day. He must have
been pretty sick by then but I didn't know. I invited him to the annual
Kelly Gang St. Patrick’s Day party raising money for Catholic Charities
in New Orleans to help Katrina victims. He said not a word about his illness,
but simply said, ‘Send me an invite, ‘'d love to go’”
Indeed, anyone who ever met Duggan – who was suffering from several
ailments – knew they had met a genuinely decent soul.
Dublin-born, Greenwich Village-bred novelist Dermot McEvoy told me, “Now
that Dennis is gone another part of New York – and Greenwich Village
– has died. There will be no more drinks at the Lion's Head with
the Mets game on in the background. And there will be no more ‘loves
and kisses’ at the end of his e-mails. But there will be memories
of someone who loved life, loved New York, and above all, loved his friends.”
It was that old Village watering hole the Lion's Head – the so-called
joint for drinkers with writing problems – that put me in touch
with Duggan for the first time. We spoke about an oral history of the
Head which Duggan thought would be a great project for a young Irish-American
writer to take on.
McEvoy, Frank McCourt and Pete Hamill all told me I needed to speak to
the man they simply called “Duggan.” As part of the project
Duggan, with his signature wit, said that the Head was a place for “Jews
to drink like they were Irish, and for the Irish to think like they were
Jews.”
Former sandhog and novelist Tom Kelly told me, “Back when I was
just thinking about being a writer Dennis was very encouraging. He was
with me the first time I ever saw my own book in a book store. I tell
you I think he was more happy about it than I was. He was a real inspiration.”
Duggan's parents Michael and Anne settled in Detroit before their son
came east and landed a $42-a-week copyboy job at The Daily Mirror. Duggan
was proud to say he still possessed all of his old press passes. In his
Daily News column Denis Hamill noted that following Duggan's death, “appropriate
rain fell for two days on all five boroughs, where (Duggan had) left so
many indelible footprints.” All these kind words, however, cannot
replace the hole in Newsday, not to mention the city’s fabric, left
by Duggan's passing. When I heard he died one thing came to my mind. His
advice on the Lion's Head oral history manuscript? “Move quickly.”
Why? “Because all the old regulars are dying off.”
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