Every year Ronnie O'Gorman stopped his car opposite University Hospital Galway to admire its Christmas tree. He would sit and reflect while basking in the warm glow of its twinkling lights.
He never failed to be touched by what this remembrance tree, which he described as a lovely symbol of light in the darkness, represented. To him, it was a reminder that hope can transcend sorrow.
His words offer a poignant insight into this humble and pioneering man who was a gifted writer and editor. Much has been written about his vision, humanity, the vital role he played in shaping the city he loved so dearly, his talent as a historian, and his unstinting support for the arts.
Yet, it was as a champion of ordinary people and their causes that I will remember him best and most fondly. He opened readers' eyes to the 'hidden' Galway, the social problems and taboo subjects that were not coffee table conversations in the 1980s yet blighted many people's lives.
He was quietly determined that his community newspaper would shine a light on areas such as homelessness, AIDS, domestic violence, suicide, rape, child abuse, poverty, and Traveller rights, issues which were shrouded in darkness for far too long.
He had courage and strength of purpose and wanted to do much more than report the facts or let cold statistics tell the stories. He delved beneath the surface and gave people who did not have a voice an opportunity to tell their often raw and painful truths and, in doing so, he helped heighten awareness, shift people's perceptions, and ultimately, change the fabric of society.
A compassionate listener, he was generous with his time and his valuable newspaper space. He was a campaigning editor in the truest and most meaningful sense of the word and opened his heart and his news pages to ordinary people who had extraordinary and heartbreaking stories to tell.
A woman who lost a baby to sudden infant death spoke about her grief and I remember he was inundated with handwritten letters from other mothers who felt alone with their loss. Some had lost babies many years ago to miscarriage or stillbirth and wanted to tell him what it felt like to be left with an empty pram and a baby's name that would never be written on an official document. I remember him, even quite recently, bemoaning the fact that society had such difficulty in the past acknowledging these deaths.
Over the years, I remember lovely parents whose sons (it was almost always sons ) had gone missing and sadly, died tragically. Ronnie would have covered the stories and many of these utterly bereft families would call to the office weeks later to thank him for his kindness and sensitivity.
A sense of connection
He had all the highly prized attributes of a fine newspaper man. He was curious, creative, (he wrote great headlines ) and knowledgeable, and he was fascinated by the world and its people. He had blazed a trail by establishing Ireland's first free newspaper in 1970 because he recognised the importance of print media. He knew newspapers can strengthen communities by raising awareness and building a sense of trust, belonging, and connection.
In the early years, he ran a one-man show, selling advertisements, covering local authority meetings, writing articles, often by hand, and laying out the paper. I worked alongside him for years and marvelled at his unflappability and the way he led by example. There was a very lighthearted side to him, too, he used to tell the funniest stories, most of which were at his own expense. He would set the scene so well and include such a level of detail that you were transported laughingly into the moment.
The newsroom was always at the top of all the Advertiser premises. He joked that that worked to his advantage because anyone who wanted to complain about something in the paper had to climb at least 35 steps to get to his office. By the time they got there, most were gasping for breath and they could not remember what they wanted to give out to him about in the first place.
He loved descriptive or colour pieces and sent this writer off to interview a secret service agent who was in the city prior to the visit of the then US president Ronald Reagan in 1984. I headed off merrily with the enthusiasm of youth. Then it dawned on me that this was going to be a very one sided conversation! It actually turned out to be a very entertaining exchange. Of course, Ronnie had anticipated all of this.
Another time, he somehow decided that Mike Shaughnessy, our photographer, and myself should attend the Paris fashion shows. We rubbed shoulders with supermodels, designers, and celebrities and by the end of the week they were convinced that the Galway Advertiser was a fashion bible to rival Vogue! And why not? Didn't we have Naomi Campbell on the front page!
Ronnie had other links with Vogue, too. A visiting PR manager from Estee Lauder, the cosmetic company, was very impressed when she visited the Advertiser's former office at Church Lane. She was excited to see that each floor in the Advertiser was decorated in the same colours as British Vogue where she had worked previously. Ronnie had chosen the colour scheme even down to the red and yellow doors.
This week marks the end of an era for Ronnie's Advertiser family. We will miss him bounding up the stairs, greeting us all with a cheery word, and exuding optimism and joie de vivre. A bright light has gone out in the building and in our hearts.
