Tom Dunne: Tony Fenton was a great friend, and one of the funniest people I ever met

Tony Fenton's 10th anniversary had me recalling happy times with a man who was a major part of the heyday of music radio broadcasting in Ireland

Tony Fenton passed away in March 2015. Picture: Marc O'Sullivan

Wednesday, March 12, was the 10th anniversary of the passing of Tony Fenton. To most people in Ireland, he was one part of the ‘Golden Era’ 2FM line up. When the Gerry Ryan Show was an institution and Ian Dempsey, Gerry Ryan, Larry Gogan, Gareth O'Callaghan, Dave Fanning and Tony soundtracked our lives.

To me, he was also a very good friend, and one of the funniest people I ever met.

I was already quite close with Tony when I met my wife. In short succession the question “Might Tony join us?” became ubiquitous in all social settings. There was no moment in life that wasn’t improved by the addition of a little Tony.

There are too many stories: The night he ordered “five blue drinks” in a night club; the day he handed the wine list back with the words “Premier Crus please, it’s a Premier Crus kind of day;” or ordered “more Goldie Hawns” in an Indian restaurant.

All of this he would deliver in that plummy on-air voice; rich, dramatic, beautifully enunciated. Arthur Mathews, of Father Ted fame, knew Tony too. I can’t believe Tony isn’t in some part the inspiration for Arthur’s Toast of London creation, although a much more gentile character than that Matt Berry portrays.

A night when Tom Dunne and Pele got to mingle with Tony Fenton. Picture courtesy of Tom Dunne

RTÉ 2FM, launched with much fanfare in May 1979, was a vital part of this country’s long journey from black and white to colour. Pop music had long since helped change the world elsewhere before we got it ‘on tap’ via the pirates. Radio stations playing non-stop music was a game-changer.

2FM, Ireland’s version of BBC Radio 1, was relatively late to the party. It seems absurd at this point that the 1960s passed Ireland by without that glorious soundtrack of The Beatles, Bob, The Stones and all that talent not issuing daily from our radio. But better late than never.

Tony was a bit late to that party too. He made a name for himself on Pirate Radio before auditioning for 2FM during the shake up that would see Gerry Ryan move from his nighttime slot to mid-morning. The Ryan Line was about to open and Irish radio would never be the same again.

The era of the Roadcaster, the Beat on the Street, the Lark in the Park, the Eye in the Sky, the Fanning Session and Tony’s Hotline – “You’re a winner!” – was upon us. From 1988 to around 2000 it was a happy time for all involved with audience share and advertising revenue at record highs.

Tony was born for this. He’d been a DJ whilst still at school. The day he finished his last exam he threw his school bag under the stairs, looked at his mum and said, “That’s it, Ma, it’s music from here on out.” And it was.

He loved music, loved people, loved Chelsea (was a gifted footballer and played at Home Farm with Ronnie Whelan), loved food, loved gigs, loved cars, loved going out and was great company. I never saw him down. If there were dark moments, and there must have been, they didn’t show.

Tony Fenton behind the decks at the Globe nightclub in Cork in 1998. Picture: Mark Kelleher

Two moments stand out: His efforts to get me and Paul Buchanan of the Blue Nile to sing at a session in Johny Foxes pub being one of them. The pub had a keyboard player, and the idea was to sing with him. Tony kept putting our names in the hat, Paul kept refusing to sing.

Eventually I broke. Tony asked me to sing Elvis’s Devil in Disguise. “But when you get to the chorus,” he said, “point up at the ceiling dramatically and sing ‘You’re the Devil in De Skies’ like you’re pointing at clouds.” I did this but only once. As I went to sing the second chorus the piano player stopped. I looked over. “I think we’ve seen quite enough here,” he said bitterly, giving me a look that would curdle milk. I looked out. Tony appeared to be about to die laughing.

The second one was an odd night. I took some ‘odd turn’ and my wife called an ambulance. I threw her my phone and told her to call my boss (Tom) and tell him I wouldn’t be in. She called Tony by accident. He got to the hospital before me.

I was in a cubicle as he gave the nurse outside my details. “Your friend’s profession?” she asked. “DJ,” said Tony. “No wait, Top DJ” he added. I laughed so hard I set off a heart monitor.

We still miss you, mate.