Pat Egan: ‘I wouldn't want to be going into the music industry today'
Pat Egan for This Much I Know
We were a Second World War family. My two sisters, Margaret and Carmel, and my brother Jim were born during the war. I was born in 1946, the year after the war ended. My father had disappeared to England during the war because there was no work in Ireland — except for one night, the night I was conceived. He never came home after that. I never met him.
The children didn't have a tough upbringing because we didn't know what tough was.. but my mother had a very tough time. Thankfully, she came from a very big family, and they were very good to her.
My siblings and I were extremely lucky not to end up in a State institution — it was only because my grandmother was a fiery woman and she more or less told the parish priest that her daughter Mary's children were not going to be put into any institution, they were staying with her. That was quite the thing at that time, because the Church had such influence over everything. From there on, it got a little easier for my mother.
When we started to work, we all chipped in. Despite the fact that we had nothing, we had a quality upbringing in terms of care and attention, there was always had food on the table. I had no complaints. I was the youngest so I got away with things the others didn't get away with.
I have four children of my own now. I wasn't a very good dad in my early days, but I have matured over the years and realised the value of family and loving people. I think there's no greater achievement in life than to have a strong family. It's amazing how families, once the father and mother die, tend to splinter and break up because of all kinds of things, whether they fall out over a will or it's just that they go different ways in the world — family is is the number-one value in my life now.
I heard my first record at a boys' club run by the Jesuits, It was by Hank Thompson, an American country song. I was probably 8 or 9 and that was my first introduction to music. There was no real entertainment business in the 1950s in Ireland. There were theatres and stage shows, but the only way for me to have gotten into the industry would have been to go on stage and dance or sing: I had two left feet and I couldn't sing to save my life.
I kind of fell into the music businesses having heard some rock and roll on the radio in my grandmother's house. I thought Elvis Presley and all that stuff was amazing and thought ‘that's what I'm going to do, I'm going to do something in showbusiness'. I moved from being a messenger boy in a big firm to a disc jockey in an early beat club called The Number Five, Harcourt Street.
In the early 1960s, there were opportunities in the music industry. There weren't that many, but I was lucky. I hung out with all the young people that were trendy at the time, then I started to write for Spotlight magazine and it all took off from there. I wasn't a very well educated writer. My punctuation and my spelling wouldn't have been great, but I still got the job and wrote about all the big groups of the day. That's how I happened to meet Rory Gallagher, Van Morrison and Phil Lynnott. Phil was four years out from Thin Lizzy when I met him. We hung around town quite a bit, chasing girls and buying records and all that stuff.
The music industry has changed so much in my lifetime. There's no opportunity there anymore. I wouldn't want to be going into the business today. There is no variety left: there used to be theatre shows, musicals — there's very little of that in Ireland now. You have to go to London. And it's a very tough apprenticeship working in London. They don't let you become a star in those musicals, it's all about the brand.
The greatest challenge I've faced in my life is that I believe in fairy tales, and they haven't always come true. When that happens, I can get a little disheartened about life. Everything doesn't always go to plan. The best-looking girl didn't always want to talk to me, which probably broke my heart more than anything else.
My greatest quality is my loyalty, especially to the people who put their neck on the line for me in the early days of my business.
My earliest memory is around my first Holy Communion. I suppose it was the first social event in my life. I went to St Patrick's in Drumcondra and I remember all the boys going for a big breakfast after we made our Holy Communion and my sisters coming to meet me afterwards and giving me a small present.
The greatest advice I ever got was from Cork promoter, Oliver Barry. He always said to me: 'When you're doing a deal, Pat, make sure to take the first 20% off the top for yourself because chances are you're not going to get anything at the end'.
What surprises me is the human spirit and the goodness of people. There always seem to be somebody that will help you no matter what kind of shape you're in whether it's a charitable institution, a neighbour or a friend. There is always help.
Being 75, I am scared of tomorrow. I'm not scared of dying as such, I will look forward in a way to dying as long as I'm not in terrible pain, but I am scared of the unknown. Life is a long and winding road, but unfortunately at my age, there is not so long left.
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