They don’t make them like Steve Duggan anymore. The question is – did they ever? The Monsignor was like many immigrants – neither here nor there. H...

There are bands, and then there are great bands. What makes a band great? Well, obviously, the members, particularly if one, or all, have a vision....

I first encountered Malachy McCourt at a sparsely attended Irish-Americans for McGovern meeting in the fall of 1972. He was accompanied by Brian He...

One of the joys – and occasional banes – of writing a regular column is that it engages you with your readers. A recent column beginning with Frank...

Michelle O’Neill’s elevation to become Northern Ireland’s First Minister was a momentous event, full of hope and possibility. Even in the glory day...

They were called The Silent Sentinels. Members of the National Woman’s Party, 33 of them were sentenced to prison in November 1917 for protesting o...

Well, it’s finally here – 2024, the year of the bitch! Rest assured, sisters, this has nothing to do with any gender-based slur, rather a recogniti...

“Any Irish person who’s not writing a memoir is a feckin’ eejit.” Frank McCourt was heard to proclaim when "Angela’s Ashes" became a bestseller. Bu...

The first wave arrived home around December 15th and contained many seasoned “deep-sea” sailors. My father was often among them, suntanned from the...

It was one of those moments you remember forever. I was standing stage-side at London’s Brixton Academy with Frank Murray, manager of The Pogues, S...

There were bars, and there were bars, and then there was The Village Pub. It perched atop Bainbridge Avenue in The Bronx. It was a small place owne...

Because I host Celtic Crush on SiriusXM, I am occasionally asked about the state of the arts nowadays. Well, Broadway has yet to fully recover from...