Bawdy Jokester Gets Another Chance
By Carrie Trousil
 

Malachy McCourt writes like a bawdy jokester because he is one. But his new book Singing My Him Song (HarperCollins, 2000,$25) tells about the living that goes on behind the boozy facade as well as in the spotlight -- the real life joke-fodder that isn't always funny. Divorce, debt, alcoholism and all the related pains are confronted face-on in Singing, but don't worry about crying. The Irish are known for dark humor and McCourt is definitely an Irish comedian, adept at twisting the black into the silly and coming out stinking like a rose.

McCourt recently appeared at Milwaukee's Irish Cultural and Heritage Center where I interviewed him before his scheduled reading (actually, what transpired was more like an impromptu comedy show than a reading once McCourt dropped his book and decided to tell jokes).

We met in a semi-secluded music practice room carpeted in green-shag, after pausing to watch some young ladies practice their Irish dance in an upstairs gym. "Now this is what I like to see," he said with a wink.
McCourt is a big man. He is also famous and a semi-lunatic from what one can glean from his writings. So why isn't he intimidating? McCourt has an air about him that makes it impossible -- he's just friendly. 

Our first topic of conversation centered around the recent success of the McCourts', and specifically about Malachy's new jaunt as a writer. Why would writing suddenly appeal to an actor/public performer?

"With the book," he said, "you can cast yourself in all the parts. You can be the director, the producer, the lighting designer, the stage designer, the whole bloody lot. Nobody can tell you who to put in, or who to put out. You're it."
And he has done very well with writing, especially considering that it was a career he never intended to pursue. The opportunity kind of fell into his lap. He said, "Frank opened the door in that -- because someone had said to me, 'Well, maybe you have a book in you, too.'" He obviously did. In fact, he has already had two published and there are more to come.

With this in mind, McCourt said, "There is half a billion words in the English language, and I think I'm going to use them all. That's my ambition. It's a good old horse to be on, so why not?"

On the serious end of things, we talked about the fact that in Singing My Him Song , McCourt had to address the unfunny topics: his dealing with alcoholism, debt and family problems. One might think this would be a troublesome topic for McCourt, being the tough guy that he is, but it wasn't.
"It's an Irish thing, that we consider it sissyish to talk about tenderness, about love. But now I believe that a true man, who is balanced, has a substantial amount of the female in him." So now that McCourt has found his balance, his female side can do all the hard talking. 

McCourt seems to really stress those issues such as balance and temperance, which makes sense -- he has been sober for the past 15 years, a state of existence he has to think about every day. And although Singing is funny, there are definitely undertones of dark times and regret that McCourt will not try to hide.

"I am not particularly proud of a lot of stuff in there, because that came out of drinking -- as a consequence of stupidity. I did things that were pretty rotten. I failed my first wife, and my children," he said. "I'm not particularly proud of that. I know the stuff seems sort of colorful, but I look back and I cringe at what I did." 

Thankfully. McCourt has kicked his bad habits and is still around to talk about it, and to partake in this latest bout of family fame.
In regards to criticism that McCourt is riding off the fame of his brother Frank's book Angela's Ashes, Malachy had an interesting response. He said, "Some people say that I'm riding on Franks coattails...and I am. And I don't give a horseshite what those people say."

And although this answer seemed to suffice, it must be noted in his defense that McCourt's first book was a New York Times best seller, a hard pinnacle to reach on a coat-tail. McCourt just seemed to slough off the rivalry thing. He said, "It's a nice feeling and I like the idea that we can find some kind of a success, even if it comes late. I love it."

The most important feeling McCourt stressed repeatedly during our chat wasn't about his fame or about family rivalry. It centered around something so much more simple and non-threatening -- thankfulness.
He wanted to talk about the fact that his true happiness emanated from just being around today -- and still having his family by his side despite his colorful past.

"It's been a pretty wild life, a pretty wild ride. I look back on it and say, 'God, I just blew so many so many opportunities'. It's wonderful to have another chance in life, a lot of people don't get that. I've buried a whole lot of people, and it's just very sad."