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The Informer By Malachy McCourt |
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The extraordinary Malachy McCourt, actor, writer,
politician and proprietor of Malachy’s, a saloon on Third Avenue that became a legend in its time. |
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By Malachy McCourt James
Joyce wrote, “In the spirit of Irish fun they betrayed their leaders one by
one” and George Bernard Shaw chimed in with, “If you put an Irish man on a spit
to roast him you will encounter no difficulty in finding another Irish man to
baste him.” The British with the
blessing of Nicholas Breakspeare aka Pope Adrian iv invaded Ireland on the
pretext of restoring the country to the faith as founded by that other
British invader Patrick. Consequently many Irish including myself have a
somewhat violent reaction when we chance upon traitorous informing Irish men
many of whom see nothing wrong in dropping decency and becoming Conservative
in America. The British when they occupy a country impose the illusion of
superiority in all things culture, behaviour language, loyalty, be it India,
Ireland, Africa, Persia et al and they elevate people like Gunga Din to
secular sainthood. I am making a tenuous connection here but the actor who
played this anorexic traitor has a connection to this piece. I once had a
saloon called Malachy's on Third
Avenue. It was a lively place blessed by the presence of lovely young things
from the nearby Barbizon Hotel for Women plus horny young actors from the UK
not to mention correspondents from all over the place like Chris Dodd and
Tony Delano. Malachy’s was also the unofficial headquarters of the Irish
delegation to the United Nations which was headed at that time by Freddie
Boland and included Conor Cruise O'Brien and his then lover Maura McEntee.
Freddie Boland became famous for trying to gavel Nikita Khrushchev to order
while Nicky used his shoe to respond to Freddie's gavelling. I was introduced
to a Russian lad named Vladimir Bogachev, the UN reporter for TASS. The
friend who introduced us, Sam Jaffe, was a quietly humorous lad and as far as
I recall had worked for CBS and NBC as a correspondent in Moscow among other
places. There
was as it is said, drink taken and the memory is a bit befogged by same but
there was laughter, wit and loud renditions of the Irish songs and Bogachev
was quite good at getting down on his haunches and kicking his limbs in that
well-known Russian danger to life and limb they call a dance. Sometimes we stayed
at Malachy’s and raised the roof. There are other times we explored other
venues and wherever we went there was no doubt we were where we were. Loud,
irreverent, merry and energetic. One night we decided to go to a party in New
Jersey so the car had to be hired. Our party consisted of myself Sam
Jaffe,Vladimir plus Harold, a Brit
with a bad leg that like the Queen couldn't bend and Ed was totally
sightless. Off we went to New Jersey and returned safely despite my lunatic
intake of liquor. A few mornings after that event the doorbell rang which was
answered by my then wife. Standing there were a couple of respectable looking
men sporting broad brim hats and flashing badges. They identified themselves
as FBI and said they would like to talk to me. Linda showed them in and
summoned me from whatever dreamland I occupied at that moment. After a bit of
chitchat during which they kept their hats they got down to the business at
hand. What is the nature of your relationship to Mister Vladimir Bogachev?. I
said I didn't want to be rude but what business was it of theirs who my
friends were. They replied that Bogachev was a Soviet intelligence agent here
to gather information beneficial to the Soviet Union. So again why is he
friendly with you? And while we're at it tell us about those people who went
with you to New Jersey a few nights ago. They knew Bogachev and they knew me
and they knew Sam Jaffe but they didn't know Harold with the unbending leg
and they didn't know the blind man Ed. Who was he said one. I said he was our
driver. The questioner was about to write that down when he realised what I
had said. He slammed his pen down glared at me and informed me that this was
no joke and I'd better answer properly else they would take steps to deport
me. I at once informed him quote I was born here I am an American citizen and
you can't deport me un quote. That ended the interview. My last comment of them was that Malachy was famous for its
martinis and I think the Soviets wanted this secret recipe. They were not amused.
Some time later I secured my file under the Freedom of Information Act. One
part of which is said that despite my long hair, flowing red beard, obvious
Bohemian lifestyle, I displayed no outward signs of homosexuality. My file
had details of parties and visits to pubs and by a series of eliminations I
figure the person present at all these was Sam Jaffe who introduced me to
Bogachev in the first place. Sam was the nephew of the actor Sam Jaffe who
acted the Indian traitor Gunga Din and I wondered, can theatrical traitors
pass on their character defects to real life descendants. Bogachev returned
to the Soviet Union and after some years I tried to contact Sam Jaffe but he
was not friendly. I read he had died and the Times reported that he was a
supplier of information to the CIA and the FBI. I don't know to this day why
reporting the activities of a saloon keeper to the FBI was part of keeping America safe and secure. I don't
know what happened to Bogachev after he returned to Moscow but I do know, though
not within the realm of total recall, a good time was had by the capitalists,
the Communists and even some brain-damaged conservatives. May they all
including the CIA and FBI rest in peace. |
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