Ronnie Drew

The Early Days at the Dublin Telephone Exchange

Back in the 1950s, if you rang the operator late at night in Dublin, there was a fair chance the lad on the other end of the line was a young Ronnie Drew, but if you asked him - he wouldn’t be able to sing McAlpine’s Fusiliers to you. Not yet.

Before he became a towering figure in folk music, he was working the night shifts at the city's central Telephone Exchange. He spent his working hours connecting calls and mixing with a lively crowd of night owls and local artists. Moving into the city centre for work was a massive shift from his early years growing up out in Dún Laoghaire. Working those night shifts gave him a completely new perspective on life. He started to read heavily and immerse himself in the local culture. It was right there among the late-night workers and storytellers that the man who would change Irish music forever really started to find his voice.

Early Life in Dún Laoghaire

Ronnie Drew was born in 1934 in the village of Glasthule, Dún Laoghaire. He became famous for his gritty, working-class persona, but his early days actually had a touch of unexpected polish.

His father was a carpenter and his mother was a seamstress. They were a glamorous pair who were award-winning ballroom dancers, and they actually eloped together when her parents opposed the marriage. Things shifted for young Ronnie when he was three years old. With another baby arriving, he was sent to live with his maternal grandparents.

His grandparents lived in an upmarket house on Tivoli Terrace. They could afford this grand spot because his grandfather had won a substantial sum of money on the Irish Hospitals' Sweepstake. Because of this, he grew up in a much fancier environment than many of his future peers in the folk revival.

He was fairly pampered growing up, remaining in that household into his twenties. He was doted on daily by his grandmother and three childless aunts. The family had high expectations for him to move up in the world. They were dead set on him securing a steady, pensionable job where he would head off to work in a suit every morning.

He spent much of his life pushing back against that kind of respectable, middle-class lifestyle. However, later in his career, he frequently performed wearing a very sharp suit himself. It was a subtle, knowing wink to the Dún Laoghaire roots he was supposed to have left behind.

School Days and the Working World

School was a nightmare for the young Ronnie Drew. He attended CBS Eblana in Dún Laoghaire. While his classmates knew he was sharp, the strict rules and constant rote learning simply did not suit him.

The teachers at the time could be incredibly harsh. Because he struggled with maths, they forced him to carry an abacus around the school as a form of public shame. It gave him a massive inferiority complex.

To escape the miserable classroom environment, he spent a lot of his time "mitching" - playing hooky and avoiding school altogether. He would hop on his bike and cycle out to Leopardstown Racecourse. That is where his lifelong love of horses really began. It was a passion that stayed with him, and years later, two of his own horses actually won prizes at the Dublin Horse Show.

Despite having a beautiful boy soprano voice and singing in the local church choir, nobody at the school ever gave him a pat on the back or encouraged his musical talents. He eventually walked away from education entirely, leaving without even securing his Inter Cert.

By the time he was seventeen, he was drifting from one job to the next to make ends meet. He spent time as an apprentice electrician. He later took a job in a drapery shop. He even crossed the water to London for a while, finding work as a hotel lift operator and a kitchen porter. These tough early jobs exposed him to all walks of life, shaping the grounded, working-class perspective that he would eventually bring to folk music.

After returning from London, everything changed for him back in Dublin. He secured a job working the night shifts as a telephone operator at the city's central exchange. This job became a massive turning point. It was there that he met a vibrant crowd of artists and writers who opened his mind to literature and a completely different way of looking at the world.

The night shifts were also where he really sharpened his famous wit. He frequently told stories about listening in on the private dramas of the city. There is a famous story about him dealing with the impatient wife of the Minister of Posts and Telegraphs during a delay on the line. It apparently went something along the lines of this…

Minister’s wife: "Do you know who you are talking to? I am the wife of the Minister of Posts and Telegraphs and I’ll have you sacked in the morning"

Ronnie: “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Minister’s wife: “No…”

Ronnie: “Thanks be to Jaysus!” … *disconnects the call*

It is interesting because even though he became the absolute face of the gritty, Dublin folk music scene, he never forgot his suburban roots. He regularly joked that a real inner-city Dubliner would never claim someone from Dún Laoghaire as one of their own. Having a foot in both worlds - the comfortable suburbs and the rougher, working-class streets - gave Ronnie Drew a unique perspective. It allowed him to understand the true heart of the city and eventually share its stories with the rest of the world.

The Spanish Odyssey and a New Sound

In the late 1950s, Ronnie Drew headed off to Spain for about three years. It is mad to think how much that trip ultimately shaped the future of Irish folk music. He originally travelled over to teach English, spending most of his time hanging around Seville and Madrid. He became fluent in the language, and crucially, he took lessons to learn how to play the flamenco guitar properly.

He pursued other interests during his time in Spain as well. He briefly worked as an extra on the set of the epic film Lawrence of Arabia. That job earned him his Equity acting card. It also gave him a strong taste for the theatre, something that would heavily influence his later career.

Looking back, that time away was exactly where he picked up the tools for his future success. He had been heavily interested in folk music since he was about nineteen. Spain gave him a completely different approach to playing it. Back then, most musicians in Ireland used a very simple, basic strumming pattern on the guitar for traditional ballads. When Ronnie returned home, he brought those percussive flamenco finger-picking styles with him. He started applying those Spanish techniques directly to Irish songs.

This approach gave his playing a driving energy and a distinct urgency that you simply did not hear anywhere else. It eventually became the absolute trademark sound of The Dubliners. Armed with this new guitar style and his newfound acting experience, he began performing in shows at the Gate Theatre alongside John Molloy, a celebrated Irish actor at the time.

That collaboration was the major turning point. It laid the groundwork for him to start the band. Following the trail blazed by The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem in the United States, The Dubliners grabbed that momentum and kicked off a massive ballad boom right at home in Ireland.

The Dubliners Era and the Ballad Boom

The Dubliners were the absolute making of him. They turned Ronnie Drew from a lad drifting around into a proper international icon in the world of folk music. After he returned from Spain and finished those theatre shows with John Molloy, things started moving incredibly fast.

In 1962, he went on a ballad tour of Ireland alongside Luke Kelly, Barney McKenna, and Ciarán Bourke. At first, they called themselves the Ronnie Drew Ballad Group. Ronnie was never entirely comfortable having his own name front and centre. It was actually Luke Kelly who suggested the name The Dubliners because he was reading the famous James Joyce book at the time. Once John Sheahan joined them in 1964, they had the classic five-man lineup that changed everything.

The band was the perfect fit for his rebellious side. They had absolutely no interest in the old-fashioned, strict way of performing traditional songs. Instead, they shook the scene up entirely. They brought bushy beards and rough street songs to the stage. They performed with the raw energy you would expect to find in a rowdy working-class pub. Comedians like Billy Connolly and fellow musicians of the era regularly compared them to a folk version of the Rolling Stones, which gives you a brilliant idea of their wild reputation.

That flamenco guitar style he learned over in Spain really stood out in this setting. It gave the old ballads a driving, urgent feel that nobody had ever heard before. The writer Dominic Behan even got involved to help them sharpen up their act for bigger concert halls. He actually arranged the song McAlpine's Fusiliers specifically to showcase that iconic, gravelly voice of Ronnie's that we know and love.

Seven Drunken Nights

The group absolutely exploded in 1967 when Seven Drunken Nights became a massive hit. Ronnie took the lead vocals on that track, and it caused a serious stir. RTÉ placed an unofficial ban on the song because they felt the lyrics were much too suggestive for the time. Naturally, the controversy only cemented their reputation as a brilliant rebel crowd.

The song ended up flying into the Top 10 over in the UK, and they even secured a spot on Top of the Pops. They built a massive fanbase all over Europe, and international legends like Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix were known to admire what they were doing.

Inside the band, there was a fierce bond between the members. Naturally, you had plenty of clashing heads as well, especially between Ronnie Drew and Luke Kelly. The two men were worlds apart in a few ways. Luke possessed a more refined singing voice and was deeply involved in communist politics. Ronnie had a rough, abrasive delivery and largely stayed away from the union politics of the time. They would have intense political debates. At the end of the day, they held huge respect for each other and remained the best of friends.

The way they lived matched their wild image. Ronnie later admitted that those early years on the road were essentially one long party filled with heavy drinking. This lifestyle led to some right madness, including a famous incident where Luke got himself lost around the canals of Amsterdam right before they were meant to go on stage. The band eventually realised they had to pace themselves to keep the show on the road.

The Irish Rover and Stepping Away

By 1974, Ronnie was completely worn out from the constant touring. He was deeply shaken when his close friend Ciarán Bourke suddenly fell ill with a brain haemorrhage. He decided to step away and try a solo career for a few years. He eventually rejoined the group in 1979.

One of their biggest milestones in the history of folk music happened in 1987. For their 25th anniversary, they teamed up with The Pogues to record 'The Irish Rover'. It became a massive hit. This collaboration perfectly bridged the gap between the grand old rogues of the scene and the wilder new generation. The Pogues heavily looked up to Ronnie and the lads as the pioneers who paved the way.

He finally stepped away from the band for good in 1995. He felt the routine had gone stale and the constant repetition of the same setlist was starting to feel far too much like a regular, pensionable office job. He wanted the freedom to explore new creative paths. His years with The Dubliners did more than make him famous; they helped make Irish ballads popular all over the world. By the time he finished with the group, the lad from the Dún Laoghaire suburbs had firmly become the true voice of Dublin city.

A Solo Career and New Frontiers

We mentioned earlier that Ronnie Drew eventually wanted to break away from the traditional Irish folk music circuit to try something different. His curiosity actually started much earlier. In 1978, he headed over to Norway to explore their musical traditions. During that trip, he recorded a song titled "Sky is the Limit" with a Norwegian group called the Bergeners. The track ended up becoming a notable success across Europe.

After he officially stepped away from The Dubliners for good, he released the solo album Dirty Rotten Shame in 1995. The record went straight to number one in Ireland. It was a polished piece of work that clearly demonstrated how much the biggest names in the industry looked up to him. Icons like Bono and Shane MacGowan contributed to his solo work, eager to write and perform alongside his unique vocal style.

From that point forward, he had a massive appetite for trying new things and seeing where the music would take him. He recorded extensive material with the singer Eleanor Shanley. He collaborated with an Italian pianist named Antonio Breschi. He even crossed genres to record tracks with the American punk band the Dropkick Murphys.

He was never afraid to push the boundaries of his craft. He made a striking appearance on an album called The Celtic Poets by Jah Wobble. Wobble was an English bassist and composer, and the project featured Ronnie reciting stark poetry over heavy electronic and dub music. Throughout these later years, he proved he was a restless artist who was constantly looking for the next creative challenge.

Going solo also gave him the chance to lean heavily into his acting side. He put together fantastic one-man shows, including the celebrated Ronnie, I Hardly Knew Ya!. In these performances, he mixed his singing with deeply personal stories and poetry. He brought the words of writers like Brendan Behan and James Joyce to the stage, keeping the show fiercely connected to the streets of Dublin.

He knew exactly how to use his distinctive voice to tell a compelling story. Around 2006, he released a major collection of Irish myths and legends. He went far beyond simply reading the old stories from a book. He spent time talking directly to older folk to ensure he captured the authentic, traditional versions of the tales. Around this same era, he also recorded beautiful narrations for Oscar Wilde’s classic children's stories.

Humility and The Final Session

When you look at the whole picture, Ronnie Drew was a man who never let fame go to his head. He remained incredibly humble about his talents within the world of folk music. He was always the first to admit that he did not possess the traditional, polished singing voice of his friend Luke Kelly. He understood that his real strength lay in his delivery. He knew how to pace a line and make the listener truly feel the weight of the story.

He was always quick to slag himself off, too. He often noted that the best compliment he ever received did not come from a massive, sold-out show at the Royal Albert Hall. It actually came from a jazz musician in a London club who heard him singing the classic ballad 'Raglan Road'. This man knew absolutely nothing about Ronnie or Irish ballads, but he was completely captivated by his vocal phrasing. That genuine, unbiased praise meant the world to him.

Even towards the end of his life, when he was very ill and dealing with the heavy heartbreak of losing his beloved wife Deirdre, he never stopped working. In his final months, he recorded one last album titled The Last Session: A Fond Farewell. It was a beautiful, jazz-influenced record filled with touching duets featuring artists like Mary Coughlan and Damien Dempsey.

Ultimately, his solo years proved his massive depth as an artist. He boldly experimented across genres. He kept Irish literature alive through his unique storytelling. He started out as a restless lad in the Dún Laoghaire suburbs and ended up becoming the raw, honest voice of the entire country.

Family Life and Contradictions

Away from the rough image everyone saw on stage, the personal life of Ronnie Drew contained the same fascinating contradictions he grew up with. At home, he was a devoted family man with a deep love for horses and a thoughtful approach to life.

His marriage to Deirdre McCartan in 1963 was a story in itself. She was an actress from a highly respected, middle-class background. Her father was a well-known doctor and a prominent figure in politics. Her mother strongly disapproved of the match, looking down her nose at him, calling him the minstrel, and even refusing to attend the wedding.

The couple got hitched anyway. In typical Ronnie fashion, the reception was a massive session in O’Donoghue’s Pub. They ended the night in a restaurant drinking wine out of a teapot. Deirdre became the absolute heart of the home. She kept an open house for all sorts of artists and musicians. She was the one who kept the ship steady while they raised their two children, Phelim and Cliodhna, out in Greystones.

Horses and High Principles

His major passion outside of folk music was horses. It all started back when he used to skip school to head out to Leopardstown Racecourse. Once he moved out to Greystones, that love for the animals really took flight. He was a highly skilled rider who owned his own horses and picked up prizes at the Dublin Horse Show. He was so handy in the saddle that the NYPD actually made him an honorary member of their mounted unit back in 1969.

When it came to his worldview, he was a man of strict principles. He could not stand anyone putting on airs, and he absolutely despised greed. He considered himself a Catholic, but he had zero time for the wealth and hierarchy of the Church. He believed that if Jesus returned today, he would act like a union leader - fighting for a fair wage for the working man and kicking the money-lenders out.

He was completely honest about his own finances as well. He freely admitted to blowing the vast majority of his early earnings on heavy drinking and constant taxi rides. He did not possess the cunning business mindset required to buy up property and build an empire. He preferred it that way. He was genuinely glad he never ended up as a wealthy landlord charging people rent for a roof over their heads.

He had a highly practical way of looking at what comes next. He often described himself as a bit of a coward or an agnostic, simply because he struggled to buy into the traditional idea of heaven. However, when he fell ill, he gladly accepted the Mass cards and prayers people sent him. He saw them as people being incredibly kind and sending a bit of positivity his way, which he was more than happy to accept.

Final Years

In late 2006, the man who had become the definitive voice of Dublin received a diagnosis of throat cancer. The aggressive treatment took a heavy physical toll. He famously lost his trademark bushy beard and jet-black hair. Despite the hardship, he kept his sharp sense of humor, often joking to friends about his new, gaunt appearance.

The hardest blow came in June 2007. While right in the middle of his own treatments, his beloved wife Deirdre passed away. They had been together for over forty years, and losing her completely floored him. With the fierce support of his children, Phelim and Cliodhna, he found the strength to keep working through the grief.

During this difficult period, he began writing his autobiography. He wanted to get his life story on paper, tracing the journey from a young lad in Dún Laoghaire to a global icon of folk music. His failing health prevented him from finishing the manuscript himself. His family and close friends ultimately pulled together his notes and interviews to publish the book after he passed. During this same era, RTÉ broadcast the moving documentary September Song. It offered a deeply honest look at his illness, his grief over Deirdre, and his massive cultural legacy.

The Ballad of Ronnie Drew

When it became clear his time was short, the Irish music scene rallied to show their immense respect. In January 2008, a massive supergroup calling themselves A Band of Bowsies gathered at Windmill Lane Studios. The group included members of U2, The Dubliners, Shane MacGowan, Sinéad O'Connor, and Christy Moore (to name literally only a few). They recorded a tribute track titled 'The Ballad of Ronnie Drew'.

Bono and The Edge co-wrote the track. The original plan was for Ronnie to sing on it, but when he grew too weak, it became a grand, celebratory tribute instead. Bono remarked at the time that Ronnie was the King of Ireland and the rest of the musicians were simply his subjects. In typical fashion, Ronnie ensured every single penny made from the number-one single went directly to the Irish Cancer Society.

Ronnie Drew passed away on August 16, 2008, in St. Vincent's Hospital at the age of 73. He was buried in Greystones following a funeral that celebrated his life with the vibrant, joyful spirit of a New Orleans jazz send-off.

A Lasting Legacy

When you look at the broader sweep of Irish history, he stands as a vital cultural pillar. You can clearly hear his direct influence today in modern acts like The Pogues, The Mary Wallopers, and the Dropkick Murphys. Even though the President of Ireland formally praised him for breathing new life into the nation's heritage, he never let the praise inflate his ego. He remained deeply humble until the end, routinely brushing off his massive achievements. For the Irish at home and the diaspora across the world, his voice will always be the true, authentic sound of Dublin city.