After his sudden death earlier this year at the age of 67, friends and family this week gathered for a memorial service in St Mark’s Church, Dundela, to pay tribute to man whose life took him from knocking around the Belfast punk scene in the band Shock Treatment to being a guest at the Oscars as a respected media figure, before moving into high-powered executive and consultancy roles. Family, friends and old colleagues all paid tribute; here, the News Letter brings full recollections of everyone from Radio DJ Mike Edgar to the the Primate of All Ireland, Archbishop John McDowell. School friend Nigel Beacom said he had “the privilege of attending Belfast Royal Academy (BRA) with Barry from 1969 to 1976”, adding his first introduction to the future publishing giant is “still clear in my mind as if it were yesterday”, despite more than 50 years having passed. He said: “Let me take you back to the 30th of August 1969. We were just starting our journey at BRA, gathered in the Derbyshire building on Cliftonville Road – all the new first formers, about 100 boys and 100 girls. “Suddenly, in walks this tall lad with a fuzzy mop of ginger hair. He looked like a giant among the rest of us nervous 11-year-olds. That was Barrington McIlheney, or ‘Chick’ as we knew him as. Not sure where this nickname came from. Little did we know that this larger-than-life character would become such a central figure in all our lives. We were to become the Class of ’76, and what a fun, unforgettable time we had. “From the very beginning, Barry stood out; not just because of his height or his hair, but because of his spirit. He was a natural leader, whether in the classroom, the playground, or on the rugby field. He exuded confidence and charisma, but never arrogance. Barry was a big lad with a big personality, and an even bigger heart. “We spent seven wonderful years together, and I wouldn’t describe Barry as just a schoolmate or a friend – he was more than that. We all loved Barry. He had that rare gift of lighting up every room he walked into. He always had time for you. He cared. And of course, we had great craic along the way. Barry’s impersonations of the teachers were legendary. I can still hear the exasperated cry: “McIlheney! What are you doing?” It was a regular refrain in those days. “He was clever, articulate, quick-witted, and truly could have succeeded at anything he set his mind to, but it was clear from an early age that music was his passion. I remember the first band he was in; Essence, I think it was called. I had the honour of driving them around to gigs; the school disco, the Ophir disco, and even once, to my eternal amusement, the dreaded Pig ‘n’ Chicken. “That love of music, that drive, carried him into a hugely successful career in the music and publishing industries. He made a real mark, and did it his way, with humour and flair. “Barry was always great company. He always had an answer. In all the years I knew him, I don’t think I ever saw him angry or down – he took everything in his stride, with that cheeky grin and that glint in his eye. “For those of us here today from the Class of ‘76, we look back on those years with so much fondness. We were and are fortunate; fortunate to have known Barry. Fortunate to have shared those years with him. Fortunate to have called him our friend. Thank you, Barry. For the joy, the laughs, the music, the memories. You were a star. And you always will be.” BBC radio DJ Mike Edgar was both friends and colleagues with Barry, working with him on alternative music show ‘The Bottom Line’. As he recalled, even as his career took off in England, he’d still make sure to phone in reports to Radio Ulster – leading to some memorable moments. Said Mike: “Like so many of us gathered here today, I feel so lucky to have had Barry as a friend. He really was a very special man and that in itself is borne out by how many people are here today to celebrate Barry’s life and to throw a huge hug around Lola, Frankie, Mary, Colin and the wider family. “I really loved Barry, and really enjoyed his company; I guess we had similar interests and dreams. We both had the opportunity to write for the local papers, we both loved music, and we both played in bands in Northern Ireland in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Ultimately across the passage of time one of us was slightly more successful than the other – and, yes folks, it wasn’t me. “I first got to know Barry well when a wonderful man in the shape of music producer Davy Sims brought Barry, myself and Mickey Bradley from the Undertones together to host a nightly show on BBC Radio Ulster and later BBC National Radio 5. The show was called ‘The Bottom Line’ which later became known as ‘Across the Line’. In short, it was a programme that played new music, interviewed bands and talked a lot of nonsense about youth culture, entertainment and showbiz. We felt we were tailor-made for the role! “The programme offered early opportunities to the likes of Sinead O’Connor, Neil Hannon and Therapy? whilst also cherishing relationships with everyone from Terry Hooley to Stiff Little Fingers and U2. “Barry was a massive part of the programme from day one and even when he went on to greater things in the world of publishing, he still kindly contributed to the programme week after week, year after year. “Barry occasionally hosted the programme on his own, but he became most loved for his weekly reports from London where he would go into an unattended studio in BBC Broadcasting House and join us every Wednesday night with all the latest gossip and scoops from the Big Smoke. Before too long he became appointment to listen and actually had a very loyal radio following, people just loved his chat which was delivered in that entertaining, happy go lucky and slightly cheeky style that only Baz could deliver or get away with. “It’s worth remembering that this was a pre-digital world with no internet, mobile phones or social media and only four TV channels, so, when Barry made a weekly appearance here on the BBC radio airwaves, people hung on every word and indeed talked about it the next day. Thanks to Baz we got all the scoops and gossip, and on occasion he gave them to us even before they got printed in the latest issue of whichever publication he was leading at the time. I’m not actually sure how he got away with it with the likes of [magazine publishers] Emap. “We were solid friends and we had many rock ‘n’ roll adventures together bringing our show, live and recorded, from the likes of the London Fleadh, the Irish Music Awards or Slane Festival. “Barry had an unstoppable passion for music and everyone you could think of in the world of music had respect for him, and rightly so. Without Barry I would never have encountered the crazy worlds of Vince Power or The Pogues. They all loved him. Every festival we recorded at would centre around the challenge of bagging a killer interview with Shane Magowan, Rory Gallagher or Christy Moore, but maybe not Kevin Rowland. That’s a whole other legendary story. “Without a shadow of a doubt, I can say that my most uplifting broadcasting moments over 40 years were with Barry McIlheney, and usually live broadcasts where something would be said that would reduce us both to laughter and tears that seemed to go on for an eternity. “I don’t know what it was but we always seemed to fall into the weirdest of situations, not least of all where on one occasion we ended up stuck in an 10ft-by-10ft gazebo behind a stage at Slane Festival with Pearl Jam and another, yet to be identified, individual. Barry chatted away to Pearl Jam who he seemed to be getting on famously with, occasionally glancing at me as I tried to make small talk with the other random bloke, and not very successfully at that. He took great joy in later reminding me and never letting me forget that the other totally random bloke that he caught me uttering the immortal line of “what do you do yourself?” turned out to be Johnny Depp – he tortured me for years with that one. “Barry was a true journalist, someone who exuded confidence at the right time and never missed a good opportunity if it presented itself. On one occasion he was live on the radio with me doing a report from a phone box on Carnaby Street in London and as ever feeding in the 10 pence pieces and entertaining us royally. Whilst chatting live on-air, Barry looks out the phone box window and spots Depeche Mode walking down Carnaby Street; as quick as anything, Baz kicks the door of the phone box open and shouts: “Hey lads, come and talk to the good people of Northern Ireland on the radio!” – which unbelievably, they dutifully did. There then followed a Guinness Book of Records-style moment with three members of Depeche Mode and Barry stuffed into a phone box for what turned into a great moment of showbiz madness. Only Barry McIlheney would have the brass neck to carry off same. “Barry’s success particularly with Empire magazine also opened up a whole new world of content for the radio programme. We all knew that Barry had made it big when the word went round the office that Barry had actually flown to Los Angeles on a seat that reportedly had the capability of converting into a bed. No-one could believe it – Barry had turned left and not right when boarding a plane. “In truth, he always playfully said I owed him bigtime, as now he was phoning us weekly from huge events like the Oscars and the Cannes Film Festival. By this stage, as the boss of Empire, Barry was more of a guest of honour at these functions and should have been enjoying the event in all its glory, but instead he would dutifully come out of the event and entertain us all, again feeding the coins into the phone one more time for a live broadcast. We were so proud that one of our own from Belfast was mixing in these circles, and in truth Barry would say he couldn’t believe he was getting away with it either. “After several years our radio programme came to an end on BBC National Radio 5. Barry knew I was a bit down in the dumps about it finishing; he flew over to Belfast to take part in the final programme, and also to give me a bit of moral support, and to make sure we went out on a high. “I shouldn’t have doubted Barry’s ability to lift the mood for everyone; fast forward a couple of hours to our after-show party, I arrived at the hotel around the corner from the BBC to be greeted by a noisy wall of music and cheering. I opened the door to the function room to find Barry accompanied by Leo and Davy from the Saw Doctors standing on top of three pub tables singing ‘I Used To Love Her’ in front of a very large and a very happy bunch of programme makers, contributors and local bands. “There are so many positives about Baz to share. I always loved the fact that he enjoyed being part of the complete process of anything he did on the radio, even after a hard day of recording interviews at a festival he would still come back to my attic room to help edit the quarter inch tape and write appropriate links for the show. His early years as an enthusiastic hardworking music journalist had not worn off with success or promotion. “Barry always maintained a love for this place, he was passionate about Belfast, Northern Ireland, the entire island of Ireland, its music and its people. It was typically brilliant that until most recently, Barry and Davy McClarnon were still planning their next Shock Treatment gig in here in Belfast. His broadcasts and magazines not only entertained but inspired people to go into journalism and broadcasting, and indeed Barry was well known for offering a first step on the ladder to many people some of whom will be here today. Like his contemporaries David Hepworth, Mark Ellen or Nial Stokes, Barry might have worn a suit on occasion but no one could ever call him ‘a suit’. Barry was a leader, but he was also joyously rock ‘n’ roll and punk rock. “I will miss my chats with Barry about legendary gigs he had attended or performed in at the Pound, the Glenmachan Hotel, the Harp Bar, the Arcadia, the Ulster Hall or indeed ‘The Liggers Ball’ in Portrush – the music ran through him. “To conclude, some people can be gifted writers, some people can be gifted broadcasters, and some people can be born entertainers or performers. Most people would be happy to tick one of those but Barry McIlheney could tick all three, and for good measure throw in a positive energy, a smile and a presence that could fill any room. Shock Treatment front man, a Svengali-style leadership across Melody Maker, Smash Hits, Q and Empire and a much-loved voice on the radio, Barry could do it all. I am grateful like so many of us here today to have had a friendship with Barry. Lola to you, Frankie and Mary and of course Colin and the wider family thank you for sharing Barry with all of us – our lives have been deeply enriched by same. "We will all miss our friend. He was well-read, brave in his work, always curious, never boring, always kind and always impressive. Barry was larger than life, he always greeted us with a smile on his face, wearing his big coat with an upturned collar, a cheeky glint in his eye, a smart one-liner up his sleeve, and a well-earned loveable Belfast swagger.” Another of Barry’s friends as a young man, John McDowell, is now Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of All Ireland. Addressing his loved ones directly in a homily, the Most Revd McDowell said “the good that Barry did will not be interred with his bones, but will live on in your memories forever”. He continued: “I don’t intend to say much more about Barry although I met him first, through Colin, a very long time ago. A few years after that first meeting, I remember sleeping on his bedroom floor in Trinity Halls in Dublin after a crowd of us had been to watch an Ireland v. England international at Lansdowne Road. Barry was a very hospitable person. Another vivid memory I have is of being shanghaied into being a roadie for a gig that the North Belfast Boogie Band was playing in some kip in Newry, although my recollection of the quality of the music isn’t quite as exalted as other people’s. “However, sticking to my own area of competence, I do want to begin with some words of a theologian of the second century, Irenaeus, who said that “the glory of God is a human being fully alive”. With all the risks of a generalisation, I would say that Barry and his generation were people who were fully alive; alive to the worlds around them, alive to friendship and to achievement, alive to all the possibilities of that strange era into which we were born. “We were working class boys, a station in life which carried with it virtually no disadvantages. The system, particularly the educational system, worked for us, as did the much richer working class culture then compared to now. Mind you, other people have romanticised that sort of upbringing but Barry and others like him resisted that. The temptation was to exaggerate one way or another. Either the places where we grew up were so rough that the adults ate their young or, at the other extreme, the colourful intimacy of the Belfast slums was where no-one locked their doors at night and were incessantly running in and out of each other’s houses borrowing cups of sugar. “Barry never forgot where he came from, but he didn’t talk nonsense about it either. It wasn’t everything and it wasn’t nothing. Growing up in Belfast during the Troubles is another experience that has suffered a good deal from the ministrations of literary and journalistic attention. There were people and communities who were very tragically touched in those years, but it didn’t stop most of us getting to the disco in the Pig ‘n’ Chicken on a Saturday night and making our mark on the world. “It was out of this background Barry McIlheney moved fast and created things. He created things for the benefit of other people. Music and magazines for grown-ups. Music and magazines where you were free to choose. He was interested in people and respected them and used his great talents to inform people and to entertain people and bring people together. “However, there is no point in pretending that there is no unhappiness or trials in life, in Barry’s or in anybody else’s. We are made for greatness and Barry did great things. Yet there is in all of us an old wound and a frail seam, and sometimes we halt in our stride, and the high seems low and the brief candle is out; and what is man to be accounted of? Sometimes, the greatness of humankind is clearer in the greatness of our misery than in the triumph of our powers. But, blessed are the poor in spirit for they shall see God. There is a restless unhappiness at the core of life which seeks to content itself in forms of happiness which, great as they are, are not great enough for the gifted greatness of the human soul – yours, mine, Barry’s. “Barry McIlheney was made for God. I don’t know how often Barry or indeed any one of us has sought for God and it would be the height of impertinence of me to make any judgment about that. Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God. Now God has found Barry McIlheney, for the Jesus of Grace has his arms round about him, and peace is on his mind. “To Lola and Frankie and Mary and Colin, I say that blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.”