U2: Larry Mullen Jr., the Brendan Byrne Arena, Woodstock Film Festival, Bearsville Theater and Me

How the U2 song "Bad" changed my life and how a chance meeting in Woodstock, NY, reaffirmed a lifetime's worth of deep, very deep self-reflection.

Me, barely keeping it together, during a selfie with U2 drummer Larry Mullen Jr. at the Woodstock Film Festival. Selfie by yours truly.

Being Irish-American has not always been a source of pride for me.

For reasons I won’t go into here (except for those blasted ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ buttons and bloated, embarrassing revelry on St. Patrick’s Day), being Irish-American for me, for many years, was a source of shame. A defeated people. A displaced people who typically put the partying before, well, everything of consequence, and so much more in the negative column.

That all changed for me on April 14, 1985, at the Brendan Byrne Arena in New Jersey’s Meadowlands Sports Complex. A good friend handed me a ticket to a band I knew little about—U2, from Ireland. What I did know was that just about everyone at Clarkstown South High School was going to see this band.

That concert. Those songs. Those musicians. That band. My life was changed forever. If you’d ever like to chat with me about U2, block out an entire day, and after the first 3-4 hours of talking, I’ll get to the music.

For THE first time in my life, at age 16, I was proud of being Irish and Irish-American. It took me 16 years to have pride in who I was, to recognize the value of my identity, my sense of self-worth, all of which would later play into having the courage to walk into a job interview and explain that without me on your team, you’re going to fail, fail, fail. I’m the guy for the job. End of story.

39 years later, I’m still not sure what happened that night. What I do know is that it happened while U2 played their song, “Bad.” Most are familiar with “Sunday, Bloody Sunday,” “Pride (In the Name of Love),’ “New Years Day,” most of the songs off “The Joshua Tree” album and “Mysterious Ways.” My compliments to Rolling Stone magazine for placing “Bad” at number five of U2’s 50 greatest songs.

I would have named it number one because my life changed when I heard it that night at the Brendan Byrne.

U2 that night in 1985 told me that I was a rock star, just like them. We were all Irish. And from our perch in East Rutherford, NJ, the Irish—them, me, all of us—we were taking over the world. Lead singer Bono opened the car door and told me to jump in.

“There’s no time to explain,” I imagine him saying. “There’s no time to waste. It’s happening now. We need you.”

Yeah, “The Joshua Tree” tour in 1987 at that very same venue was awesome, as were many U2 shows in the years that followed. But that night in 1985 was a game-changer that had nothing to do with the music, and everything to do with all I had in common with U2, and the power of embracing who I was as an Irish-American, and all the power that comes with that. I think about that night in East Rutherford every freaking morning of my life.

That night also played a very big role in my chosen career path as a journalist. To quote “The Paper,” my favorite newspaper movie—“A clipboard and a confident wave will get you into any building in the world.” Thank you, U2, for the confidence part of that equation.

So all of this brings me to this past Friday night, during the Woodstock Film Festival in New York’s beautiful Hudson Valley, outside the Bearsville Theater. U2 drummer Larry Mullen Jr. made a surprise appearance at the screening of a documentary about dyslexia, “Left Behind.” Larry worked on the music and is a producer of the film and he spoke during the post-screening discussion.

After things wrapped up, he walked out of the theater—alone. I just happened to be leaving too and I gave him plenty of space out of respect. Then it was just me and him in a dark parking lot, heading to our cars.

I had a choice to make—and I made it.

I called out, “Larry.” He turned around. With an outstretched hand I presented him with my book, Levon Helm—Rock, Roll and Ramble, about another famous drummer, Woodstock’s very own Levon Helm. Larry’s face lit up. I told Larry about traveling the country with Levon and recording our conversations for the book.

I also told him about my Irish ancestors, from Cork City,  County Leitrim and County Mayo. I got another wide smile. Inside the book was an inscription with one line written in the Irish language, which will remain in confidence between us two.

I wrapped up our very cordial chat by telling Larry that, “I am a Meadowlands guy.” I told him I hoped that this would not be our last meeting and said goodbye. It was a great fucking few minutes. He was so nice, so interested in Levon, so interested in what I had to say. There we were, two guys whose road leads back to Ireland.

Thanks Larry Mullen Jr. Thanks Woodstock. Thanks Bearsville Theater and thanks Bearsville Center and the Woodstock Film Festival. Once again, U2 gave me a night that is changing my life forever.

As my mother, Dorothy Ann McCarthy Barry, often said about the Barry and McCarthy families—her parents had four children, my aunts and uncle, in Cork, then brought them over on the boat to America, and had her in Washington Heights—“Who’s better than us?”

P.s. I have no photos of the many famous people I have been blessed to meet and interview across nearly 30 years. But on Friday night, I just couldn’t resist. My eternal gratitude to the nicest guy in the world. You should look him up. He plays in an Irish band. They’re from Dublin City, Ireland.

Long May We Run.