Twenty years ago I was having a quiet pint in Bowe's pub in Fleet Street when Noel Carroll dropped in with a press statement from Dublin Corporation relating to some controversy of the time. This was before the fax machine became a common piece of office furniture.
Noel didn't smoke or drink and was rarely seen in a pub, but he knew I would be in Bowe's for my 5.30 "tea break". I asked him if he would have an orange juice or a Coke, but he declined. He was rushing on to some meeting. He was always in a rush. "Where's your bag?" I asked. He always carried a battered yellow bag containing his sports gear. Noel and that bag were inseparable.
"Oh, I left it outside in the porch while I dropped in this statement to you," he explained.
"You what?" I said in disbelief. "You don't leave things lying around the street in this town. Bring it in or it will be stolen."
He rushed out to the door. He was gone what seemed a long time, maybe 10 minutes. I thought he must have met somebody or else headed off to his meeting. Still, the least he could have done was say goodbye.
Dublin delinquent
Suddenly, he appeared again at my side, out of breath, with a big grin on his face.
Apparently, when he got to the door of the pub he saw this little Dublin delinquent disappearing around the corner with the yellow bag under his oxter. Noel took off after him like a sheet of lightening. Now, just about everybody in Ireland knows that Noel Carroll was one of the greatest middle-distance runners this country has ever produced. Everybody, that is, expect the unfortunate little chap who had the misfortune to steal his bag. There was no contest. The thief was cornered before he got half-way up D'Olier Street.
"What did you do to him?" I asked.
"I grabbed my bag and gave him a lecture about his social responsibilities," said Noel, smiling. He didn't call a garda, or give him a dig, which many a guy would have done. He just had a friendly chat with the trembling kid about his role in society. Noel was always trying to make things better and in the first instance couldn't believe anyone would steal his bag from the porch. He expected everyone to be honest.
The culprit did learn one thing, though. He learned that the next time he was going to knock off somebody's property it wouldn't belong to a middleaged man who could run like an express train.
Noel is dead now. Many tributes have been paid to him and they were all deserved. He was an exceptionally good-natured man, lacking in guile, generous in spirit, who had incredible energy and enthusiasm for challenges. Nothing was ever too big to be tackled.
Honesty
Yet, there was a gentle boyishness about him. You could not help liking his honesty and frankness. He was a unique person who did trojan work for Dublin Corporation. Some people say he wouldn't allow any criticism of the Corpo. That was not true. He was quite prepared to accept criticism if it was fair and constructive, but if it wasn't up-front he was deeply hurt.
He gave so much to his work, to sporting organisations and to various charities. He was a wonderful family man. He loved young people and always tried to encourage them to keep fit and active. Every time he was leaving your company, he would wave and say: "Stay fit", or "Hang loose." But he didn't ram fitness propaganda down your throat. He did it as a suggestion with your own interests in mind. He once told John McEnroe, one of the greatest tennis players the world has known, that he should jog six miles before breakfast. It's funny, but that was just Noel.
He had a sharp news sense and liked his stories to have some humour. Two of the stories he tipped me off about still make me chuckle. He told me a horse had died in the back garden of a council house. There was no side-entrance to the house and the horse always entered through the front door and trotted through the kitchen to the garden. When the horse died the owners didn't know how they were going to get the animal out. It was a health hazard. Eventually, the Corpo decided the only way was to get the biggest crane possible and lift it from the garden over the chimney tops and on to the road.
I thought this was a marvellous opportunity to get one of our photographers a Picture Of The Year award for a shot of the horse coming over the rooftops of Dublin was certain to get an award. I asked Noel when the big move was going to happen?
"Oh, it happened yesterday," he said, "and they buried the horse in the city dump. I only heard about it myself a few minutes ago."
Still, it was quite a good story and we used it on the front page, without a picture.
On another occasion, he tipped me off about a big black bear. "You won't believe this," he said laughing, "but they found a dead bear in the Liffey this morning." It was true and to this day nobody knows how the animal got into the river at Islandbridge. It was discovered by a man out walking his dog. Inquiries by the Garda and the Corporation led nowhere.
Out to lunch
Back in the old days, business was always done over a long lunch. Executives didn't seem to be able to do a deal unless they were eating and drinking at the same time. That wasn't Noel's style. He told me: "People are always asking me out to lunch to discuss this or that. I tell them that if they want to talk to me at lunchtime they will have to run around the Trinity College track with me. Otherwise I'll be in my office afterwards and that is where business should be discussed."
I believe Noel should have been a journalist. He would have been a superb sports writer. He had an encyclopaedic knowledge of sport, not just athletics, but every sport. He was well read, had a nice writing style, was articulate and had strong opinions, which he loved to debate and defend. But it was not to be.
Farewell, Noel, we enjoyed your company.