I awoke one morning to find Cass on his laptop, his eyes welling with tears. After reading about my resignation, an Irish doctor named John Crown had realized that I was the daughter of a man he had once watched hold forth at Hartigan’s. In an essay in the Irish Independent, he wrote intimately of the sociology and poignancy of the pub scene: Dr. Jim Power was the intellectual alpha male of the Hartigan’s herd, a fearsomely formidable pub debater and commentator on the human condition, with a brilliant if acerbic turn of phrase, a man who saw off challenging younger bucks, leaving them
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