Last Thursday, in a gathering under the trees in a corner of Eyre Square, Galway paused to remember one of its great visionaries. In the heart of the city, between the former Great Southern Hotel—where a young Ronnie O’Gorman first worked—and the Galway Advertiser building, hme of the newspaper he founded, President Michael D. Higgins unveiled a new stone bench in honour of the man who gave Galway its confidence, its voice, and much of its modern identity.
The ceremony, organised by Galway City Council, was attended by President Higgins, Mayor of Galway Cllr Mike Cubbard, members of the O’Gorman family, colleagues from the Advertiser, friends, councillors, and city officials. It was a joyful and poignant gathering: one that felt more like a reunion than a memorial, reflecting the warmth and generosity that characterised Ronnie O’Gorman’s life.
As the ribbon was cut, the words engraved on the bench—“A simply irrepressible man who came home to his Galway roots to make an unforgettable contribution”—seemed to capture perfectly the spirit of the occasion. President Higgins, himself a lifelong friend of the arts and of Mr O’Gorman, smiled as he unveiled the seat, surrounded by those who had shared in Ronnie’s decades-long mission to tell Galway’s story to itself and to the world.
For more than half a century, Ronnie O’Gorman was one of Galway’s defining figures—a journalist, publisher, and cultural catalyst who seemed to breathe energy into everything he touched. To walk the city’s streets with him was to see Galway through a lens of possibility. He noticed the details others missed: the curve of a shopfront, the sound of a busker tuning up, the way the morning light hit the roofs of Shop Street. He believed that every inch of his city contained a story, and he was determined that those stories would be told.
Born in 1945 in Salthill, Ronnie grew up surrounded by books and the smell of ink. His father owned a bookshop, and the family ran one of Galway’s most important print houses—so words and print were part of his DNA. After a short spell abroad, where he studied drama and taught, he returned to a Galway still finding its feet in the post-war years. It was a place of potential, but also one in need of confidence and vision. Ronnie supplied both.
In 1970, at just twenty-four, he launched The Galway Advertiser—one of Ireland’s first free newspapers. It was a bold idea at the time: a free publication, filled with advertisements but also rich with news, commentary, and culture, delivered directly to homes across the city. Many doubted it would last a year. Instead, it changed the landscape of Irish media and became an enduring institution.
A platform for a cultural revolution
The timing could not have been more fortuitous. The early 1970s saw the birth of what would later be called “Cultural Galway.” Druid Theatre was emerging, the Galway Arts Festival was taking shape, and a new generation of artists, musicians, and writers were reimagining what a small west-of-Ireland city could be. Ronnie’s paper became their platform.
He offered space to new voices, covered exhibitions and plays that might otherwise have gone unnoticed, and treated local creativity as something to be celebrated rather than sidelined. The Advertiser became a rallying point for a community of makers and dreamers—“oxygen to the creative Galway,” as I later described it.
Ronnie’s instinct was always inclusive. He believed in giving people a voice, whether they were local business owners, theatre directors, or volunteers running a new festival. The paper’s Thursday publication day became an event in itself—when the Advertiser hit the doorsteps, the weekend officially began.
The bench between two worlds
That is why the location of his memorial bench is so fitting. It sits quietly in Eyre Square, halfway between two key landmarks of his life: the old Great Southern Hotel, now The Hardiman, where he had his first job; and the Galway Advertiser offices, the beating heart of his professional life. The spot is both symbolic and personal—a crossroads between youthful ambition and lasting achievement.
At the unveiling, Mayor Mike Cubbard reflected on the symmetry of that placement. “It is fitting that we remember Ronnie in a place that is central and iconic to our city,” he said. “Throughout his life, he gave his energy and talents to Galway, shaping its modern identity and encouraging others to do the same.”
Mayor Cubbard’s words echoed what many in attendance already felt: that Ronnie O’Gorman was not just a chronicler of Galway life but one of its chief architects. His encouragement, his optimism, and his belief in the city’s potential helped create the atmosphere that would later make Galway a European Capital of Culture.
Family, friendship, and legacy
Speaking at the event, Ronnie’s son Ben O’Gorman captured the family’s emotions with quiet grace. “Dad loved Galway, and it’s clear Galway loved him back,” he said. Nearby, his sister Sadhbh and Ronnie’s niece Nadine joined in the ribbon-cutting alongside President Higgins—a moment that symbolised the deep interweaving of personal and civic pride.
After the ceremony, guests gathered in the Hardiman Hotel for speeches and refreshments. There was laughter as well as tears; stories flowed freely, as they always did in Ronnie’s company. Former Advertiser colleagues recalled his impish humour and unending curiosity. City officials remembered his patience, his diplomacy, and his ability to see compromise as a creative act. Artists and writers spoke of the chances he had given them early in their careers.
It was a celebration of a life lived in full colour—a man whose legacy continues not in stone alone, but in the pages of a newspaper that still lands in homes every Thursday morning, and in the thriving cultural ecosystem he helped to build.
The new bench, carved by Galway Salvage Gallery and installed by the city’s Recreation and Amenity team, now stands as a quiet invitation to reflection. Locals and visitors alike can sit there, perhaps with a copy of the Advertiser in hand, and watch the flow of city life that Ronnie so loved.
