Looking down on the great and good of the Dublin media who gathered for his funeral last week, Paul Tanney would undoubtedly have had a wry remark ready to puncture the glowing tributes being paid to this kind, caring, brilliant and funny man.
Paul’s razor-sharp wit was a recurring theme for those sharing precious memories from the altar of St John the Baptist Church, Blackrock.
Miriam O’Callaghan, whose Prime Time programmes the Belfast man steered for many years, said he made them laugh all the time – even at the least likely of times, or the least appropriate times and places.
She spoke for many in confessing: “They were always very funny but I have to be honest, I wasn’t as intelligent as Paul, so sometimes he’d tell these jokes and they flew over my head – I couldn’t understand because he was too clever. And about half an hour later the penny dropped and I’d go ‘That’s what he was talking about!’.
“So when I was wondering what to say today, I just kept thinking what a remarkable person he was, how he was truly, incredibly special.
“How he was always very much his own person; how you always felt better after spending time in his company; and how his searing emotional intelligence would always know if there was something up with you, and he’d look in your eyes and he’d say ‘Are you ok, are you doing ok?’. He was so incredibly kind and caring.”
Beautiful words. We love this - no one deserves a 🌈 more than the wonderful, funny, beautiful, brilliant journalist, kind Paul ❤️⭐️codladh sámh Paul https://t.co/IKy3qAhr57
— Miriam O'Callaghan (@MiriamOCal) February 2, 2024
Paul, who died aged 50 on January 27 after a long battle with leukaemia, worked on RTÉ radio as editor of Morning Ireland, on the Six One and Nine O’Clock television news, and latterly as deputy editor of Prime Time.
His respectful and collaborative management style was likely a product of a happy childhood growing up in the Stranmillis area of south Belfast.
Paul was a proud former pupil of St Bride’s PS and Methodist College, and school ties from both were brought to the altar at funeral Mass.
A lifelong love of walking was also nurtured on the banks of the Lagan and shared with long-time friend Dale Connolly, who told how Paul would always arrive for hikes fully prepared with map and compass, gaiters and Gore-tex, leaving him to simply supply the coffee.
“He was a fierce protector, a steadfast companion through thick and thin. His loyalty, a testament to the strength of his character, was etched deep within his soul,” he said.
“He was as caring as he was cautious, as compassionate as he was careful, and he was as kind as he was complex.”
Paul studied at Trinity College Dublin and completed a post-graduate diploma in journalism at the University of Ulster in Belfast, where he dazzled with his dancing wit and made friends for life, including this writer.
He began his career at The Irish Times, working in the Dublin and Belfast offices, further widening his circle of admirers.
And it was in Dublin that he met Jessica and they married and were blessed with two beautiful children, Sadhbh and Daniel, now cruelly robbed of a devoted dad.
His funeral heard how he loved being a father and husband and was constantly talking and thinking about his family, especially during his illness – they were simply the centre of his universe.
He moved into broadcasting with a production role at Newstalk radio before joining the newsroom at RTÉ.
This week we said goodbye to Paul Tanney. We shared an office. For almost 20 years he was the steady voice in my ear on Morning Ireland & Prime Time. A rock of sense, integrity & fairness. Bright as a button with razor sharp wit. The best of us. RIP Paul pic.twitter.com/QHOc6UIIue
— Fran McNulty (@franmcnulty) February 2, 2024
Former Prime Time presenter David McCullagh shared an office for several years and fondly recalled his appalling puns and unique sense of style – “Paul elevated office casual to an art form” – including the time he was caught on screen during an election programme and enjoyed 15 minutes of Twitter fame as ‘pink shirt guy’.
Behind the cameras, however, he took his work incredibly seriously and always took pains to get details right, ever conscious that he was serving the public.
Drawing on a vast bank of knowledge, he would feed presenters with the killer question for squirming politicians, in the same way that he could always seem to conjure up the killer line with friends.
“No matter how dire the situation, he would always find some reason to raise a laugh about it,” David said. “People sometimes suggested that black humour was a northern thing, and there might have been something in that, but I think it was just the way Paul was wired. Humour was his way of dealing with whatever work, whatever life threw at him.”
Miriam said he was a brilliant boss and journalist, and news of his death saw colleagues at RTÉ openly weep at the “cruelty to snatch away such a magnificent guy in the prime of his life, with so much to give, taken from everyone but especially from his beautiful and beloved family”.
She finished with a simple but moving tribute from the Prime Time team read out on air at the conclusion of a programme last week.
It said: “Paul was a rock of common sense and editorial integrity. He worked tirelessly to make the sure the journalism we bring you is of the highest standard.
“But beyond that he was brilliantly funny and kind and clever, a proud Belfast man with a sharp wit.
“We mourn him as a great colleague and as a wonderful friend.”
Paul Tanney is survived and dearly missed by his wife Jessica, children Sadhbh and Daniel, parents Enda and Brian, brother David, sister Claire. extended family and friends.