About the podcast

In the years before the civil rights riots of 1967, countless political leaders lived within a few blocks of each other. Whether an elected official, a local organizer, a political operative, a bar keeper, a religious leader, or just kids growing up in the Irish community, they were a part of a critical moment in time for the Irish in America and in the development of the NJ Democratic Party establishment. 

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My name is Stacy McCormack and I created Politics, Pubs, Parades, + the Parish to capture the stories of my family, friends, enemies, colleagues, and acquaintances in the most Irish way possible - outrageous stories. I am the daughter of Margo McCormack, the granddaughter of William (Bill) and Catherine McCormack, the niece of George, Timmy, Maureen, and Joe McCormack who all grew up in the Vailsburg section of Newark. They inspired this podcast and here is our story. 

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Politics, Pubs, Parades, + the Parish seeks to capture this history A group of Irishmen makes a pub; a group stories makes up history.  
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My uncle George died when I was about fifteen years old. I barely knew him, but I grew up hearing the war stories from St Patrick's Day parades, antics in the bars he owned, political campaigns he ran, raffles he organized, and of the friends he kept and the ones he didn’t. I was just a kid then, and it would be years before I realized I had lost a giant. I still see his name mentioned in NJ political write ups and it makes me wonder how he could have left such a long-lasting legacy. My only real memory was of him holding court at the dining room table at my aunt Maureen’s house, making everyone laugh. For hours.

 

A little over ten years ago, I lost my uncle Timmy who had become the patriarch of the family after my uncle George died. He held us together during difficult times, he stepped in when I needed him, and he was my office buddy when he was a judge and I was working my first job at the Essex County Prosecutor’s Office Homicide Unit (where I needed a lot of support!). Losing him was crushing.

 

Almost one year later, I lost my aunt Minnie. Her real name was Maureen. I couldn’t say that when I was a baby, so it was easier to just change it to Minnie. I never looked back, neither did she. You may not have known her, but she knew you. She knew your parents, their parents, and their parent’s parents… and all your family secrets. Her job was not political. She worked at the Essex County Courthouse, where she white knuckle sped out of the parking lot at 5:00, not 5:01. My aunt Minnie may not have been a politician, but she was a staple at every political or Irish event. Nothing like a good Irish wake to really dish the dirt! She was our family historian, and yours too. She knew more about our lives than we did. She never let the truth get in the way of a good story. And she was funny. Really, really, funny. 

 

Exactly one week later I buried a close cousin. That made three in a year. We lost almost everyone at that point. So, after so much loss and not much laughing, I spent a lot of time thinking about how to capture some good old stories about my family and their friends. The stories that resurface only after someone is gone. There were a lot of them, they involved lots of bars, Shillelaghs, St. Patrick’s Days, and local politics.

 

So, I embraced the old family tradition of not knowing what I’m doing and went face first into this project by calling people I didn’t know and asking if they’d come on my podcast.

 

It worked.

 

And that is how Politics, Pubs, Parades, + the Parish got started.

 

So, here you have it. A curated group of people who agreed to confide in me at Montclair State University School of Communications to tell me their fondest memories, wildest tales - the very best of their Irishness.

 

These are, more than likely, embellished stories that may or may not be completely true but are told in the Irish tradition of being “true enough” to make you laugh; we could all use a good laugh.