Letters to the Editor, By Jack O'Neil, Sewickley

Obituary: John J. O'Neil / Addictions counselor and PR man

Monday, January 31, 2005
By Steve Twedt, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

John J. "Jack" O'Neil, a retired addictions counselor and memorable Pittsburgh Post-Gazette letter writer, died of cancer Thursday at his Sewickley home. He was 78.

"He was often called an old curmudgeon, but he was lovable," said his wife, Theodora. "He was very real, and he made numerous friends because he was real."

Mr. O'Neil probably never seemed more real than on those mornings he read something in the newspaper that raised his ire.

"He would leap up from the table and go to the word processor," Theodora O'Neil said. "He could bat out something so fast, I couldn't believe it. The words just flowed from him, especially when he felt strongly about something,"

Often, his entertaining and insightful missives were in response to some other reader's published letter.

In November, for example, he challenged a Post-Gazette letter writer who had called Bob Dylan "the greatest songwriter in history." Mr. O'Neil's response: "Pardon me while I retch."

He further wondered if Post-Gazette editors "are on strike or on drugs" to allow such superlatives in the paper.

"Beethoven wrote his Fifth Symphony almost 200 years ago, and I'll bet that almost 90 percent of the civilized world recognize not only the first three notes of that classic, but every note that follows it. Two hundred years from now, no one will remember how to spell Dylan's name," Mr. O'Neil wrote.

In September 2003, he railed against another writer's objections to the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra's planned concert for Pope John Paul II. Mr. O'Neil said the writer, who accused the Catholic Church of discrimination against women and gay people, "presents such moronic vituperation and egregious insults I knew I could not reply in kind as I consider myself a member of the human race."

But he could also show his sense of humor. In 1998, responding to a Post-Gazette request for readers to share their turkey disasters, Mr. O'Neil retold the story of a neighborhood Thanksgiving that included a guest who demonstrated his expertise at mixing Manhattans.

"It was quite a sight to see these two young and innocent housewives, who had never had anything more than a Shirley Temple cocktail, sipping their Manhattan -- through a straw, no less," he wrote. The turkey and the two cooks all eventually ended up on the kitchen floor in a chorus of giggles.

But alcohol also played a serious and defining role in Mr. O'Neil's life, from his own problems with it until he stopped drinking in 1973, to his work as a public relations director and addictions counselor at the St. John's Hospital Alcohol and Drug Rehabilitation Center, North Side, in the early 1980s.

Mrs. O'Neil said her husband took great pride in his 30-plus years of sobriety and in helping others do the same.

After briefly working as a caseworker on drug and alcohol related cases for Children and Youth Services of Beaver County, Mr. O'Neil retired in 1991.

Before St. John's, Mr. O'Neil, a journalism graduate from Duquesne University, had worked in television and radio advertising, later becoming publications manager for Presbyterian University Hospital.

The Homewood native was a member of the U.S. Coast Guard and served as a radioman on the island of Palawan in the Philippines.

In addition to his wife, Mr. O'Neil is survived by children from his first marriage, Laurie Good of Livonia, Mich., Kevin James of Chicago, Sean Patrick of Columbus, Ohio, Mark Thomas of Mechanicsburg, Cumberland County, and Michael Charles, Patrick Brian and Daniel Xavier, all of Chicago.

Also surviving are stepchildren Susan Sebolt of Mt. Lebanon, Stephen Hanzel of Kennett Square, Chester County, and Kate Hanzel of Oakdale; a brother, William O'Neil of Greenfield; 13 grandchildren; one great-grandson; seven step grandchildren; and four step great-grandchildren.

Friends will be received from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p.m. today at Copeland's Funeral Home, 702 Beaver St., Sewickley. The funeral prayer will be at 9:30 a.m. tomorrow at the funeral home, followed at 10 by the Mass, to be celebrated at St. James Catholic Church, Sewickley. Burial will be in Sewickley Cemetery.

The family requests that memorial contributions be made to Forbes Hospice, 2139 Broadhead Road, Suite 2A Rear, Aliquippa 15001.

Sewickley Herald Obituary can be found here.

Dylan way overrated

November 26, 2004

As a writer most of my life, I love words as much as musicians love notes. But when you let readers (and I love them, too) throw words around like they were rewriting the Bible and the Gettysburg Address, I sometimes wonder if all the editors at 34 Blvd. of the Allies are on strike or on drugs.

Matt Oberleitner ("Only one Dylan," Feedback, Nov. 19), who claims to be a musician, elevates Bob Dylan to the musical acropolis of "the greatest songwriter in history" (pardon me while I retch). Doesn't he realize that the accolade consigns hacks such as Stephen Foster, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Rodgers and Hammerstein, Bach, Handel and Beethoven to the musical dustbin of history? (Give me a break, Matt!)

Then, adding insult to injury, Maestro Matt canonizes Dylan as "single-handedly the greatest musician to ever live" (pause for another trip to the bathroom).

Realizing, finally, that not everyone shares his enthusiasm for modern noise, he says, "I'll give you one thing, his songs are unrecognizable" (amen!).

Beethoven wrote his Fifth Symphony almost 200 years ago, and I'll bet that almost 90 percent of the civilized world recognize not only the first three notes of that classic, but every note that follows it. Two hundred years from now, no one will remember how to spell Dylan's name.

Dylan could spend the rest of his life writing his "great songs," and they wouldn't last as long as Hitler's Third Reich.

Jack O'Neil
Sewickley

PSO and Pope: When 2+2=5

Friday, September 12, 2003

After reading the garbage-laden letter from Grove City's Walter Carson about the PSO and the Pope (“PSO, say no to the Pope,” Feedback, Sept. 5), I pondered just what would constitute an appropriate reply. Carson presents such moronic vituperation and egregious insults I knew I could not reply in kind as I consider myself a member of the human race and a person fairly tolerant of other people's views.

My policy was sorely tested when I read this diatribe against the Holy Father, John Paul II, the Catholic Church and the church hierarchy. I had to stop and remember that I spent some time in the South Pacific in WWII to help insure that such lunatic ravings were assured publication in a free press.

How to reply to such outrage and provocation? Thank heaven I remembered my old philosophy professor, Father Schenning at Duquesne University back in the 1950s. He taught ethics, logic, theology, cosmology, etc. And he cautioned that we would someday run across the Carsons in this otherwise civilized world.

He said that we might meet a person who claimed that two plus two equals five, and that we could take him to court and bring evidence and witnesses including Albert Einstein, to prove that two plus two equals four. While the jury and the judge would agree with us unanimously, Carson would be out in the corridor after the verdict, screaming “Two plus two equals five!”

Father Schenning's advice: “When one argues with a fool, there are two fools arguing.”

I congratulate Grove City for tolerating such fools in their midst.

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

Alcohol's bondage

March 15, 2002

At last! The March 8 letter from Dr. Lawson Bernstein (“No Laughing Matter”) finally brings a serious note to the ongoing saga of Judge H. Patrick McFalls Jr. Dr. Bernstein realistically and credibly states that alcoholism is a disease (not a crime) and has symptoms, a treatment of choice and an outcome.

From 1980 through 1990, I was a counselor at St. John's Hospital's Alcohol and Drug Rehabilitation Center. In that time, I interacted with as many as 3,000 or more alcoholics and drug addicts. Without exception, they pretty much met the criteria for treatment and, when they followed instructions, lived happily ever after.

When I had to prepare an “after-care plan” prior to each patient's discharge, I looked around and discovered that, invariably, Alcoholics Anonymous and its companion, Narcotics Anonymous for the drug addicted, held out the only viable hope for continuing recovery. Yes, regrettably, we would have to recycle some of them from time to time. They usually complained that AA or NA “didn't work,” which is a bit like a diabetic complaining that he tried insulin but it “didn't work.” Our usual rejoinder was that “when everything else fails, follow instructions.”

As of this writing, I understand that Judge McFalls is now in treatment. If he follows instructions, I can almost assure him that he will eventually have the freedom of a happy life instead of the bondage of an alcoholic obsession.

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

The Senate turncoat

June 7, 2001

The three-ring circus masquerading as the U.S. Senate now has everything. It has Democratic snake charmers, it even has Republican contortionists and now it has a duly elected leopard that has changed its spots: James Jeffords.

I don't know how Vermont does things, but it would appear that Jeffords claimed to be a lifetime Republican when he ran for office, was probably endorsed by the Republican state committee and was elected by his Republican constituency to represent them in the Senate -- as a Republican.

When I was growing up, they taught me that people who did such underhanded skullduggery were called turncoats, liars, traitors, Benedict Arnolds or worse. Frankly, I think Jeffords deserves this year's Pearl Harbor Back-Stabbing Award for an Outstanding Performance in a Continuing Election Charade.

To my horror, in Jeffords' “explanation,” this miscreant used words such as “my own conscience and principles,” neither of which he appears to have in any abundance, not to mention honesty, integrity or self-respect.

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

Bush's social services proposal will be money well spent

Tuesday, February 13, 2001

I can still hear the cries of horror and anguish from the ACLUnatics who fear President Bush has violated the alleged “separation of church and state” invisible line with his proposal to give some funding to charitable organizations that are basically concerned with providing services to those who need it most (“Bush Backs Funds for Religion-Backed Social Services,” Jan. 26; “Civil Liberties Groups Quickly Raise Objections,” Jan. 30).

The real beauty of the proposal is that the money will not be squandered on allegedly “new” programs in the inner city or elsewhere in which the first order of business for the recipients would be to appoint their favorite demagogue as chief executive officer at a salary of $300,000 a year, who in turn will appoint his brother-in-law as deputy assistant CEO at a salary of $200,000 a year, then hire his wife as his “administrative assistant” for $85,000 a year, his son-in-law as office manager for $75,000 a year, etc., etc.

The Bush funding will go to currently operational and successful operations of proven benefit to the community, organizations primarily staffed with volunteers whose prime qualifications include an unselfish desire to help others without any thought of being paid or reimbursed for their time, talent and energy.

President Bush, the compassionate conservative, has tapped into his constituency with the first of many innovations that will bring back decency and honor to the White House.

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

Turkey Disasters Part II, or, Fowl Deeds and Misdemeanors

November 23, 1998

When my wife learned a neighborhood girlfriend didn't relish spending all day in a hot kitchen, they “pooled their resources” and invited the neighbors, too. The guest list grew to include several other couples and brothers-in-law who not only gathered around the TV to watch football, but they made sure they had a glass of Holiday Cheer in their hands.

One of them, considering himself an expert on mixed drinks, decided to supply the holiday guests with his own recipe for a Manhattan cocktail, including my wife and her girlfriend cooking the turkey. It was quite a sight to see these two young and innocent housewives, who had never had anything more than a Shirley Temple cocktail, sipping their Manhattan - through a straw, no less.

After the football fans became aware of a rising tide of giggles from the kitchen, they ignored it until there was a loud THUMP! heard, along with the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. Immediately, the THUMP! was followed by hysterical giggles and even more clatter.

Husbands and brothers rushed to the kitchen to see what was going on. There, on the kitchen floor, were our two cooks, sitting with the 32-pound stuffed turkey which had defied their best efforts to get it out of the roasting pan and onto the serving platter. They had all fallen to the floor, aided, to some extent, by the unwieldy turkey and the heretofore unknown substance called a Manhattan.

The resourceful menfolk, no strangers to mishaps due to demon rum, picked the ladies up, along with the turkey, and pitched in to clean up the floor, then carved the turkey and helped to get the rest of the meal on the table.

The next day, somebody asked my brother how his Thanksgiving dinner was. He said, “Fine, except the turkey was drunk.”

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

Called 'em as he saw 'em

July 27, 1998

Helen Weals' July 14 letter "St. Paul Is No Marriage Expert'' reminds me of my college days at Duquesne University many years ago.

A philosophy minor, I had to take a course called "The Nature of Marriage,'' which just happened to be taught by a Father Koren, a goateed member of the Holy Ghost Fathers and a renowned philosophy professor. Inevitably, someone in the class finally asked Fr. Koren the obvious question: How could a Catholic priest presume to know anything about marriage when he was by profession a celibate?

To which Fr. Koren stroked his goatee and said, in his thick Dutch accent, "I never laid an egg, but I know a bad one when I see it.''

Case closed.

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

Making headlines

February 28, 1998

An Olympic gold medal for headline of the year goes to your headline writer who created your Feb. 21 Saturday headline of Tara! Tara! Tara! to celebrate Tara Lipinski's triumph at the Olympics in Nagano.

I laughed, I cried, I marveled at the creativity behind your wordsmiths who seldom fail to give me a lot more than I pay for with my daily issue of the Post-Gazette. My only concern is for how many people alive today actually know that the code word for Japan's ``Day of Infamy'' when they attacked Pearl Harbor was ``Tora! Tora! Tora!''

JACK O'NEIL
Sewickley

Jack O’Neil Narrative

Note: The following is transcription of a conversation I had with my father, Jack O’Neil, on the back porch of his apartment in Sewickley, PA, on Tuesday Morning, August 10, 2004.

EARLY YEARS

I was born on December 26, 1926 above a tailor shop on the corner Idewild & Lang Avenues in the Homewood section of Pittsburgh, PA. My mother had gone to visit her friend Natalie Goldberg, who owned the shop with her husband Max, on Christmas Day to wish her a happy Hanukkah. My father said that I was “born in a cloud of steam and he has been in a fog ever since”. My full name is John Joseph Charles O’Neil. Everyone called me Jack except teachers and people I owed money to.

My father, Edward Joseph O’Neil, was educated through the third grade and was a machinist/ plumber/ all-around maintenance guy. My mother, Marcella Renagan O’Neil, was educated through the 8th grade and was employed as telephone operator on East Liberty Avenue before marriage.

As my father courted my mother, he and his friends would hang out and wait for all of the telephone operators to get off work. He’d do the “high pockets clog” while waiting.

When the flood hit Pittsburgh my father was working at Gimbel’s as a maintenance guy. They were evacuating and his boss told him to stay there and “take care of things”. We had to go to the police line at Grant Street and give a Red Cross worker a basket of food. They would row a boat to him and hoist it up. This went on for days. My father never got paid for staying. Gimbel’s said they wouldn’t pay him because the store was closed during the flood.

I went to Holy Rosary in Homewood all through elementary school. I attended Central Catholic for a while, then Westinghouse. It was a culture shock. It was a Protestant (i.e. public) school. We had to read the King James Version of the Bible every day. Lots of people think that Madalyn Murray O'Hair got the Bible of the schools. In fact, she got the Protestant Bible tossed out of the schools.

WAR

Later that year, in November 1944, I joined the Coast Guard.

I was a “hotel sailor” for 6 months in Atlantic City, learning radio, morse code, etc. I graduated as Radio Man, Third Class, Petty Officer. Went home for a couple days then shipped to San Francisco them they shipped me out on a troop transport on August 1, 1945 with several thousand U.S. Marines. We were headed for Pearl Harbor when Harry Truman—God bless Harry Truman—dropped the bomb. Then the second one. We went the Phillipines`and I stayed in Palawan on isolated duty for one and a half years. The original double duty. I came back a year & a half after the bomb. There was no fanfare.

I heard about the GI Bill, so I thought I’d go to college. I went to California State Teachers College in California, PA for one year then transferred to Duquesne, where I was finally able to get in. Lots of GIs dropped out after a while. I graduated in 1951 with a BA in Journalism.

FAMILY/ ALCOHOLISM

Two days before I was to graduate, I met the young lady who was to become my wife. Jeanne Marie Malloy. I gave her a ring for Christmas, that sent her mother into a state of hysterics, and we were married August 9, 1952.

When I married your mother, her mother was hysterical. I made an appointment to meet her mother. I said, “Mrs. Malloy, I love your daughter, and I’m going to marry her.” She screamed. She said her daughter couldn’t handle a budget. She told me that she did not approve. She was horrified at the ring I gave Jeanne—the evidence of the threat of marriage. She let it be known that I was not welcome as a son-in-law in her family.

One day Jeanne told me that her mother wanted to know about my “family background”. We used to have a joke—the guys—about a girl running “a D&B”—a Dunn & Bradstreet check on you. Homewood was not a good place. She was from Mount Washington.

All I could remember, aside from my mother being a saint, was that she would always hear from these missionaries. She would put a dime in an envelope and send it to the Columbian Fathers. We kept getting mail to her, even after she died. My sister, Ursula, wrote back saying that she had died, don’t send any more mail. Next week she got the newsletter. The priest wrote about the woman—my mother—who had sacrificed so much and was a good woman. Ursula gave the newsletter to me, I gave it to Jeanne, and she gave it to her mother. Her mother approved.

Laurie Jean was born nine months and 2 weeks after the wedding and not a minute too soon. Followed by 6 boys in the next 14 years: Kevin James, Sean Patrick, Mark Thomas, Michael Charles, Patrick Brian, and Daniel Xavier. I always say, “I had six boys and a sister for each one of them”.

Jeanne and I were divorced in 1980.

On December 26, 1936 I had my first drink of alcohol. My dad gave him me a glass of wine after midnight mass. My sobriety date is September 12, 1972. In 1974 or so I went to group therapy at St. Francis Hospital in Lawrenceville/ Garfield. It was a group of alcoholic family members gathered to learn about the disease concept of AA. There, I met my wife Theo. In November of 1980, in Winchester, Virginia, Theo and I got a blood test, marriage license, and got married.

We were married in the Holy Roman Catholic Church on November 11, 1983, Armistace Day, or the day that the English and the Irish called a truce. There were no children born of this marriage. But we have lived happily ever after, to coin a phrase. She even dragged me kicking and screaming back to the Church. First the Episcopal, then the Catholic.

My Home Group is the Bright Eyes, Friday, 7AM at the Christy House in Sewickley. It is a discussion meeting. They read from the 24 hour a day group and it starts out the topic.  I also go to a Monday and a Wednesday meeting at the Christy House.

WORK

I had a career as a radio & television writer/ producer. I also worked in advertising, public relations, and was a freelance consultant to the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh starting in 1969.I did mail pieces, newspaper ads, direct mail. The Bishop’s Annual Appeal.

When I was dating Jeanne, I was a college graduate, and I was a stock boy at the A&P for $45 per week. That horrified her mother.

I quit my job at the A&P to take an opportunity in television. Wilken’s Jewelry had a couple TV shows Abby Neal (country music) and amateur TV show. I made only $42 a week.

WDTV Channel 3 was the only TV station in the city, so she thought it was a limited opportunity.

Then I worked at Smith Taylor & Jenkins, the ad firm for Iron City Beer. I had to do lot of research. I wrote beer commercials and drank beer.

In my job with Presbyterian Hospital, I had to produce a quarterly monograph—Grand Rounds—where I would write about a particular subject. I did one on pain management. I received the Hospital Association of Pennsylvania and Award for Meritorious Achievement in Hospital publications.

In 1980 I heard about a job opening at St. John’s Hospital Alcohol & Drug Rehabilitation. I was hired as Public Relations Director. Media, television, radio.

Shortly after getting there, a labor dispute erupted. A portion of the staff struck, asking for union recognition. I was considered management as a department head. He began counseling in the detox and rehab units. I began to give motivational speaking. To this day, I get people come up to me about all this. Fortunately, the men shake my hand, and the girls kiss me.

I didn’t keep them sober. AA did.

After St. John’s was a case worker for Beaver County Children & Youth Services on alcohol & drug-related cases. Then I retired.

I was a Lector, Eucharistic Minister, Bible Study. I sound like a religious fanatic, but I’m not.