Frankie Byrne, who was born 100 years ago on December 27th, was an influential broadcaster in her role of what might well be Ireland’s first “agony aunt” and it has been said that a whole generation could hum the signature tune of her radio programme. At the time of her death, Gay Byrne said she was “a national institution who had been loved by everyone”.
However, behind the successful public persona lay a problematic personal life of some turmoil.
She was born in a nursing home on North Frederick Street, Dublin, the middle child (with two brothers and two sisters) of Michael Byrne, who was a journalist, and his wife Frances McDonald. The family lived off Appian Way, Ranelagh, before moving to the North Circular Road. She had an unconventional upbringing; her father was a racing correspondent with the Irish Press and a broadcaster who lived in rooms at the Gresham Hotel to be near to the Radio Éireann studios then in Henry Street. She was reared mainly by maids and spent 10 years as a boarder at Loreto Abbey, Rathfarnham.
It would seem that the unorthodox Byrne family life took its toll on the children. Frankie herself became addicted to nicotine and alcohol, two of her siblings died from complications caused by alcoholism and a third also had a drink problem.
Finishing school at 18, she did secretarial work for 12 years at the Brazilian consulate; she followed in the footsteps of her older sister Olive who had worked at the consulate until giving up the job on marrying. The position brought widespread social contacts which stood her in good stead when she moved on to work for the McConnell Advertising Agency. These were the early days of public relations in Ireland, at which she turned out to be highly adept, setting up her own firm, Frankie Byrne Ltd, in 1963.
Her company received a quick significant boost when it got the task of handling the publicity for John F Kennedy’s visit to Ireland that year. She proved herself a skilful businesswoman and ran the firm very successfully, together with her younger sister Esther, until retiring in 1990.
As a result of managing publicity for Jacobs biscuit company, from 1963 she hosted a daily lunchtime programme on Radio Éireann sponsored by Jacobs. It was called Woman’s Page and while its initial focus was mainly home management (not a topic she knew a lot about), through her influence it changed to featuring listeners’ personal relationships and other life problems.
She thus became one of the country’s earliest – if not the first – “agony aunts” as she read out and discussed letters addressed “Dear Frankie”. The programme attracted a broad listenership, its signature tune became widely popular, as did her comment that opened each programme: “The problems we’re discussing today may not be yours but they may be some day.”
Lawrence White, who wrote the entry on her in the Dictionary of Irish Biography, commented as follows on her presentation style: “Forthright in her judgements, she bluntly admonished the foolish or self-deluding . . . Her clipped decisive diction and distinctive voice – deep, dark and husky – reinforced her image as a trustworthy, knowing confidante, kindly if firm, worldly wise but unjaded, who brooked no nonsense but had one’s best interests at heart.”
Dear Frankie attracted up to 100 letters a week at its peak and ran for 22 years. In its early years, in such a socially conservative, church-controlled society, certain subjects such as domestic violence, sexual problems or child abuse weren’t aired but by the 1980s, adultery, extramarital sex, contraception and so on came to be discussed, a reflection of the changing mores and questioning of traditional attitudes.
She was also to the fore in initiating, promoting and organising the annual Jacobs Awards for broadcasting and wrote a weekly column for the Evening Press during the 1980s.
Behind the assured and highly competent public persona, Byrne led a troubled personal life which would probably have shocked her listening public had they known. She had a relationship for 30 years with the well-known journalist and broadcaster Frank Hall, who was a married man. They had a daughter in 1956, who was adopted.
Her private life took its toll on Byrne who became addicted to alcohol and Valium. As a stylish, attractive person, with a bubbly personality, she was very popular socially but Lawrence White says that in private she suffered strong self-doubt and feelings of inferiority.
She contacted Alzheimer’s disease in 1990 and died three years later.
She is buried in St Fintan’s cemetery, Sutton, Co Dublin.