Denis ‘Denny’ Galvin was one of those people. For decades in Stradbally, a little hamlet on the Dingle Peninsula, Denny sat on his bench, hail, wind, rain or shine, watching the world go by.
Known far beyond the village as ‘the man on the bench’, locals will tell you he was there forever, or at least as close to forever as anyone could remember.
Visitors might not have known his name at first, but they knew the bench, and they knew the figure on it. The familiar face and the sense that if Denny was there, then all was right with the world.
“Oh, he was a human landmark,” one neighbour said, “he’s been there for 40 years, sitting on that bench.”
There was great fondness for the local legend as he was laid to rest on Saturday following Requiem Mass at St Mary’s Church, Castlegregory. Denny died peacefully at home and is survived by his sisters, Mary, Bobby & Rose, brothers-in-law, nieces, nephews and friends.
Locals recalled him as a man of little fuss or drama, but he saw generations grow up, watched the road expand and change, and often greeted strangers as easily as neighbours. Even those who never spoke to him felt they knew him.
One local said: “I think it’s amazing, even if people never met him, they felt like they knew him.
He had a deep bond with animals and the land, and some stories of the long-haired, long-bearded man began somewhere out in the fields.
“He was out one day with the cows,” a neighbour said in a story passed down through the years, “and the next thing he could hear him calling for his ‘not-so-helpful’ dog Sally. ‘Sally come around, come around,’ he’d shout.”
The call would rise across the countryside, and those around knew Denny was out with the cattle, usually followed by his mocking menace: “Sally, come round, if I miss Wonderly Wagon I’ll redden your h*le!!”
These stories were “pure Denny”, locals laughed while sitting around with drinks in hand.
He was quietly looked after by family and neighbours making sure he had his tea and a sandwich every day, got brought to the shops, to the doctors and out for drives.
Inside his home, however, was something that surprised many: what one friend jokingly referred to as a “shrine.”
The walls held photographs taken with Denny over the years, locals, tourists, families, strangers, all wanting proof that they had met “the man on the bench”.
And it wasn’t just locals who sought him out. Denny became, improbably and organically, a tourist attraction.
One former bar worker remembers a day that still makes her smile. “I worked in Tomásín’s bar for years, and Denny famously sat across the road, day-in, day-out.
She recalled: “One year about 15 or 20 tourists from India came in and each ordered a pint of Guinness. They asked to take the glasses outside but assured they’d bring them back, they said they were going out to take a picture with Denny!”
“They talked about a huge photograph of Denny in Dublin Airport which made him a must-see icon on their Kerry road-trip.”
Long before he became a global photo opportunity, Denny was also known for being ahead of his time locally.
He famously had the first car in the village, a VW Beetle, a huge hit with friends and women alike. The stories of it are still told with disbelief.
“How they fit seven or 10 people home from a dance in Tralee, Annascaul or Dingle in that small car I’ll never know,” one school-friend laughed.
Now, the bench remains, but the man is gone, and the village of Stradbally feels the difference.
Seán Lynch, one of Denny’s childhood friends who later became his funeral director simply put it: “I didn’t pay him back for the petrol all those years ago, but I took him on his final journey today.”