This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, Dec. 1, 2009 - A donnybrook, in case you didn't know, is basically a free-for-all fight.
It's also a town in Ireland. Martin Duggan's been there. It's a lot like Clayton, he says.
A lot of people are familiar with the term, but when the show first started, and even now, not everyone is.
"Some people at the station thought my name was Donny Brook," Duggan says. "One of the receptionists at the station didn't know whether to call me Mr. Donny or Mr. Brook."
They could have just called him boss.
Duggan, who worked at the Globe-Democrat for 45 years before retiring and starting the successful Channel 9 program "Donnybrook," set the tone, picked the cast and still chooses the topics. His hands are in everything to do with the talk show about local issues.
"Martin is the show," says Bill McClellan, a columnist at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and a member of the cast since the first show. "He's almost like an Old Testament figure, Moses, or even God. That's Martin. He runs the show, he is the final authority, and that's true both on the screen and off the screen. Martin makes all the decisions."
And now, after 23 years at the head of the table, Duggan's decided to leave.
No one on the cast is happy about it. But you can't really argue with God.
THE CIVIL WAR
Throughout Duggan's life, his personal philosophy developed, influenced by his family, his religion and years of working in the news business.
But Duggan, known as the show's conservative, hears the most complaints from people who consider themselves to be hard-core conservatives. "'You know, you don't have any true conservatives on your show,'" he says they tell him. "Well, I never intended that this show be a conservative/liberal divide. Never. I was surprised that, as it turned out, that was important to people."
When you're arguing local issues, like the widening of Olive Street, it's not about politics, he says.
"Most of the stuff we talk about, it's just preferences."
But all the cast members do have their preferences and their politics, for certain.
And when he's prodding fellow cast member and St. Louis Magazine owner Ray Hartmann, Duggan may seem a little gruff. But he's always a gentleman about it.
No one behaves in a truly nasty way on "Donnybrook."
"And I wouldn't tolerate that if we did," Duggan says. "I'd find a way of getting rid of somebody."
That attitude defines the entire show.
"It's a war over thought, and the nice thing about 'Donnybrook' is you can disagree and still like each other," McClellan says.
"Our agreements are genuine," Hartmann says. "But so is our friendship. It really is a family."
In fact, when Duggan talks about the cast, a fatherly pride seeps into his praise for them.
"These are all extremely talented people," he says. "And they are quick-witted, they don't need anybody to draw any pictures for them. They're refreshingly unpredictable."
Duggan believes so much in the cast and the show, that he's ready to walk away, or blast off, as he's taken to calling his retirement after his final show on Dec. 17.
But the cast is a little less sure.
"No one wants this but Martin, and we're trying to respect that decision, but it's tough," wrote cast member and broadcaster Wendy Wiese in an e-mail. "Martin is insisting that the show go on exactly as it always has, but the dynamics will be completely different."
Leaving a legacy
For a lot of people, Thursdays are about to change.
Duggan won't be on the phone with Hartmann, talking about local issues, he won't leave messages for the other cast members, or sit with them in the green room for their production meetings just before the shows.
What will he do?
"Mae says, 'Just tell them -- less.'"
That will take a while.
And his absence at the table won't be easy, cast members think.
"Martin is the glue that holds it together," Wiese writes. "He's the father figure when he needs to be, he's well-read on every possible subject and our institutional memory. Most of all, it's his uncanny ability to remember every position the rest of us have ever taken on an issue."
"He really sets a good example of how to conduct yourself," Hartmann says.
Duggan's a true gentleman, with a sharp mind, a fantastic memory and a great sense of loyalty, Hartmann says. "There is no question that he is one of a kind, so from our perspective it will not be exactly the same."
Taking over the head seat is cast member and KMOX's Charlie Brennan.
"I'm really not looking forward to replacing him because I know that he's going to be missed, and I'll be in his seat," Brennan says.
There's been some talk of replacing the set, but Brennan thinks enough changes are being made already. And he thinks Duggan's example is a good one to follow.
Introduce the panel, "and then try and get Ray to say something completely crazy and everyone will jump on him and I think that's what I've got to do," he says. "I want to keep the formula."
Time, and ratings, will prove or disprove if that theory works, but again, Duggan believes in the people around that table and the people who've been around that table, including Rich Koster and Nan Wyatt, who've both passed away.
"There are a lot of people who would love to be on our show," Duggan says. "And I don't mean any disrespect to any of them that they're not on, but I don't know of any four people I'd rather have than the four people I have now."
AND CUT
In the studio, Duggan presides as another episode of "Donnybrook" nears its end.
"I think the chickens crossed the road to get out of Clayton," he says.
Then, stage manager Stewart Wolfe holds up the final time card for the evening -- 1 minute.
Time's almost up.
"They might have," Hartmann says. "I don't know."
The subject of chickens in Kirkwood gets a few more comments.
Then, Wolfe raises his right hand in the air, spinning it like a tornado.
"Stewart's giving the sign, we're out of here," Duggan says.
Wolfe turns from the set and places the hand-written time cards on a table.
"I'm Martin Duggan," Duggan says. "Bill and Ray will be right back."
An announcement comes on as the cast continues the animated conversation from the show, laughing, talking over each other, their disagreements as evident as their affection.
"All right, we're clear. Good show everybody," Wolfe says, removing his headphones. "Great show."