This was not the old Mehaul O’Leary, the jolly, the outgoing, the always-effervescent Irishman, hand extended to shake with each new grinning greeter.
Not even a trace of the friendliest pub owner in town who, last year, took the relatively short step from behind the bar into elective politics.
Exactly the opposite.
Quite without fanfare or any other accoutrements that traditionally accompany a politician returning from an unscheduled absence, a somber City Councilman Mehaul O’Leary was the next to last member out of the chute for last night’s meeting in Council Chambers.
No welcoming committee was in sight.
No hail fellow well met.
No joie de vivre.
Eyes cast downward, wordless and businesslike, a perhaps chastened Mr. O’Leary, adopting a no-nonsense stance, proceeded directly, without hesitation, to his desk on the dais.
He did not exchange words or glances or signals with anyone.
Thirty-six days after a one-punch fight with a customer at his Irish pub broke bones around his right eye, put him into the hospital for a week and sidelined him for more than a month, Mr. O’Leary returned to his old stand on the dais, except it was not the old Mr. O’Leary who occupied the chair.
Councilmen routinely mingle with the audience in the 5 or 10 minutes before each meeting, Mr. O’Leary among them. Not on this night.
Understandably chagrinned after a parade of events that included a colorful swap of spectacular charges and denials, it was the intention of Mr. O’Leary and Mayor Andy Weissman, who was running the meeting, to seamlessly segue into the agenda, without frills or attracting undesired attention.
Discreetly choosing a minimalist approach, the Mayor said, with admirable succinctness, in 11 snappy words:
“I would like to welcome back, and to recognize, Mr. O’Leary.”
Politely, the medium-sized crowd applauded.
In a scant 11 seconds, the public portion of Mr. O’Leary’s official return was completed.
