PHILLY
EVENTSIrish Guy Is Smiling
Magrogan talks about DeBella with reverence — “He’s a brother, friend, father, guru” — and DeBella seems both flattered and taken aback by those words. In fact, they’re so close that DeBella officiated at Magrogan’s wedding a few months ago to Shannon Grady, owner and operator of Go Athletics, a Bala Cynwyd-based health and fitness facility. (“She’s more of a rhino than I am,” Dave says). DeBella and Dave also recently spent a boozy getaway weekend together in Key West.
“It’s not often in your life, especially at 56, that you meet this person that you bond with,” says DeBella. “The older you get, the more skeptical you get with everyone. But all of a sudden it’s like ‘Oh my God, I’ve got a guy I can call if I’m in prison,’ and me for him.”
(In fact, during their weekend in Key West, Magrogan got swept up in a Spring Break paddy wagon by local police, who mistook him for a college kid. He spent a few hours in jail, but says it was more because he looks so young than because he was a sloppy, drunken mess.)
“Every once in a while, I’ll have some sort of down, gray moment, and if I do, I’ll call Dave,” DeBella says. “In a moment, I’ll get yelled at by a guy half my age. That’s the friendship we have. And if there’s anybody in this city I feel has my back, other than my own wife, it’s Dave Magrogan.”
ON MARCH 24TH, Kildare’s is about to open its sixth location, not far from Scranton’s Sno Mountain. The new staff has gone through a rigorous two-week training program in order to learn the “culture” of Kildare’s.
It’s a hectic opening, as usual, due largely to the fact that Magrogan insists on meeting his self-imposed deadlines — even if they are, on paper, impossible. About an hour before the soft opening to a select list of Scranton “VIPs,” there are still cans of paint lying around, and dust from some of the flooring that’s finally installed, along with the last shipment of kitsch. The liquor license was faxed over last night.
Just before 7 p.m., when the doors will open, Magrogan and his new Scranton general manager bring the staff in for a quick pep talk and a quiz about what they learned during training. Most of the staff of 75 are young — in their 20s — and decked out in black Kildare’s t-shirts that read “Who’s Your Paddy?”
“Who can tell me some of the core values?” Magrogan asks. Hands shoot up. Lots of them. “Enthusiasm!” one waiter shouts out. “Ideas!” yells another. Then they move on to the mission statement, which the new employees promptly recite, in eerie, church-like unison: “To consistently provide an authentic Irish experience to our guests, and to exceed their expectation for quality, service, and atmosphere.” There is applause. There is woo-hooing. There are screams. The doors are about to open. But before that, Magrogan shouts out one last thing: “Remember — you’re not robots. You’re what?”
“Rhinos!” the waitstaff shouts, completely devoid of irony.
Comments on this story? Please send them to us.
“It’s not often in your life, especially at 56, that you meet this person that you bond with,” says DeBella. “The older you get, the more skeptical you get with everyone. But all of a sudden it’s like ‘Oh my God, I’ve got a guy I can call if I’m in prison,’ and me for him.”
(In fact, during their weekend in Key West, Magrogan got swept up in a Spring Break paddy wagon by local police, who mistook him for a college kid. He spent a few hours in jail, but says it was more because he looks so young than because he was a sloppy, drunken mess.)
“Every once in a while, I’ll have some sort of down, gray moment, and if I do, I’ll call Dave,” DeBella says. “In a moment, I’ll get yelled at by a guy half my age. That’s the friendship we have. And if there’s anybody in this city I feel has my back, other than my own wife, it’s Dave Magrogan.”
ON MARCH 24TH, Kildare’s is about to open its sixth location, not far from Scranton’s Sno Mountain. The new staff has gone through a rigorous two-week training program in order to learn the “culture” of Kildare’s.
It’s a hectic opening, as usual, due largely to the fact that Magrogan insists on meeting his self-imposed deadlines — even if they are, on paper, impossible. About an hour before the soft opening to a select list of Scranton “VIPs,” there are still cans of paint lying around, and dust from some of the flooring that’s finally installed, along with the last shipment of kitsch. The liquor license was faxed over last night.
Just before 7 p.m., when the doors will open, Magrogan and his new Scranton general manager bring the staff in for a quick pep talk and a quiz about what they learned during training. Most of the staff of 75 are young — in their 20s — and decked out in black Kildare’s t-shirts that read “Who’s Your Paddy?”
“Who can tell me some of the core values?” Magrogan asks. Hands shoot up. Lots of them. “Enthusiasm!” one waiter shouts out. “Ideas!” yells another. Then they move on to the mission statement, which the new employees promptly recite, in eerie, church-like unison: “To consistently provide an authentic Irish experience to our guests, and to exceed their expectation for quality, service, and atmosphere.” There is applause. There is woo-hooing. There are screams. The doors are about to open. But before that, Magrogan shouts out one last thing: “Remember — you’re not robots. You’re what?”
“Rhinos!” the waitstaff shouts, completely devoid of irony.
Comments on this story? Please send them to us.
Originally published in Philadelphia magazine, May 2007
Posted by Jermaine | Oct. 12, 2007 at 1:10 PM