- Born
- Died
- Birth nameWilliam Joseph Patrick O'Brien
- Height5′ 11″ (1.80 m)
- Although he came to be called "Hollywood's Irishman in Residence"--and, along with good friends James Cagney, Allen Jenkins, Frank McHugh and a few others were called "The Irish Mafia"--and he often played Irish immigrants, Pat O'Brien was US-born and -bred. As a young boy the devoutly Roman Catholic O'Brien considered entering the seminary to study for the priesthood, but although he often played a Father, Monsignor or Bishop, he never actually followed through and entered the seminary. And although never a policeman, in movies he often wore the cop's badge and, although in real life he had no discernible Irish accent, he could pour on the "brogue" when the role called for it.
Pat O'Brien excelled in roles as beneficent men but could also give convincing performances as wise guys or con artists. He was a most popular film star during the 1930s and 1940s. Over almost five decades, he co-starred in nine films with Cagney, including his own screen swansong, Ragtime (1981).- IMDb Mini Biography By: Bill Takacs <kinephile@aol.com>
- SpouseEloise Taylor(January 23, 1931 - October 15, 1983) (his death, 4 children (3 of them adopted))
- Had been playing Walter Burns in "The Front Page" on Broadway before being tapped to appear in the 1931 film (The Front Page (1931)). The studio, confusing Burns with the other lead role, Hildy Johnson, offered O'Brien the latter role, assuming it was the one he had played onstage. He took the job, not informing them of their mistake.
- First met his lifelong friend Spencer Tracy when Tracy enrolled at Milwaukee's Marquette Academy in 1917.
- He and his wife had one biological child and three adopted children: Sean O'Brien, Terry O'Brien, Brigid O'Brien and Mavourneen O'Brien.
- Formed his own production company in 1944, which made only one film: Secret Command (1944).
- Met his wife Eloise while appearing at the Selwyn Theatre in Chicago in 1927.
- [on Knute Rockne] He was not only a great coach but also an extraordinary human being, and I felt privileged, humble, trying to convey the glory and the humanness that was "Rock". And there were frightening moments when I briefly felt as if I were Knute Rockne.
- [in 1982] I despise the Method, as do Helen Hayes, Laurence Olivier and as [John Barrymore] surely would have. I think the Method has ruined an awful lot of potentially fine actors. Look, the theatre is nothing but a mystique. It's nebulous. You get the part, you study your lines, you see what you can do with it and, finally, you evolve yourself into the part. But the Method--be a window, be a door . . . what's that got to do with anything?
- Womens pictures (so-called) are talky pictures. Their use of the cigarette and the telephone break the talk, talk, talk of soap-opera storytelling.
- I am not a loner, not a solitary. I liked people, crowds, activities, so I didn't stay in dark corners. I made friends
- John Ford, the old master, is the orderly type. Working for him is like being part of a ballet. He hardly ever moves the camera, but composes his shots like a master painter, a [van Rijn, Rembrandt] or [Edgar Degas]. The actor becomes part of the scene. Ford lets the action swirl past his lens. But the reality of his seamen, miners, dust-bowlers, horse soldiers or Wesrern heroes, when he is at his best, is a literature that the screen rarely gets. Working for him one feels a special pride. Lewis Milestone is a bouncing camera mover. For him the seeing eye is all. He stands the camera on its head, rolls it, rushes it, brings it in on the run. The actors are part of the scenery, and they must fight to survive, come alive while he catches them on the run. Neither men are static directors. They don't care for too much talk in their script, or stage business over meaningless chatter.
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