Vivien Igoe, who lists Stephens' birth date definitively as
1845, reports that he "started work aged six, selling copies
of Saunder's Newsletter to support his widowed mother.
For 60 years he operated from the steps of the railway station
at Kingstown (now Dún Laoghaire)." This location allowed him
quite literally to corner a major news market: nearly everyone
who traveled between Dublin and London took the mailboats,
connecting by train at either end. Cyril Pearl quotes
Stephens' claim to have sold papers to "monarchs, princes,
potentates, viceroys, all grades of the aristocracy, Lord
Chancellors, Prime Ministers, Commanders-in-Chief, Cardinals,
Archbishops . . . artists, authors, jockeys, prizefighters,
aeronauts, tight and slack rope-walkers, and dancers . . . and
'long' and 'short drop' hangmen" (Dublin in Bloomtime, 49).
The Emperor of Brazil, he notes, offered him the position of
Court Jester.
The Amazonian poobah's offer suggests that Stephens'
energetic hobnobbing with the high and mighty involved more
than a little condescension on their part, but he met them
halfway, recouping whatever scraps of personal dignity they
surrendered. In the best Dublin tradition of flamboyant
self-promotion, Stephens cultivated an image of closeness to
power, styling himself the Prince of the News Vendors, or the
King of the Newsboys. Many people joined the game by
addressing him as Sir Davy. Joyce's phrase "a king's
courier" alludes to Stephens' amicable interactions with
King Edward VII when he
came to Ireland in 1903, reprising earlier conversations when
Albert Edward had visited as Prince of Wales. The
autobiography that he published in 1903 records that Queen
Victoria gave him a sovereign on one of her visits; he
"loyally" kept it "mounted in a gold clasp ready for
inspection" and pinned it to his coat "on special occasions."
Many socially prominent persons besides Their Majesties seem
to have embraced Davy Stephens. Pearl observes that Lord
Northcliffe, who came to Ireland for the Gordon-Bennett Cup,
"invited Davy to accompany him in his car, and when someone
occupied Davy's stand during one of his regular attendances at
the English Derby, Michael Davitt raised the matter in the
House of Commons" (49-50). A prominent Irish MP, in other
words, intervened in Parliament to protect Stephens' de facto
monopoly on news vending in Kingstown. Pearl adds that "Davy's
activities were reported regularly in the Irish Society
and Social Review. A paragraph in the issue of 31st
October 1903 reads: 'Davy had a great shake hands from Mr John
Morley the other day. Davy congratulated him on the life of Gladstone, and presented
him with a copy of his own life, just published. Mr Morley
said he would read it carefully, and perhaps he might see a
review of it in one of the greatest of London's dailies'"
(50).
This autobiography, The Life and Times of Davy Stephens:
The Renowned Kingstown Newsman, took comical
self-aggrandizement to an admirably high pitch: "His exterior
is peculiar but prepossessing. Standing a little below the
usual height for the proverbial Irishman [Joyce calls him "minute"],
this point is quickly lost sight of in a deep well of wit, not
yet completely sounded, beaming forth in his eyes. No one can
say whether it is in the merry glance of his eye or in the
quick repartee that issues from his lips, never for a moment
sealed, that Davy's fortune lies. The corners of his mouth are
turned up in a perpetual smile which his clean shaven chin
tends to emphasise."
In a characterization that Joyce may well have appreciated,
Stephens noted that "His hair hangs down over his shoulders in
long strings, reminding one of that of Ulysses when tossed by
the sea at the feet of the charming Nausicaa, and the fresh
breezes of the Channel have reduced his complexion to a
compromise between red and brown. In a black frieze overcoat and
a soft Trilby hat ["
a large capecoat, a small felt hat"]
he braves the cross-Channel gales in winter as readily as he
broils beneath the portico of the railway station when the
temperature is only 88 degrees in the shade. Atmospheric
variations seemingly exert no influence on the perfect
constitution of Davy. The scent of the briny and the glint of
the sunshine are alike to him. Add to these particulars a fine
rich brogue and the man is complete."
The Thom's records suggest that, near the end of his
long life, Stephens forsook the rigors of his outdoor post for
a more sedentary life. In 1911, when he would have been nearly
70 years old, he was living at 33 Upper George's Street in
Kingstown and running a stationery business.
