John O'Brien, playwright with sharp wit and keen conscience

JOHN O'BRIEN

Capital punishment does not lend itself to levity in the hands of most dramatists.

No ordinary playwright, John A. O'Brien had a love of wordplay that ranged from groaner puns to subtle wit, which he used to leaven the most somber social themes he addressed in more than 20 works for the stage.

"One of his plays that I worked on was called 'Due to Die at Dawn,' about a guy who was going to get executed in the morning," said Jason Taylor of Boston, who directed or acted in more than a dozen of Mr. O'Brien's plays. "I don't know how he did it, but he managed to put laughs into the play, and it's not a particularly humorous subject. When he gave me the script, I have to say I didn't know if it was going to work, but it did."

An English teacher at Malden High School for 35 years, Mr. O'Brien turned repeatedly to drama as a playwright and actor, sometimes delving into topics most would avoid, such as the death penalty, child abuse, or the false accusations that stem from recovered memories. After surviving for several years with a form of lymphoma, he died in his Mission Hill home on March 5 of pancreatic cancer.

He chronicled many of his 78 years in letters posted weekly to relatives and friends. Descriptions of his comings and goings might be accompanied by royalty statements for his plays, some of which were produced on three other continents. One was translated into Dutch.

"For me, he was just a fascinating juxtaposition," said his daughter, Ellen of Roslindale, who was a reporter for many years at the Globe.

"He was profoundly polite, he held doors and never interrupted, and I never remember hearing him curse except in dramatic situations. Everybody was shocked when he did 'Glengarry Glen Ross,' " she said of the David Mamet play known for its bursts of profanity. "At the same time, he was wearing political T-shirts protesting the war in Iraq, even when he was sick with pancreatic cancer."

Preferring public transportation, or better yet shoe leather, Mr. O'Brien did not own a car.

"He was the coolest guy in town," his daughter said. "I'd be walking down the street with him, and people would call out, 'Hey Mr. O'Brien, you want a ride?' And he loved to say, 'No thanks, I'm in a hurry.' "

While his plays explored hot-button topics at length, he also could be concise with political commentary, writing letters to the editor of newspapers that were models of brevity. Take his two-sentence letter published in the Globe on April 24, 2001, about the impending execution of Timothy McVeigh, who was convicted in the 1995 bombing in Oklahoma City that killed 168 people.

Mr. O'Brien wrote: "People who need to see a man murdered don't really need to see a man murdered. They need to see a psychiatrist."

"He tried to strategize," his daughter said of his letters to the editor. " 'Keep it short, keep it pithy,' he'd say to me."

Geographically, Mr. O'Brien's life was divided almost neatly in two, with the first half spent in Malden. He graduated from Malden High School and traveled west to graduate magna cum laude from Tufts University. Then he returned home and spent his high school teaching career at his alma mater.

After college, he married Elizabeth Prince, his junior prom date from high school. They lived in Malden and had five children before their marriage ended in divorce. A second marriage to Olive Silva also ended in divorce.

Thirty years ago, he married Gwen Moore, and they lived in Mission Hill, the other major point on his life's compass. Mr. O'Brien's letters, sent weekly to his children, grandchildren, and friends, were in part a way of knitting together the parts of his life, his daughter said.

As a playwright, Mr. O'Brien created works that included a one-act play that was awarded a $10,000 prize from the National Endowment for the Arts, his daughter said. And he juggled writing with volunteering, often visiting inmates at state prisons.

"I know him as one of the most dependable people, diligent, there for other's needs," said Jason Lydon, congregational director at Community Church of Boston. "I know him as a man who took on causes that other people wouldn't. He took time to advocate for people in prison. He was a very generous, loving man who truly knew where his principles were, where his morals were, and how to live them out."

The first of two gatherings in Mr. O'Brien's memory was held at the church on March 15, though in some ways, Mr. O'Brien attended his own farewell in November when more than 100 people from the theater community and other parts of his life gathered at the church for a reading of one of his plays.

At the reading, "He said, 'I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I could die today,' " his daughter said. "He had a sense of humor that had us all laughing, though the tears, right to the end."

In addition to his wife, daughter, and two former wives, Mr. O'Brien leaves two sons, Thomas of Oneonta, N.Y., and David of Amherst; three grandsons; and a granddaughter.

A gathering in his memory will be held at 2 p.m. Friday in the Malden Public Library.