Au Gres eatery serves up authentic Irish grub – and culture

Bridget Dunleavy is one restaurateur who doesn’t hold the Mayo.

Born 59 years ago in County Mayo on Ireland’s western coast, the owner of Dunleavy’s Eatery & Pub in Au Gres proudly and honestly wears the green.

“Cead Mile Failte” – 100,000 Welcomes – greets patrons on the front door of the building, which resembles a quaint cottage behind a trellis and verdant gardenscape.

The restaurant’s Gaelic decor, like Dunleavy’s brogue, is authentic and welcoming, but not overwhelming. Richly burnished woodwork blends with kelly green paint and plaid tablecloths, and a fireplace completes the feel of a homey lodge.

A sign on the wall counts the days until the only one that matters – March 17, St. Patrick’s Day.

“Our home in Ireland was open to everybody, and we wanted this to be someplace when you come in, you feel welcome,” says Dunleavy.

Emerald and diamond earrings gleam like the twinkle in her eye as she dismisses another Northern restaurateur – not Irish, and name withheld to protect the guilty – who slapped an Irish surname on his establishment.

“He even drove down to Clare to buy a bunch of Irish decorations,” she says, shaking her head.
Dunleavy’s the real deal. Born a Corcoran in Ireland, she met future husband Mike after his family – parents and eight children – moved from Michigan to Ireland in 1957.

“His dad wanted them to have a taste of the homeland,” Dunleavy says. “At the time, it was the largest family ever to emigrate from America to another country.”

The Corcorans and Dunleavys both farmed, and the families became friends. The Dunleavys came back to Michigan in 1962, settling near Brighton to run a meat-packing operation and party store.
In 1964, 17-year-old Bridget Corcoran came to Michigan to attend nursing school – and went to work for the Dunleavys.

“I fell in love with the boss,” she said of Mike, and they married in 1970. They had four children, sold the meat business in 1990 and decided to look for a restaurant somewhere “from the Zilwaukee Bridge to the Mackinac Bridge.”

They settled on a place in Hillman called the Floodwater Inn, and ran it for three years until they had to close for a road-widening project on M-32. They took a settlement from the state and began looking for another slice of Northern heaven, finding it in a rundown little roadhouse on US-23 in Au Gres during a March 1993 snowstorm.

“I thought, ‘This place has possibilities.’ I started decorating in my head,”
Dunleavy recalled. The couple’s vision took shape, one project at a time.

“Our goal was to really stand out from the rest,” Dunleavy says, and they accomplished it not just with decor and food that honored their heritage, but with service that reflected their personalities, as well.
“I like to sit with customers,” says Bridget, who can be seen at Dunleavy’s pretty much seven days a week. “I really enjoy what I do – it’s almost like entertaining.

“Mike – they called him ‘Big Mike’ – was full of love and laughter. The bar area reflects his personality. He had a new joke for everyone, every day.”

Mike Dunleavy died in 1996, and that was a turning point for Bridget and the restaurant that bears her name. Some of her family wanted her to sell and move back to Brighton.

Au Gres – where she “didn’t know a soul” in 1993 – wouldn’t let it happen. Residents and restaurant employees rallied to support Bridget Dunleavy and her children.

“The community was wonderful,” she said. “We had the wake at the funeral home next door, and the staff here were wonderful. It was very emotional.”

Big Mike lives on in a heartfelt wall of tribute in Dunleavy’s and in a memorial fund, now in its 10th year, that benefits youth sports programs in Au Gres.

And Bridget now unabashedly calls Au Gres her home. She is a community fixture, serving on the boards of several charities, golfing when she can and tending to her cottage on the Saginaw Bay.
Dunleavy doesn’t speculate on what comes next. After all, she points out, things haven’t always gone as planned.

“I came (to America) to go to school 41 years ago,” she said. “I’m still waiting to go to school.”

John Hiner is the metro editor of The Bay City Times.
Contact him at (989) 894-9632.