In one of the most bizarre chapters of 1960s showmanship, an Irish labourer named Mick Meaney voluntarily buried himself alive for 61 days in a desperate attempt to break a world record and escape poverty.
The Great Burial Stunt
On February 21, 1968, the streets of Kilburn, the heart of London's Irish community, lined with supporters and television crews as a specially-modified coffin was paraded like a celebrity. The foam-lined coffin measured just 6ft 3in by 2ft 6in and was equipped with an air pipe and food chute for what would become an extraordinary test of human endurance.
Meaney, penniless but determined, had vowed to become the greatest 'burial artist' on the planet by staying entombed underground longer than anyone else. After the public spectacle, the coffin was lowered into a builder's yard where soil sealed him inside, beginning his quest to survive 61 days beneath the surface and seize the unofficial world record.
Life Underground
Meaney's underground home was surprisingly sophisticated for its time. A tiny trapdoor beneath served as a toilet, while a telephone line kept him in touch with the outside world. His daily routine involved exercise, reading and communicating from his cramped tomb.
"I had a great night's sleep last night," Meaney told a television anchor on just his second day underground, displaying remarkable composure. The telephone line became a source of revenue too - punters at the Admiral Nelson pub were charged for every call, even when celebrities like boxer Henry Cooper called for a chat.
The Man Behind the Spectacle
Meaney's extraordinary attempt was masterminded by Michael 'Butty' Sugrue, a circus man turned London Irish showman. The partnership began with a public 'wake' at the Admiral Nelson pub where Meaney was sealed in the coffin before transportation to his burial site.
Originally dreaming of boxing stardom, Meaney had turned to tunnelling work in London after an injury ended his sporting ambitions. His daughter Mary Meaney remembers him as "another Irishman, they are now called the forgotten Irish, they were over there working with a pick and shovel and sending the money back to their families. Times were poor back then."
The Bitter Aftermath
After 61 days, on April 22, the coffin was exhumed to cheers from the crowd. Meaney emerged wearing sunglasses, his beard thick but his confidence intact. "I'd like to go for a hundred days more," he declared. "I'm delighted to be the champion of the world."
Yet the riches he had hoped for never materialised. It was later claimed that Sugrue pocketed the profits, and promised sponsorships - including a potential deal with Gillette - evaporated completely. Meaney returned home to Ireland with nothing to show for his global fame.
"In all walks of life there are people who just use you like a vampire," Mary says. "He came back without as much as the price of a bottle of milk in his pocket."
Adding to the injustice, his feat was never officially recorded. A rival, Tim Hayes, contested his claim, and later that year a former nun named Emma Smith managed 101 days buried at Skegness fairground - stealing the headlines Meaney believed were rightfully his.
Meaney eventually settled into council work in Cork before his death in 2003, his extraordinary chapter largely forgotten until the new documentary Beo Faoin bhFód (Buried Alive), airing on November 26 on TG4, brought his story back to light.
"He could live an ordinary life, working class, ordinary, but he craved this extraordinary life," Mary reflects. "Breaking the world record made him feel, 'I'm somebody'."
