St. John Walshe

In late 1993, a letter arrived that would quietly change everything. I’d just returned from a summer J1 in the U.S. and was preparing to graduate from Trinity College. Waiting for me at home was confirmation that I had received a Morrison Visa. I didn’t overthink it. My girlfriend, now my wife, and I scraped together what we had for one-way tickets and said, “Let’s see what happens.”

We landed in New York City in 1994. That was the start of it all.

At the time, Ireland was still reeling from a recession. Unemployment was high, career paths were limited, and for many of us, there wasn’t much on offer unless you had a family business or exceptional luck. But we didn’t see emigration as an escape. For our generation, it was an act of ambition, we were running toward something.

“New York was exhilarating and challenging in equal measure. We had little money and no real plan, but we believed it would work out.”

I spent the first two months couch-surfing in Queens, what was supposed to be a week-long stay with a friend. That same friend helped me prep for job interviews late into the night. It was a time of camaraderie, scrappiness, and shared optimism. There were about 20 or 30 of us Trinity grads all arriving in the city at once. We looked out for each other, sharing sofas, job leads, and even food.

The job hunt wasn’t easy. I was trying to get into advertising and couldn’t get interviews. Then I had an idea: CEOs work late. So I started calling agency heads after 6:30pm, pitching myself Irish accent and all. One evening, I got through to Mike Kix. “We’re not hiring,” he said. “But come in Monday anyway.” He hired me that day.

That job at Saatchi & Saatchi kickstarted a career that would span nearly three decades. After two years there, I moved to BBDO, where I stayed for 27 years, eventually becoming CEO of their network across 37 offices. I worked across Europe and the Americas. Those kinds of opportunities simply wouldn’t have been available to me had I stayed in Dublin, regardless of talent or drive.

But the transition to working life in America required more than just hustle. I had to unlearn some of my Irish modesty. In the U.S., if you don’t speak up for yourself, no one will. I had to learn how to be direct and, assertive, and to own my accomplishments. Especially when managing young American professionals, I discovered quickly that they expect clarity and leadership. That cultural shift changed me for the better.

“Despite all the professional milestones, what I’m most proud of is the life we built as a family. My wife and I raised our two children in Brooklyn, and now, full circle, they’re both studying at Trinity College.”

We always stayed close to our roots. I still shout at the TV when Leinster is playing.

The Morrison Visa was more than just paperwork, it was a symbol of a deep connection between Ireland and America. It was an extraordinary act of generosity that gave tens of thousands of us a shot at something bigger. It transformed lives, families, and futures.

Looking ahead, I’d love to see that bridge between our two countries revitalized, not out of necessity, but out of shared confidence and ambition. Imagine more Americans going to Ireland, and more Irish students coming here. That’s the kind of legacy worth building.