OerruRRv The 'Great' Gilhooly's wake Just some of those who gathered in l\¡lacau for the funeral (l-r) Walter Gerrard, Bob Gllhooly, John Lenaghan and Derek Currie
Dauid eilhooly
with
Ted Thomas arrd Derek Currie reminisce
Muhammad Ali and Smokin'Joe Frazier's signatures on it. "I'm the only person who's got that as Ali didn't like Frazier, and I had to coax Ali to put his name next to him," he would proudly say with a cheery grin. Fitting that he should leave that glove to Flora, his companion in life. One could tell countless other tales about David, the tennis ball in the pocket conversation with the
about one of the FCC's great
cltaracters who died suddenly on May 17 in Macau
From Ted Thomas hen his old chumJohn Lenaghan
late great Fred Perry or how he mesmerised Wimbledon tennis commentator John Barrett about where pirate treasure was buried, or even
dubbed Dave Gilhooly, "The
telling Rod Stewart to stick to singing after a soccer
Great Gilhooly" it was more than
match in Happy Valley.
flippant honorific. Great in physical stature he was not, standing not much more than fìve foot in his socks and never having weighed much more than the bantamweight upper limit (112 lbs) at which weight he'd fought with distinction as a boxer. But what was great about David Gilhooly was his heart, his spirit, his natural talent for sport and - and most of all his great sense of humour his great talent for making friends, and keeping them. FIe came within grave danger of forfeiting my own friendship many years ago when each of us, exasperated by the other's boasting about our prowess in various sports, ended up with a mutual challenge for a 10 length swimming race in the private swimming pool of John a
Lenaghan. Rather arrogantly and foolishly, I offered Dave a two-length start, and confidently placed a case of champagne as a bet on the event; loser to pay for it winner take all. \Mhereas I, disdainful and over-confrdent, resumed
my normal lifestyle, Dave set himself a punishing routine for the following few weeks. Rising every day at dawn, jogging to the swimming pool at HMS Tamar and assiduously churning out 10 lengths, hardening his body for the coming test, and steeling his determination. The result is now FCC legend. Streaking up the pool, by the time I'd completed six lengths I was well ahead. By the end of nine lengths I was knackered. If it had been a three-man race I'd have failed to place. Dave cruised home a clear winner, and generously shared the victor's champagne with me, Charlie Smith, Ross Way and all the other FCC stalwarts who had come along on that fateful Sunday morning to see me humiliated.
As a temporary coach for Ranger's football club, Dave survived the eccentricities of founder, owner and manager Ian Petrie, and enforced iron discipline over
Derek Currie and Walter Gerrard, 24
in those days
avid may have met many people, but he loved his pals around him more than anything else. Sadly some have passed away
From Derek Currre
It
å,,11i? ilìoPl
e was a Glasgow Celtic man training Hong Kong Rangers, that was our new soccer trainer who took over the physical aspect of the club Walter Gerrard and I were playing with, here in Hong Kong, in the late part of 1970.
,rucrlr s
nothing like the paragons of good behavior
Along with Jackie Trainer, we were the frrst three
professional players in Hong Kong, but it was not until the arrival of the 'wee man' did we have anything like professional training. David has been a friend to Walter and I for close to 30 years and at one stage all three of us stayed in the same apartment in Tin Hau Temple and
propriety (in and out of the FCC) that they are today. ave surprised me one day when he described
how he had extinguished a blazing stove fire in his kitchen the night before. After a particularly heavy night, on returning home he had started boiling fat in a deep fryer for his beloved chips Glaswegian sty'e, and fallen asleep while the chips were frying. All too soon the fat was in the fire so to speak, and Dave awoke with a start to find his kitchen in flames. Asked how he'd managed to extinguish the blaze he said, "simple, blanket the flames in soaking wet towels." Gobsmacked, I asked how he could have known exactly what to do in such an emergency. He answered laconically, "not too difficult when it happens nearly every Saturday night." I suspect that wherever Dave ends up, if good companionship, a zest for life, and a remarkable resilience for dealing with the vicissitudes of this funny Dave will not need the old life count for anything soaking towels to douse the flames. He shall be reclining on soft pink clouds, giant wings sprouting from his impressive shoulders and gratefully accepting the ministrations of his fellow angels. Of female gender of course. THE CORRESPONDENT JUNE-JULY 2000
Road, a bit like the odd couple with Dean Martin thrown in for good measure. The 'Great Gilhooly', as he was known among friends, gave all who knew him immeasurable amount of pleasure and there was never a dull moment when David was around. He started Music Maker magazine, interviewed the Carpenters, Bee Gees, TomJones, and had Eartha Kitt and Diana Ross sit on his lap during light-hearted moments. He also managed the first real disco in town, the Scene in the basement of the Peninsula Hotel, where the little fellow entertained rna:îy a famous face. I remember him telling me one night that Christopher Lee was sitting several feet away, 'What's he drinking?" I asked him. "Bloody Mary! " he answered with that infectious laugh of his. At a friend's barbecue in Manila which was attended by "Marvellous" Marvin Hagler, the former Middleweight Champion of the World, David was telling him within two minutes of meeting him how he should have boxed in his last fight against Sugar Ray Leonard, telling him his tactics were all wrong, and then getting into a debate that Rocky Marciano and Muhammad Ali had got into the ring together. Boxing was one of David's big loves in life and he also refereed some title fights in the region. But his pride and joy as far as souvenirs go, was an autographed glove THE CORRESPONDENT.JUNE-JULY 2000
recentl¡ but I know I speak for the
Lenaghans,
McDougalls, Cranbournes, Gerrards, Murrays and Thomases to name a few, thanks for the memory and for brightening up all our lives. To Bob and David, his two boys who came to the funeral in Macau from Finland and Scotland, your Dad was a one a one-off and your loss is shared by all who knew him. I
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