Music
Remembering Luke On the 30th Anniversary of Luke Kelly’s death, Fellow Dubliner Jim McCann reveals a side of the late, great singer that not many people knew. On the evening of January 30th 1984, I was performing as part of a week-long engagement at Clontarf Castle, Dublin. In a hospital not far away, Luke Kelly was gravely ill. All day long the word was that he was in bad shape but was still hanging in there. I was preparing to go on stage at my usual time, intending to make another phone call to find out how he was just as soon as I was finished. No cell phones in those days. Just as I was about to take to the stage a friend breathlessly ran up to me and told me the awful news that Luke was gone. I was very shocked, but I felt that my years of experience would allow me to perform without the awful news affecting me until after the show. It was all going well until, after about half an hour, I introduced The Town I Loved So Well, which I always included in my set. As always I praised Luke’s version in my introduction, but I decided not to bring the audience down by telling them of his passing. They’d find out soon enough. I started to sing it and suddenly was hit by something I had never experienced before, and although I’d heard of it I didn’t really believe it existed: I got an actual lump in my throat. I mean a real, physical lump – I couldn’t breathe past it. The people in the audience were concerned and baffled by my sudden silence. Suddenly somebody (probably my friend who had brought the news) yelled out “Help him out, for Jaysus’ sake!” Some people started to sing the song, and suddenly the Page 24 Senior Times March 2014
news of Luke’s death flashed around the hall and within moments everybody was standing. Naturally I often think of some of the amazing times we had, and of some of the hilarious (with hindsight) mishaps that befell us on our travels. But now on his anniversary I remember, too. the more private moments we had, the occasional quiet times when, late at night in some Danish, Dutch or German hotel residents’ bar, I would see a side of him that he seldom allowed others to see. For example his frustration at never having had access to a further education (I can think of no-one else who would have benefited more from the university experience); his inner turmoil at being wealthy while his heart was ruled by his hard, socialist beliefs (which showed itself in his careless and cavalier attitude to money, and made him a willing target for every freeloader within miles); and his loneliness. Loneliness Yes, Luke was lonely for most of his life. Some staunch and loyal friends like Tommy Weddick watched over him from a respectful distance, but it was a thankless task in many ways. In his final years he got love and comfort from Madeleine Seiler, but up to then he was very aware of being a man alone. He would bluster and pretend that was how he liked it, but that wasn’t true. In spite of being almost universally admired, surrounded by acquaintances and glad-handers and being lionised as the greatest interpreter of a narrative ballad in our www.seniortimes.ie