January 2002 |
| LETTER TO FRANCIS by Dick Tynan
Dear Francis,Long time no see.... But not so long a time compared to the happy reunion I witnessed yesterday afternoon in Capel Street. Strolling down the ancient boulevard
in company with Jazz Legend, the drummer Johnny Moondog
Butler, who had recently returned to Ireland from the
U.S.A. where he had lived for more than 30 years, I was
struck by his quiet, almost pensive demeanour – a
condition that seemed to intensify as the day wore on. Moondog had ambled the city’s
pavements marvelling initially at the changes;
particularly the North and South Quays from Heuston
– although he still knew it as Kingsbridge Station
– to the Point Theatre, another venue he
couldn’t quite recall !The further he roamed the
more mute he became, until finally when he arrived
outside the Dublin Corporation Civic Offices, on Wood
Quay, he had lapsed into complete silence. And, Francis,
that’s the sad point, Moondog was so disoriented he
couldn’t seem to recall any of the places his tired
legs had brought him. |
The Theatre Royal and The Capitol –
even The Corinthian, the popular cinema on Eden Quay
known as “The Ranch”, had disappeared, as had
Nelson’s Pillar and also Woolworth’s of Henry
Street. But, worst of all, from Moondog’s point of
view, the venues where he had gigged in the 1950’s
and 60’s – The Olympia on Pleasant St., The
Four Provinces on Harcourt St. and The Metropole, the
Crystal and Ballerina Ballrooms, had all gone. Johnny
Moondog Butler, it seemed, had become the legend of a
city that no longer existed….. All
this I could read in his mind as we moved forlornly
through the fair city’s pavements. In desperation,
Francis, I felt so sad for him, I found myself
frantically eyeing the passing populace in search of
someone I might know that I might introduce him and
perhaps lessen his feeling of isolation. All my efforts seemed in vain, until
passing St. Michael and John’s Church on Essex Quay,
I called upon the patron Saint of Lost Causes and
implored Saint Anthony to come to my aid. My silent
prayer had hardly been uttered, when the request I had
asked was miraculously and immediately granted –
manifesting itself in the form of a warm, loud bellow. “Moondog, is it yourself
?” “Milo, you son of a gun, I
can/’t believe it !” I faded discretely into the
background to allow fellow expatriots, actor Milo
O’Shea and Johnny Moondog Butler renew old
acquaintances of early days when Johnny was playing at
The Jolly Sixpence Pub in New York where Milo would visit
– and even earlier days, as Milo recalled Moondog
playing with his father’s orchestra in Bray’s
‘Bar B Ballroom’ in the 50’s. Later on, Francis, while reflecting
on this whole poignant episode, and in particular the
warm way in which Milo and Moondog had greeted each
other, I couldn’t help but wonder whether or not
St.Anthony had been working on, not one, but perhaps even
two lost wandering souls. I do know however how deeply I felt
about this happy reunion and was grateful to have been
present to witness it. Your old pal, Dick. |
