Hi Gemma, thank you for taking the time to edit my story there. It provides context for anyone not from here. I’ve tweaked it again a little bit mostly with technical details and continuity in mind and I hope this is in keeping with your audience’s expectations. You are welcome to use it on your Write you write me site etc., perhaps we should include a disclaimer of some sort as well. All the best Myles
Pilgrimage to Ballycolman
In Ballycolman Estate in Strabane Co Tyrone some years ago the son of a man was sent forth by his other half to gather the people together and plaster their new garage. The Plastering One and his faithful followers were duly summoned. Little did they know that their work was about to create a place of Pilgrimage.
People on the Estate knew of Lourdes, Knock Shrine in Co Mayo moving statues in Ballinspittle Co Cork, weeping statues in Kerrytown Co Donegal and the House of Prayer but never in Ballycolman – Estate.
It being a friendly place the neighbours came with wheelbarrows and shovels; a cement mixer was summoned from Mahon Hire and after the laying of hands on the starting cord the righteous Belle Mixer was duly roused and came to life. The sand was mixed with the cement and water flowed forth into it and a little Larson mortar mix was added by the followers of The Plastering One (because it was warm that day). And so the work on the wall – a gable extension of a house- began.
. The Plastering One oversaw this work and said, “Render onto the wall what belongs on the wall”.
And so the assembled people set to work. Now, there was much discussion among the followers as to whether it would be more righteous to apply one coat or two coats? The Plastering One however could not be swayed and so it came to pass that the work was completed two coats later. The instruments of The Plastering One were duly washed in the traditional manner and the followers of Mahon returned to escort Belle Mixer back to the Temple Of Tools.
The neighbours looked upon the work and were pleased.
A great feast was prepared for that evening. There was much merriment and The Plastering One sat in the place of honour and held forth on important matters (it’s true).
As darkness fell over Ballycolman and the surrounding townlands everyone fell under varying degrees of sleep
Night came followed by day (this is always happening around here) and so on until the 4th day. On that day something extraordinary happened.
A water mark appeared on the freshly drying plastered gable wall to the left of the garage door.
It took the form of a face.
Now, at that time three well-dressed wise men from the local Council Roads Service were wandering through the area in search of a sign. The stop sign from St. Colman’s’ Drive had disappeared yet again and they were carrying out an investigation.
The wise men passed where a crowd was starting to gather to gaze at ‘The Face’. The wise men saw the missing street sign they were looking for lying on the Green in front of the houses and they proclaimed loudly, “Here is the Sign we have been looking for”
Thinking the three men were from the Knights Of Columbanus (founded in Belfast in 1915), the crowd gathered in front of the gable wall with the Face on it were suitably impressed and started nudging each other and saying things like; “There, told you so.,” to each other, “
The crowd then began to speculate about who the Face on the wall could be. Meanwhile the three wise men left again to get ‘lunch’ guided towards the illuminated sign over the Starlight Bar. “We’ve enough done for one day” they told each other as they happily strolled down the road.
They would send a truck for the sign later.
Meanwhile, the crowd reassured by the appearance of the three wise men and their proclamation, had decided that the Face was that of Padre Pio.
A suggestion by The Plastering One and his faithful followers that the Face could be Che Guevara was rejected out of hand by the now mostly female and over 40’s crowd. The women having rejected the Che Guevara option because he was an atheist and therefore wouldn’t be an ideal candidate for an apparition.
The Plastering One realizing his ideas wouldn’t be accepted in his native town loaded his tools and followers into his Transit Van and headed for theLifford Border and Bundoran in Co Donegal. He continued his work there, successfully plastering a block of apartments and with his followers converting many wayward and derelict buildings back to the path of righteousness.
Meanwhile, back at the newly plastered garage in Ballycolman, locals were being joined by people from all over Ireland who came and went in small groups to gaze on the Face in the drying plaster on the gable of the house. Then the buses started to arrive. Hundreds of people were arriving daily and their leaders began to lead them in prayer
Walking past ,as it was getting dark on that first evening of the arrival of the buses (on a refreshment related pilgrimage of my own to Sigerson’s GAC clubhouse) I saw about 300 people had just knelt down around the garage.
Then, the door of the house opened and a woman emerged. She didn’t seem to notice the crowd. She slid up the garage door to reveal people working out at full tilt on gym equipment with the TV playing music inside the garage.
The crowd kneeling and praying in front of the garage didn’t seem fazed by this turn of events. But the folks in the garage were clearly shocked by the 300-plus people kneeling facing them just outside their praying lips and faces lit up by the lights from the garage. The door then slid slowly shut and the crowd continued reciting the rosary outside while those inside were presumably still working out watching VH1 Classic.
This kept up for a few months. Crowds would come and pray in front of the Face on the wall.
Then Padre Pio’s image left.
Maybe his work in Ballycolman was done and he was needed elsewhere. Maybe he didn’t like VH1 Classic and just couldn’t take it anymore. Possibly the mysterious reappearance of the Stop sign at St Colman’s Drive gave him the excuse he needed to leave. For whatever reason the image faded and changed until the wall looked normal again.
Because the authorities there continued to reject The Plastering One and his followers over their beliefs he delayed his return to Ballycolman.The people there still await his second coming.
Meanwhile, he continued his ministry in the land beyond the Bluestack Mountains where he went on to drive out the demon damp by righteously dry lining several accursed and afflicted barn conversions. Many were the people there who were building walls, houses and shops that sought his help. He cured many people of the ‘curse of curved walls’ and those suffering from a widespread and previously incurable virus called ‘reluctant payer disease’ were also cured and of course ‘enlightened’. Amen.
A reading from the Book of ‘The Ramblings a Donnelly’
Myles Donnelly, Strabane, Co Tyrone, Tel. 02871885888
Susie and the Computer Guy
I knew it’s was ridiculous but as I began to clean out Susie, my old computer for the last time I feel as if I was betraying her. Why did I name her Susie? Isn’t it obvious? No man would work so hard and be as faithful and forgiving as she has been since I got her in 1995. She was my first computer. The one I struggled to learn on; the one who forgave me when I deleted half her brain power and left her gasping for survival. But regardless of what I did she restarted and bravely met the needs of her idiot illiterate techno keyboard puncher.
As I became more techno savvy I bought a shiny new laptop and later, a newer, faster computer. But my heart belonged to Susie and I would inevitably find myself sitting in front of her screen tapping the keys.
ead More2020 meet 1960s
Why did I ever change to Sky Q Box I grumbled when it dawned on me that it wasn’t going to work in my mobile home in Co Donegal No Sky; no On Demand, no Sky Cinema no Netflicks, no Catch Up.
How could I survive without the choice of films, box sets and documentaries to choose from?
The Creaky Gate
Master Fleming sat on a high stool overlooking the classes of the 5th and 6th. Over the blackboard hung a big map of Ireland and Master Fleming using a pointer was explaining in detail the seaports and the rivers and their importance to the welfare of the state.
We were all listening except one boy who was busy writing in his copy. The Master asked s him what he was doing. The pupil didn’t answer but covered his copy book with his hands. “Bring the copy book up to me,” the Master ordered. The boy was turning all kinds of colours. He had his head down on his hands and was no doubt wishing the ground would open and swallow him.
Murlog: The Men’s Aisle
Murlog National School was opened in 1909.When I got there in the 1950s it hadn’t changed much.
I hated school. Sandwiched three to a desk made for two make me itchy and irritable. Despite my lack of sight I was a quick learner. But I was also stubborn. My brother Tom, who was in the same class as me says my stubbornness came from being short sighted.
Murlog School a Practical Education
Margaret/Maggie Mc Gettigan nee Porter loved in the Holland; born in 1913 she was the eldest of five children. When she started school her mother brought her up to Cavan and Hannah Mc Gettigan accompanied her to school. It was a very long walk for a wee girl but when she got to know the way she took the direct route from the Hollands.
There were two thatched cottages inside the chapel gate and on the right-hand side beside the burn. She thinks a family named Mc Hugh lived in one of the cottages. Further up, the mission cross and the chapel were situated.
Thomas and Catherine
Parking his bike behind the chapel wall Thomas snapped off his bicycle clips and straightened the crease in his trousers. He could see a group gathered around the door of the old school; the red tips of their cigarettes glowing in the dark like small red pinpoints of light. Across the road St Patrick’s newly opened school stood silent and aloof.
MASTER MC DONAGH
By Michael O Hanlon
Master Mc Donagh was a much loved teacher. He taught in Murlog school from1920-1948. He lived in Derry and travelled to school on the train. The children walked with him every day which was unusual in those days as children did not talk to a teacher.
The Odd Irish Words
A short scene set in an Irish Public House
“That’s a tara night,” Seamie, a fifty something bachelor farmer who lived along the Lifford border, commented as Micky his drinking companion sat down beside him. His friend carefully slurped around the edges of the white head of the black stuff the barman placed before him. He knew Seamie required no answer. “Did ye see the yoke I passed on the way in? “Micky said nodding in the direction of the end of the bar.
Old Sayings
If the Oak is out before the Ash
Then you may expect a splash
If the Ash is out before the Oak
Then you may expect a soak
So many frosts in March
So many fogs in May
My Mammy
My mother Madge as a young woman
My mammy was a lovely wee woman. She had loved one man all her life
And bore him nine healthy children and loved them all alike
Ill health has a way of making itself felt when things are going just right
Death took its toll.
More to life than romance
A local farmer had a pedigree bull on loan from the Department of Agriculture, but as he failed to return him after the specified period the minister dispatched two inspectors to investigate. After much searching they found the house but could not get an answer when they knocked on the door. Having come so far they decided to look around; it was then they heard a noise, so they hid behind the hedge to see what was going on. To their astonishment they saw their man with the bull yoked to the plough and him shouting “Get up the yard there; there’s more to life than romance.”
Laughing is good medicine
The Fishers of Porthall
Come all the gallant Clonleigh men
I pray you hear my tale,
‘Tis one will give you pleasure
Now I venture to go bail,
Since Foyle men gain the battle long fought out in
Dublin Town
There’s no more fear of poverty,
And wealth will now abound.
The Fishers of Porthall
| The Pastor’s Ass
The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and it won again. The local paper read: PASTOR’S ASS OUT FRONT.
The next day, the local paper headline read: BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR’S ASS.
The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN. READ MORE
He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10. The next day the paper read: NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.
The next day the headlines read: NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE.
The moral of the story is . . . being concerned about public opinion can bring you much grief and misery … So be yourself and enjoy life. Stop worrying about everyone else’s ass and you’ll be a lot happier and live longer! Have a nice day! |
A woman’s Place
I’m glad that times have changed today
From the poverty of the larder bare
The gas mantle and the Tilly Lamp
A woman’s role to see to all
Regardless of the meagre faire
True Story All Soul’s Night
It wasn’t as bad as my father had made out walking past Murlog graveyard in the dead of night, I thought. Never worry, the dead won’t harm ye.” George McLucas, who lived in the cottages on the way to Ballindrait Train Station used to tell us children after our father had scared the bejesus out of us.
I wasn’t so sure.
Why had I waited for the last dance in the orchid Ballroom in Lifford and missed my
BITS FROM THE FAMILY TREE
Early Years: The unintended smuggler.
Before I was married getting to Strabane on a Saturday night to walk up the Main Street and down the Back Street was exciting and adventurous. But I missed out on the experience of dancing to the showbands in the Palindrome . Or hearing, in the absence of a bar, the now famous catchphrase – Are you going for a mineral.
Hannah’s Bar
Close to the judo club behind Stewarts clothes shop in the Lower main Street in Strabane there was pub called Joe Hannah’s. It had a stout brown wooden outer street door and set in recess was a narrow salon type door you
Murlog Old Church
By Anna French
Murlog old Church or ‘The Chapel’ as it was called was built in 1760 during a time when Catholic religion was forbidden. The land had been given by Earl of Erne in the 18th century when he saw a large congregation praying in the open air and was moved by their faith.
The three stage gothic, which dates from about 1820 stands today as a link to the past.
Old photographs – Good Memories
Behind Stewart’s clothes shop in Strabane’s Lower Main Street three nights times a week we’d climb upwards on a rickety ladder.
Archie Jack’s weight lifting club was on the first floor.
He Lifted weights as if they were jelly babies
The Judo club was higher still. Holding on tight and keeping close to the wall we ascended a second ladder.
Tale from Café in Lifford Saturday Night
The crowds of drinkers and cinema-goers usually abated around 2am – Saturday night Sunday morning. My father would lift the keys of his minibus to take the waitresses home. I recall there was one taxi in Lifford in the early 1960s. It was owned by an elderly man called ‘Bumby’ McNealy. (I don’t think I ever knew his real first name.) No way was he doing business in the early hours of Sunday morning. So it was up to my father to see his staff safely home. He often gave other people ‘lifts’ home too.
This true story is about one such man.
Lifford in the good old days
Still writing this memoir for my sons I wonder how I could bring the town alive for them as it had been for me in the 60s.
Different things came to mind; walking across the old stone bridge, the fishermen standing up to their thighs in a pair of ‘waders’ casting a net in the hope of catching a salmon.
The Customs Post with the cattle Lorries lined head to toe as the drivers waited for their
HIRING FAIR – WORKING ON THE LAGAN
An Imagined tale by Gemma Hill May 2018
I was up early that May morning. My mother hadn’t to call me twice. I was going to the hiring fair in Strabane to make my fortune.
My mother’s face was sad as she handed me a string bag with my few things in it. I barely notice so excited was I to be going to work in the lagan.
Poems from Murlog School Past Pupils
The Scribblers Writers Group was talking about school days and the poem “Wee Hughie” by Elizabeth Shane, a Belfast born poet who spent much of her life in Donegal. She never went to Murlog School as I did but it got me thinking about when I started school and when my own boys started school.
And before I knew it I was browsing through the Murlog School Centenary Book (1909- 2009) as part of my own research for my memoir for my own sons, now grown men, and I found great wee poems penned by past pupils.
Every Day Struggle
As I sat there all alone a thought intruded on my mind.
My dreams have been snatched from me; my hopes have fled and left me behind.
The world passes by and gives not a glance; I wish that I could show them.
I am not useless. I deserve a chance.
I should not be left out here. I am human too. I could handle your occupation better than you.
Memories of his school days by Local man Willie John Carlin,
historian and railway enthusiast who died January 2005 RIP.
Where were you born, Willie John and what school did you go to?
I was born in 1929 – which leaves me over seventy now. I went to a seat of learning called Barrack Street School. When everything around me is so painful and I hear disturbing stories from the world wide news media, I find that if I turn the volume down and just go back to when I went to school in Barrack Street it’s so comforting.
Children In Need
Mary self-consciously wears her fake designer gear down town. She squirms inside knowing some smart mouth will sneer. Her mother buys her clothes second hand with money she can’t afford to spend. She knows she will never fit in. She’s poor. She’s not one of them. Sometimes she wishes she could end it all.
Mill Street Memories
My mother used to say a wandering foot always found its way to places it owner had never intended to go in the first place.
And my wandering feet do take me places I have never planned to be. (If you see what I mean)
Wandering feet is in the genes, I think. My mother’s sister, Aunty Theresa Mc Colgan, leaned to drive after many attempts.
But determined woman that she was, she did succeed in the end.
Easter flowers a Political Metaphor
Easter flowers symbols of new growth, new life
And never the question is proffered how I
A politician, like nature
Can bring forth new life this Easter season?
What ‘resurrections’ in political speak
Will be forthcoming this Easter time?
Tales of histories repeat? No new life?
Let the Easter flowers wither?
Darkness dominating governments?
No hope for our future?
The Blackbird Of Belfast lough
For World Poetry Day 3017
Article courtesy of the internet
The Seamus Heaney Centre’s blackbird logo was designed by Jeffrey Morgan and is inspired by a ninth-century piece of Irish marginalia, sometimes given the title ‘The Blackbird of Belfast Lough’.
We don’t know the author, but the poem could have been written at Bangor Abbey, situated on the southern shore of Loch Laíg (Belfast Lough). The Abbey was founded in 559 by St Comgall and by the time he died, in 601, as many as three thousand monks looked to the Abbot for guidance. The Abbey was one of the finest places of learning in Europe, producing
Down in Fannet, in times gone by, lived Jamie Freel and his mother.
Jamie was the widow’s sole support; his strong arm worked for her untiringly.
As each Saturday night came round, he poured his wages into her lap
Thanking her dutifully for the halfpence which she returned him for tobacco.
He was extolled by his neighbours as the best son ever known or heard of.
I looked at this photograph of this choir and I began to think about the many streets and places thegirls in it represented.
I can only name a few::
Anita Mc Garrigle Mourne Avenue
Anita Norris and Pauline Norris Townsend Street
The photograph was taken in 1951
Can you put a name to the streets where the other choir members lived>
It made me think how much the streets and places in Strabane has changed since then.
My Town Of Strabane
“Memories etched in gold …”
The first glimpse you saw of Strabane was the church spires towering over the town as you crossed Lifford Bridge.
The highlight of our week was getting to the Commodore Cinema to see Flash Gordon on a Saturday afternoon. After the cinema we’d walk around to the “Back Street” to Cassini’s Cake for a sixpenny bag of chips before heading back home. The journey never seemed that long as Flash Gordon was the topic of conversation.
A little flutter on the Horses This Patrick’s Day but not at the Carricklee Races
Knowing nothing about horses or horse racing the term point-to -point meant nothing to him, my husband Fran hill says. But he has vivid memories of walking from Townsend Street with his aunts Teresa and Mary Ellen, both deceased now, to the St Patrick Day Carricklee Races. Back in the day when travel was something somebody else did. It was the highlight of the year.
The townsfolk of Strabane, Sion Mills and surrounding districts flocked in their hundreds to enjoy the carnival atmosphere and partake of a nice cup of tea or a wee drink in the Marquee.
Mind, then
In the zodiac 2016 is the Year of the Fire Monkey. It begins on February 8th and ends on 27th January 2017
The Monkey lucky numbers are: 1, 7.8 Lucky colours: White, Gold and Blue.
The Monkey flower is the Chrysanthemum
When we were in Indonesia in 2013 we visit the Ubud Sacred Monkey Sanctuary in Bali
We’d been told that the monkeys would steal our earrings – anything shiny. But it wasn’t like that at all. The young monkeys sat about on the walls and trees like old men chattering to each other.
ST BRIGID’S DAY TODAY – A GOOD FEISTY IRISH SAINT.
Today is the first day of spring and St Brigid’s birth day
Her father, Dubthach, a pagan chieftain named her after a pagan goddess of fire and poetry.
Her childhood has a familiar current ring to it. As a child and a young woman she went between living in her father’s house and in the house of a Druid. As a young woman her father tired of her excessive giving to the poor and wanted her married her off. She refused saying she would devote her life to the poor and elderly.
Back in the day, as it drew near Christmas time children would learn rhythms, dress up in old clothes, wear masks made from cardboard and straw and go from door-to-door as mummers. What they rhymed changed slightly to fit in with local culture.
There were seven characters : The Prince, The Doctor,Jack Straw, Buck Sweep, Devil Dout, Big Head and Jack Frost. . Every character had a rhyme to say. The rhymes I remember best are; the Prince ”Room, room gallant boys give us room to rhyme’ – and the Doctor – ‘Here comes I wee Doctor Brown; the best wee doctor in the town’ – and Devil Dout – ‘Here come I Divil Dout if ye don’t give me yer money I’ll sweep ye ’til yer grave – and then Jack Straw ‘Here come I Jack Straw funniest man ye ever saw…’ He played the music and danced.
Every group carried ‘weapons’ to suit their character and to help tell the story. Some carried a fiddle or a tin whistle. other carried an accordion to make music.
After the money was handed over the mummers would get a wee drop of tae ‘in their hand’ and the family would joined in singing Christmas carols and other songs.
As children we were excited and scared witless by them. And the dog used to run under the table and growl out at them.
Some people said they were connected to the Summer Solstice (Dec 22th shortest day) – to demonstrate good over evil.
Phyllis Conway, the author of this poem gives a good account of the going-on of the mummers
Go on, enjoy a little bit of nostalgia
This poem was penned by David Wilders, a young schoolboy from Strabane.
It was first published in the ‘Shared Spaces Poetry Collection’ in 2012
I think his view of Strabane is spot on. What do you think?
Alongside David Wilder’s poem is a beautiful and amazing image captured by Jim Hamilton of The Three Bridges of Strabane at the 2015 the Halloween Celebrations
Enjoy both artists’ work
It’s always makes me feel good to see positive images and hear stories of my own place. In the past Strabane has been painted in a dim light. Today its a great place to live and write.
My thanks to Gavin Kelly for this excellent portrayal of my town
You Never Know By Helen L. Marshall
You never know when someone May catch a dream from you You never know when a little word Or something you may do May open up the windows Of a mind that seals a light The way you love, may not matter at all But you never know it might. And just in case it could be That another’s life, through you Might possibly change for the better With a broader and brighter view It seems it might be worth a try At pointing the way to the right Of course it may not matter at all, But then again…it might
READING ROOMS
I’m proud to say I’m a volunteer with the Verbal Arts Reading Rooms
What’s that you might well ask?
It’s a creative shared reading project launched by James Kerr, the director of the Verbal Arts in Derry/Londonderry in 2013 and which under the creative core reading rooms team at the VCE is rapidly spreading to other parts of the North.
A well known poem my Flann O Brian who was born
in the Bowling Green in Strabane, Co. Tyrone.
The Workman’s Friend”
| When things go wrong and will not come right, Though you do the best you can, When life looks black as the hour of night – A pint of plain is your only man. When money’s tight and hard to get And your horse has also ran, When all you have is a heap of debt – A pint of plain is your only man. Read MoreWhen health is bad and your heart feels strange, And your face is pale and wan, When doctors say you need a change, A pint of plain is your only man. When food is scarce and your larder bare And no rashers grease your pan, When hunger grows as your meals are rare – A pint of plain is your only man. In time of trouble and lousey strife, You have still got a darlint plan You still can turn to a brighter life – A pint of plain is your only man. — Flann O’Brien (Brian O’Nolan)
Brian O’Nolan, more often recognized by his penname Flann O’Brien, was a major figurehead of Irish literature as a novelist, playwright and satirist, widely followed for his bizarre, dark humour and modernist/postmodern metafiction. Here are some of his witty quotations 1. “Is it life? I would rather be without it. For there is queer small utility in it. You cannot eat it or drink it or smoke it in your pipe.” 2. “The majority of the members of the Irish parliament are professional politicians, in the sense that otherwise they would not be given jobs minding mice at crossroads.” 3. “A wise old owl once lived in a wood, the more he heard the less he said, the less he said the more he heard, let’s emulate that wise old bird.” -From his novel, At Swim Two Birds 4. “When I want to read anything, however, I usually write it meself.” 5. “Remember that I too was Irish. Today I am cured. I am no longer Irish. I am merely a person. I cured myself after many years of suffering.” 6. “Having considered the matter in, of course, all its aspects, I have decided that there is no excuse for poetry.” 7. “It only occurred to me the other day that I will have biographers… All sorts of English persons writing books “interpreting” me.” 8. “I am completely half afraid to think.” -From his novel, The Third Policeman 9. “It cannot too often be pointed out that women are people.” 10. “In Boston he met a pretty lady, fat and forty, but beautiful with the bloom of cash and collateral.”
|
A Cat & Mouse Affair
A mouse scurried into a house
Under my bed it settled its head
‘Tis a stranger you are and not welcome here’
Soon you will swoon ‘neth a bright harvest
Moon
And be no more. Go, before it’s your fate
Not a beat did the thing heed
Feasting on Cheddar it ignored my pleas
The resounding snap
Of the guillotine trap sounded beneath
O my Love’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Love’s like the melodie that’s
sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass
, So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
“DANNY BOY”
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone and all the roses falling
‘tis you, ‘is you must go and i must bide.
The Singing Rage
Bio Pattie Page The Tennesse Waltz
What a story of love and betrayal. I’m sure we didn’t do it justice or sing it like Patti Page sung it in our Friday Singalong with vocal Couch Aideen Davis (great girl, brilliant musician). But boy! We give it all we had and we had fun doing it.
Go On – have a go…
I was dancin’ with my darling to the Tennesse Waltz
When an old friend I happened to see
I introduced him to my darlin’ and while they were dancing
My Friends stole my baby from me
I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz
Now I know just how much I have lost
Yes, I lost my little darlin’ the night they were playin’
That beautiful Tennessee Waltz
……………………………………….
Ah go on! Sing the chorus again – a real pull at the heartstring song that hasn’t lost anything by age
Read her bio below
| Date of Birth | 8 November 1927, Claremore, Oklahoma, USA |
| Date of Death | 1 January 2013, Encinitas, California, USA |
| Birth Name | Clara Ann Fowler |
| Nickname | The Singing Rage |
| Height | 5′ 4″ (1.63 m) |
Mini Bio (1)
Patti Page was born Clara Ann Fowler in Oklahoma in 1927. She began her professional singing career at KTUL, a Tulsa radio station. Since the program was sponsored by Page Milk, she adopted the moniker Patti Page, and it stuck. Patti toured the US in the late 1940s with Jimmy Joy, and notably sang with the Benny Goodman band in Chicago. In 1950 she recorded “With My Eyes Wide Open I’m Dreaming”, her first platinum-selling record. In 1951 her rendition of “The Tennessee Waltz” became the biggest hit of her career. It was #1 on the Billboard charts and stayed there for 30 weeks; over the years it would sell 10 million copies. Patti was the best-selling female vocalist of the 1950s, and was wildly popular all through the 1960s. She got national exposure on TV shows, appearing on such top-rated television programs as The Dean Martin Show (1965). In 1968 she recorded what some consider her signature song, “Have a Little Faith and Love Will Come to You.” Patti continued to thrill fans for decades. In 1999 she received a Grammy for her “Live at Carnegie Hall” album, a compilation from her 50th-anniversary concert. Patti has millions of fans, and we can live by the words of her famous song: “Beyond the clouds the sky is always blue / Have a little faith and love will come to you.”
Spouse (3)
| Jerome Joseph Filiciotto | (12 May 1990 – 18 April 2009) (his death) |
| Charles O’Curran | (28 December 1956 – 20 June 1972) (divorced) (2 children) |
| Jack Skiba | (May 1948 – 1949) (divorced) |
Trivia (17)
Received the Women’s International Center (WIC) Living Legacy Award in 1991.
Best known for her 1951 million-selling country and pop smash “The Tennessee Waltz.”
One of 11 children.
Performed on radio station KTUL in Tulsa, Okla., as part of Al Clauser and His Oklahoma Outlaws (using her birth name, Fowler); also peforming on the show was a singer billed as “Patti Page” for the Page Milk Co. When that performer left, Fowler took her place and name.
Known for her silky voice and almost chaste style, Patti shrugged and said that’s what people wanted from her.
Patti and her second husband have temporary guardianship over two of her daughter’s young children.
Recorded more than 100 albums and 160 singles (84 of which made Billboard’s “top 40”) and has three certified gold albums and fifteen gold singles.
In 1957, she was deemed favorite female vocalist in the first nationwide audience poll taken on Dick Clark‘s New American Bandstand 1965 (1952).
Adopted two children, Kathleen and Danny, during her marriage to Hollywood choreographer Charles O’Curran, who was best known for staging the dance numbers of many of Elvis Presley‘s early films. She moved her children to Rancho Santa Fe, California following their divorce.
Played Carnegie Hall for the first time on May 31, 1997. Captured on CD, “Patti Page Live at Carnegie Hall – the 50th Anniversary Concert” earned the singer her first Grammy Award.
In spite of the British invasion, she made a “top 10” record in 1965 with the title song for Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964), the “grand guignol” chiller starring Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland. She performed the nominated song on the broadcast of The 37th Annual Academy Awards (1965).
Played and recorded with legendary Nashville session guitar player Hank Garland.
You can hear her gentle remark to “Go, Hank!” when legendary guitarist Hank Garland played a dazzling solo on her Nashville recording of ‘Just Because”.
Is mentioned, by name, in the lyrics of Bruce Johnston‘s “Disney Girls”, from The Beach Boys‘ album, “Surf’s Up” (1971).
Has a street named after her in Claremore, Oklahoma, where she was born. Highway 20 running up to Oologah, which is the birthplace of’ Will Rogers’, is also known as Patti Page Blvd.
She was awarded a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for Recording at 6760 Hollywood Boulevard in Hollywood, California.
Appears as one of the passengers in a boat in the 1961 Elvis Presley film, Blue Hawaii (1961), which was choreographed by her then-husband, Charles O’Curran.
Personal Quotes (4)
I kept singing. Your voice dries up if you don’t use it. And I can still do it. I stopped smoking 30 years ago, and if I were still smoking, believe me, I would not be singing.
What I like about singing is that, for me, it’s a substitute for the psychiatrist’s couch. I can tell it all in song: pathos, gladness, love, joy, unhappiness. Each song, you’re telling a story and acting.
A lot of the music, and especially rap, I don’t understand. As for [today’s] pop stars, I never had the occasion to listen. I never felt it warranted my attention.”
A lot of younger people don’t know me from Adam. I wish that my grandchildren would know who I was a little better. They’ve heard the records, of course, but it’s not quite the same thing. [The Arizona Republic, Jan. 13, 1995]
, Fowler took her place and name.
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 