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Blackthorn’s Lead Guitarist Says Farewell

Seamus is going solo.

After 15 years, Seamus Kelleher, the lead guitarist for the ultra-popular Celtic rock band Blackthorn—their name in Irish means “sold out”—played his last gig with the guys he calls “my best friends.” It was last Saturday night at an Archbishop Ryan benefit (that was sold out, of course).

That doesn’t mean he’s not going to sit in occasionally. But after a near-death experience and launching his first solo CD a couple of years ago—two events that were nearly simultaneous—the Galway native says he wants to take a shot at “getting my own music heard by a wider audience.”

Kelleher is in his late 50s, a time when every birthday party reminds you that you’re closer to “last call.” But a few years ago, he got up close and personal with his own mortality. After a show, Kelleher tumbled down a steep staircase at the Kildare’s Pub in King of Prussia, fracturing his skull and suffering a traumatic brain injury. He was taken by helicopter to the University of Pennsylvania Trauma Center in critical condition. Miraculously, he came through with no residual effects though, he jokes, “that depends on who you talk to—some say yes, some say no.”

He’s also the father of four young children, ranging in age from 7 to 13; vice president of Philadelphia firm for which he travels; and in addition to his Blackthorn gigs he’s been soloing both here and in Ireland, playing his own brand of Celtic blues.

“I cherish my time with Blackthorn,” Kelleher told us this week. “I’m going to miss the guys so much, all the camaraderie and all the Blackthorn fans, but I feel an obligation to myself to make time to do this. I can only serve so many masters and I want to be 100 percent focused on what I’m doing. With all that going on, I didn’t have much left for the family. I believe that unless you have balance in your life you’re not going to be happy.”

After his debut album, “Four Cups of Coffee,” he began doing solo shows in Ireland (Monroe’s Live and The Crane in Galway, and Portmarnock Country Club  in Dublin as well as Ulysses, a folk club in New York City, Puck in Doylestown, and lately, the Moose Lodge in Doylestown). He plays his own compositions and salts the evening’s playlist with covers of Jimi Hendrix, Jethro Tull, and Dylan. And comedy. There will always be funny stories and jokes.

“People come to my shows expecting me to be serious while immersed in my solos, but I can’t do that,” he says. “I’m too screwed up an individual to do that. I see the humor in things.”

Then he tells the story of when the paramedics were trying to take a history from him after he woke up in the chopper, post-staircase acrobatics. “I see lights flashing all around me and I thought to myself, is this me going to the other end?” he laughs.

They wanted to know if he had a family history of heart disease (both parents), and about his smoking (“only when I drink”), drinking (“five to six days a week, and on the weekends it could be 7-8 drinks looking at each other”), and whether he had high cholesterol (“Yep!”). “And I know they’re thinking, this guy’s dead. Then they asked me what I did. I told them, ‘I’m a musician.’ They looked at each other and started laughing. I know they were thinking, with that history, I should have been dead 10 years before I had that accident.

“Well there’s no better defense than humor,” says Kelleher, who cleaned up his act after that. “You can disarm the most miserable bastard in the world with a sense of humor and protect yourself from the bad times.”

That’s something he can share with his CD producer Pete Huttlinger. Kelleher has been in Nashville with Huttlinger, a renowned guitarist, recording some tracks for a new CD. Not long ago, Huttlinger, who is only in his 40s, suffered a stroke, leaving him paralyzed and speechless. “But he’s playing now with Darryl Hall and it will be a while but he’ll be back,” Kelleher says.

The new CD, he says, won’t be as eclectic as the first one, which reflected Kelleher’s many interests, from traditional Celtic music, to Southern blues, to the music by famed Irish rocker Rory Gallagher. “That first album had everything but the kitchen sink,” he laughs. “The new one will have a singer-songwriter feel to it. I’m putting together 10-11 songs that have a common thread. There will be a lot more continuity.” He expects it to debut in the spring.

Until then you can see and hear him again at Puck in Doylestown and on Friday, March 11, at the Moose Lodge  in Doylestown. And maybe, occasionally, with the boys of Blackthorn. He’s not planning to stop the music any time soon.

“I’ve been been very blessed,” he says. “I’ve been in music 42 years professionally. Most musicians my age have long stopped doing it. I’m doing it more than ever and enjoying it more than ever. In last five years my playing has progressed much further than I ever imagined it would. And as long as I can see improvement, I’ll continue to play. Once that stops, it won’t be as interesting.”

See photos by Patti Byrd of Kelleher’s swan song with Blackthorn.

People

Kathy McGee Burns: Blazing Her Own Parade Route

Kathy McGee Burns, receiving the Inspirational Irish Women award.

Kathy McGee Burns, receiving the Inspirational Irish Women award.

On Sunday, March 13, when Kathy McGee Burns officially presides over the Philadelphia St. Patrick’s Day Parade, as only the second female president since its 1771 debut, she is going to have some very special guests marching with her.

The little girl who grew up in the Philly suburbs with no knowledge of her Irish roots is now the woman leading the parade. And joining her will be her McGee cousins from Donegal.

That moment has been a lifetime in the making. Because the same father who instilled in McGee Burns the belief that she could be anything she wanted, do anything she put her mind to, was the equal to anyone … was the same father who, like so many of his generation, denied his own Irish-ness.

“It’s incredible to me,” McGee Burns marveled. “I see my whole life as a journey. I don’t know how I got here, but I did.

“I always had this draw to being Irish …. Wondering, where was I from, where could I claim as my heritage? But my father, Timothy McGee, never talked about his family.

“He grew up very poor. His father, Hugh McGee, was the black sheep of the family. He was an alcoholic who left the family. My grandmother, Mary Jo Callahan, raised my father and his brother with the help of her mother and sisters. She cleaned houses to put food on the table.

“My father was a very well-known high school athlete, but he couldn’t pursue any of the offers he got along those lines. He had to take care of his mother and her sisters. So, he started as a clerk in the Acme. He prided himself that you could come to his counter, and he would add up all the prices in his head–this was before there were machines to do it.

“He started making bouquets of flowers to sell in the store. And from that, he built up a business as a wholesaler florist. He became a successful businessman, and created a life for his own family that was far different from the one he grew up with. He had a house at the shore, was a member of country clubs. We were very comfortable.

But he wouldn’t talk about his Irish roots.

It wasn’t until he was on his deathbed that McGee Burns was able to get a tiny clue from him about how to go about finding her family. He told her that all the relatives lived in Bridgeport: “Kathleen, every McGee in Bridgeport is related to you.”

By this time, McGee Burns was married and raising nine children of her own. And her nagging desire to acknowledge and embrace her own Irish-ness had been heightened during the dark days of the 1981 hunger strikes.

“There I was, watching Bobby Sands starve to death while my own son, Tony, who was the same age, was going to college in Chicago. I kept thinking about Mrs. Sands, how heartbroken she must have been…and how my own son was just starting his life.”

“My country, the country of my ancestors, still wasn’t free.”

McGee Burns began her journey. And her first step was to get out the phonebook and look up every McGee in Bridgeport. She sent a letter to each one of them. And she got the response she was looking for.

“Once I had enough information to trace my roots back to Donegal, I decided to join the Donegal Society. The first time I went to a meeting, I literally walked in as a stranger. They asked me who my sponsor was,” McGee Burns laughed. “I didn’t even know I needed a sponsor!”

But from that inauspicious beginning, she went on to become the first female president of the Donegal Society. And she continued on her path to discover exactly where she came from.

On a trip to Donegal about 10 or 12 years ago, a friend had a surprise for her. He told her, “I found someone who can help you find your roots. We have an appointment with him at Gallagher’s Hotel in Letterkenny at 1:00.”

Kathy won’t forget that moment: “A man came walking towards me. He looked just like my brother. He said, ‘Hi, my name is Hughie McGee. Does that name sound familiar to you?’ Well, my brother, my uncle, my nephew, my grandfather and my great-grandfather were all Hughie McGees. We sat down and did a study of our families. We both had a great-great grandfather named Cornelius McGee. His Cornelius McGee married a Kate Cannon; mine married a Kate Brogan. We had all these similarities, but couldn’t pinpoint where our families intersected.”

It wasn’t until this past summer that DNA was able to accomplish what a paper trail had failed to do: prove beyond a doubt that these two McGee families are closely related. The McGees from Gweedore, County Donegal, donated their DNA for comparison with McGee Burns’ own brother Hughie, and with the results, a once lost heritage was reclaimed.

The circle will be made complete on March 13, when Hughie McGee, his brother Paul McGee and wife Noreen, and nephew Paul McCool and wife Roisin join Kathy McGee Burns and her family, including her brother Hughie, in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade.

“Someone has been directing this from somewhere–either from up above, or down below,” McGee Burns laughed. “But the feeling I will have as I march up that aisle to address the congregation at St. Patrick’s Church for the parade Mass will be for every McGee and every Callahan that came before me.

“I represent a culmination of all their dreams, hopes and wishes. We are all going to be in that Church together. And I’ll be saying ‘thank you’ to all my Donegal ancestors.”

News, People

Aon Sceal

John Byrne Band: Free tickets for the "unwaged."

When John Byrne was growing up in Ireland in the late 1980s and early 1990s, it was common to see two sets of ticket prices listed for a concert or play: regular and “unwaged.”

“That’s a nice way of describing Ireland’s half a million unemployed, and this in a country of only four and half million,” says Bryne, a Dublin transplant to Philadelphia whose “John Byrne Band” has gathered critical acclaim with the release of its first CD, “After the Wake,” in 2010.

When he returned home late last year, he was walking into the Abbey Theater and found that he had gone back in time—there, again, were the special ticket prices for the “unwaged.” The unemployed were also welcomed—for free—into Whelan’s a live music venue on Dublin’s south side.

“It made me sad, but at the same time I loved it,” says Byrne, who has been in the studio recording his second CD. “It’s a true example of people just doing what they can to help others. Giving folks who are struggling to make ends meet, living on unemployment or welfare, tickets to a show isn’t really solving anything—it’s just providing something pleasant, a comfort at a time when comfort has had to be sacrificed.”

So if you’re unemployed and looking for a little comfort, Byrne and friend Jay Januzzi from the group Citizen’s Band Radio have 50 tickets available to their February 26 show at World Café Live where Byrne will debut two tracks from his upcoming CD. All you have to do is contact Byrne through his website.

Music To Remember Tommy By

Musician, radio host, and beloved fixture of Philadelphia’s Irish community, Tommy Moffitt, gave a concert every January at the Holy Family Home in South Philadelphia. Moffitt died last May, but his memory—and the music—will live on this Saturday as a group of musicians, singers and dancers gather to continue the musical tradition.

On the bill: the Vince Gallagher Band (Gallagher played with Moffitt and hosts the WTMR 800 AM Sunday Irish radio show that preceded his), plus singers Mairead Conley, the reigning Mid-Atlantic and Philadelphia Rose of Tralee; Jocelyn McGillian, last year’s Rose; Tommy Curtis, and Mae Roney. The Cara-McDade Dancers will also perform. Tommy Moffitt’s daughters will be on hand with photos from their father’s life.

While the show is for residents, the Little Sisters of the Poor, who run the home, are opening the doors to the public. Holy Family Home is at 5300 Chester Avenue, in Philadelphia. “Anyone who wants to celebrate his legacy or spend some time with the residents is welcome to come,” says Conley, who organized the event, which begins at 2 PM.

And big news about our Rose: She was just selected one of the Irish Echo’s “40 Under 40,” which honors young people from the Irish community who have made significant contributions. In the past, other Philly-region folks have made the list, including attorney and musician Theresa Flanagan Murtagh, Rose of Tralee director Sarah Conaghan, and Irish Immigration Center Executive Director Siohban Lyons.

Stolen Car His Lifeline

His car wasn’t going to win any beauty prizes, but George Lees’s rusty, trusty two-door 1991 Buick Skylark was his lifeline. Lees’, a longtime member of AOH Division #87 and its 2008 Man of the Year, has cerebral palsy. His car was equipped with hand controls and a bench seat that made it easy for him to get in and out.

His “lifeline” was stolen this week from Belgrade Street near his home in Port Richmond and Lees, who is on permanent disability from his 24-year job at Sun Oil, doesn’t have the money to replace it.

If you have any information about the car, call the 24th police district at 215-686-3240.

Arts, Columns, How to Be Irish in Philly, Music, People

How to Be Irish in Philly This Week

Blackthorn once again puts its Celtic rock power behind a fundraiser, this Saturday for Archbishop Ryan’s Alumni Association. It’s normally a sell-out crowd, so check our calendar for contact info and make those calls now.

Also on Saturday, Enter the Haggis will be at the World Café Live. Extremely popular Celtic rock band from Canada, so again, make those calls now.

Spring Hill House Concerts is hosting multi-talented Grey Larsen (fiddle, tin whistle, concertina, and flute) and songwriter-guitarist Cindy Kallet in this intimate venue. You may have heard the duo on National Public Radio—now you can hear them in someone’s livingroom.

On Sunday, a real treat: piper Jerry O’Sullivan, one of the masters, will be performing at the Coatesville Cultural Society. He was recently in town with Mick Moloney for the annual concert to benefit St. Malachy’s School in North Philadelphia.

On Sunday afternoon, join Philadelphia’s Derry Society at a mass of remembrance for those who lost their lives on January 30, 1972, in Derry during the incident now called “Bloody Sunday” when British paratroopers fired on a largely peaceful crowd of protesters. The killings sparked years of violent conflict in Northern Ireland.

If you’re looking for a little music with your lunch on Wednesday, stop by the Irish Immigration Center in Upper Darby: the remarkable accordian player Kevin McGillian will be entertaining with his son John. You’ll have to RSVP because space is limited, so check our calendar for info.

On Friday, get ready to laugh your kilt off with The Irish Comedy Tour, coming to the Sellersville Theatre, and featuring Detroit native Derek Richards, Boston’s own Mike McCarthy, and Dubliner Keith Aherne. We saw another combination of comics when the tour came here last year and they were a hoot.

The Martin McDonagh play, “A Skull in Connemara,” continues its run this week at St. Stephen’s Theatre in Philadelphia. The run has been extended to February 13.

Arts, News, People

The Bogside Murals: Derry’s History in Art

The Bogside artists, Tom and William Kelly, and Kevin Hasson, in front of the original "Death of Innocence" mural in Derry.

This year, Derry was named the first ever UK City of Culture for 2013, a “precious gift for the peacemakers,” in Northern Ireland, said British Prime Minister David Cameron when announcing the award last July .

Derry’s bid, of course, made note of its many cultural contributions to the world, from musician Phil Coulter to Nobel Prize-winning poet Seamus Heaney, but it also frankly acknowledged its tragic history as the birthplace of “the troubles” in the late 1960s.

Nearly 40 years ago this Sunday, simmering tensions boiled to the surface when British soldiers opened fire on a largely peaceful crowd of protestors marching through the city’s Roman Catholic Bogside section, killing 13 people, most of them teenaged boys, and wounding 13 others. The event, which came to be known as “Bloody Sunday,” marked the beginning of decades of armed conflict that largely ended after the so-called “Good Friday Agreement” in 1998 that dissolved direct London rule of Northern Ireland.

Last year, in releasing what is known as the Saville Report on the incident, Cameron became the first British government official to admit that the shootings were “unjustified and unjustifiable,” though none of the troops involved have ever been charged with any crime.

The Derry proposal opens with the lines from a Heaney poem that reflects both the city’s violent past and optimism for the future:

“So hope for a great sea change
On the far side of revenge
Believe that a farther shore is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles and cures and healing wells.”

And in one place—the walls that line the length of Rossville Street in the Bogside—violent history co-exists with a hope for peace in the murals of the three men known collectively as the Bogside artists. Called “the most prominent political murals in the world,” the 12 large scale paintings, all done on dwellings with the permission of the homeowners, are the work of brothers Tom and William Kelly, and friend, Kevin Hasson, all Bogside natives, who started the art project in 1993. The mural that greets you when you enter what the artists call “The People’s Gallery” is a black and white depiction of a boy in a gas mask called “The Petrol Bomber;” one of the last, the “peace mural” in color, featuring a Picasso-like dove on a backdrop of colored squares.

We recently talked to artist Tom Kelly by phone from the Bogside Artists Studio behind the Bogside Inn in Derry.

What was your purpose in painting the murals?

We were acutely aware that a lot of the artists in Ireland, both north and south, were not really dealing with the issues going on on our doorsteps. Most murals tend to be one side or the other. We wanted to bring something artistic into the whole mural arena and create a cathartic experience, a human document that would tell the story of the Bogside and Derry and 40 years of conflict. By looking at it and examining it, we thought that maybe we could move on from it. When you take something and put it into the light, it loses its power.

You all went to art school?

Yes. I spent a year in art college at Jordanstown University and was dissatisfied with the direction the tutors were trying to take us. . . .The idea that a pile of stones on the floor with a dead fish on top was supposed to be the meaning of life, that whole thing I just couldn’t take anymore. So I dropped out. Or maybe I dropped in.

Is that why the murals are done in such a realistic style?

Yes, it’s not about intellectualizing. We could easily have done all that, gone on the conceptual trip. But if good art is about communication, then why write a letter to your grandmother in Greek when you know she doesn’t speak it?

You painted the earliest ones like the Petrol bomber, the Bloody Sunday mural, Civil Rights, the Rioter —most of which are in black and white—while the conflict was still going on. Was that dangerous?

We were all listed for execution, put on a hit list of the UVF [Ulster Volunteer Force, a loyalist paramilitary group]. Most artists would have packed their bags and left. But once we knew we had the support of the people of the Bogside, we went back continually, year after year, to paint the story. We felt we were re-appropriating our story from the British media and telling it for ourselves. We felt very muc like we were commissioned by the community, and the people still support us and them today.

How did you get permission to paint on the walls—aren’t they’re people’s houses for the most part?

We painted them on 12 large gable walls there so we needed the support of the poople. Most murals in the North were put up by paramilitary groups—they would appear overnight on a gable wall and people who lived there were too afraid to pull it down. We went to people, showed them the image, and we were not funded by the government. The donations from local families are what enabled us to hire scaffolding and pay for paint. And we three artists painted them ourselves. And the truth is, it was quite a gas doing the murals. People would come by and talk about things they otherwise might not talk about. Sometimes they would bring tea and scone bread.

Why did you decide to do murals instead of regular-sized paintings?

We’re all small, under 5’7”, it might be a psychological thing. [laughter]

Do you actually conceive the ideas for the murals together?

We spend a lot of time prior to painting a mural getting the right questions together. It’s a bit of hard work really, design work. We like classical design, and it’s the simplicity of the images that’s important to us. We’ve seen murals everywhere and it might sound conceited but most of them suffer from clutteritis. They say too much with the wall space. They tend to be very colorful, but what it’s saying is less important. Though we’re three very different people there’s tremendous harmony among us. We sing from the same songsheet when it comes to murals, art and sculpture

Do you have a favorite of the murals?

That would have to be “Death of Innocence,” the mural of the young girl.

I read somewhere that you knew this young woman whom you’ve portrayed wearing her school uniform with a broken gun to her right and a butterfly above her head. And that you added the broken gun and butterfly much later.

She’s Annette McGavigan, a full cousin of Kevin’s and a good friend of mine. It was the only mural we did where we deliberately left it unfinished. At the time, we couldn’t see any possibility of reconciliation and peace. We said we would finish the mural, breaking the gun in half and showing the butterfly in all its color and energy, when guns no longer killed children.

Tell me about Annette.

She lived in my same street and was interested in art like myself. She was 14 years in 1971. She was sent out by her teacher to gather materials for a still life and there was a skirmish in the street. In the 1970s the soldiers fired plastic bullets. Annette was shot by a British soldier with two high velocity rounds to the back of the ear. She died in her school uniform, which we showed to represent all the kids who died, Irish, Protestant or Catholic. It made it clear—this beautiful child is juxtaposed with fragmentation and a crazy background reminiscent of a bomb explosion. There were these two young boys killed by the IRA in Warrington near London—Jonathan Ball and Tim Parry-and we contacted their parents to ask them if it would be okay if Annette McGavigan could represent them too and they sent us a lovely letter agreeing.

When did you finish the mural?

We went back in 1997, the whole community turned out, including this young girl’s family, to watch us break the gun in half and finish the butterfly in color. We had never forseen it. We thought it would be like the Middle East, there would never be any real peace here.

The Bogside murals have become quite a tourist attraction in Derry. I understand you sort of bring them around the world too.

We get invitations from all over to give lectures and presentations and we have a traveling exhibition. We were invited to China and spent three days in Shenzhen and we did a large mural there for the Dafen Museum—quite a brave step, since it points out that there’s a need for freedom in art, which we actually wrote on the mural. That caused a bit of a stir. We did a version of our peace mural at the Smithsonian Folk Life Festival on the mall in Washington, DC, and we did an exhibition a few years ago at Villanova University. We’ve also done a series of murals at Hanover College (in Indiana), Georgia Southern University, the University of Wisconsin at Madison, and may be coming back to the US to do two or three at DePaul University in Chicago.

You know that Philadelphia is well known worldwide for its murals. We have more than 3,000, probably more than any city. Would you be willing to take a shot at one here?

We just need someone to invite us and pay our way.

I know you’re involved in a campaign now to get the city of Derry to provide lighting for the murals so they can be seen at night.

For its big 2013 celebration, the city is lighting the city walls, St. Columb’s Cathedral, the Apprentice Boys Hall and other key heritage sites, but the murals are staying in the dark. We’re asking people to sign a petition asking the city to provide spotlights. You can do it online at the petition site.

To commemorate Bloody Sunday, the Sons and Daughters of Derry–Philadelphia’s Derry Society–is sponsoring a Mass at the Irish Center, 6815 Emlen Street, Philadelphia,  on Sunday, January 30, at 3 PM.

You can see more photographs of the murals at the Bogside Artists’ website.

News, People

Hundreds in Philadelphia Mourn Michaela Harte McAreavey

Father John McNamee offers a eulogy for Michaela Harte McAreavey, whose photo is in the foreground.

Ciara McGorman carefully set the large wedding photo on an easel at the front of the chapel at the Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul in Philadelphia. It showed her friend and neighbor, Michaela Harte McAreavey, from the little village of Ballygawley, County Tyrone, Ireland, beaming and radiant, as only a bride can be, in her wedding dress.

The dress in which the 27-year-old teacher was buried this week.

Friends, family members, and representatives from the organizations Michaela Harte McAreavey loved so much—the Gaelic Athletic Association, the Tyrone Society, and the Rose of Tralee—gathered at the Sunday evening Mass, concelebrated by poet-priest Father John McNamee of Philadelphia with Father Gerard Burns, formerly of St. Cyril of Alexandria Parish in East Lansdowne and now a parish priest in County Mayo, Ireland.

Michaela Harte McAreavy, married on December 30, 2010 to noted Down footballer John McAreavy, was found brutally murdered on January 10 while on her honeymoon in the Indian Ocean nation of Mauritius. She had been strangled in their hotel room, apparently after surprising hotel employees who used a key card to enter the room to burglarize it. Five men have been charged in connection with the killing of the only daughter of popular Tyrone senior football manager, Mickey Harte. Michaela McAreavy was buried on January 17th after a funeral mass at St. Malachy’s Church near Ballygawley.

Father MacNamee, pastor emeritus of St. Malachy’s Church in North Philadelphia, opened his remarks with a sigh. “This is the week that was,” he said, noting it was also the week the death toll from cholera was rising in Haiti and in which a 9-year-old girl, Christina Green, granddaughter of former Phillies Manager Dallas Green, was killed in Tucson, Arizona, along with five others in a shooting that wounded Arizona Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords.

Christine Green had been featured in a book on babies born on September 11, 2001. “Her parents had her as a sign of hope to all us in time of sorrow,” said Father McNamee. She had been “as innocent and fragile and vulnerable as the beautiful Michaela,” he told the more than 200 mourners who lined the chapel pew. “Life is a terrible beauty, as Yeats called it.”

Michaela was also eulogized by Sean Breen, president of the Philadelphia Gaelic Athletic Association, Angela Mohan, coach of the Mairead Farrells Ladies Gaelic Football Club; Mairead Farrell footballer Orla Treacy, whose father, Mick, is a friend of the Hartes; and McGorman. Music—including a heartbreaking rendition of Sarah MacLachlan’s “In the Arms of an Angel”—was provided by Karen Boyce McCollum, who, like Michaela, was an International Rose of Tralee contestant, as well as Roisin McCormack and Raymond Coleman.

Father McNamee twice quoted Irish poet William Butler Yeats in his eulogy, reciting from “The Stolen Child””

“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”

“The world,” he said, “is both a beautiful place and a tragic place. . .and more full of weeping than we can understand.”

Click here to see photos from the mass.

Arts, People

Review: Inis Nua’s “Pumpgirl”

Playwright Abbie Spallen

Northern Irish playwright Abbie Spallen was explaining how “Pumpgirl,” her award-winning play now in a two-week run at Philadelphia’s Adrienne Theater, can explore gang rape, infidelity, physical abuse, and suicide, and yet still get laughs.

“It’s the Northern Irish sense of humor,” said Spallen, a native of Newry, County Down, who appeared on the spare stage after the January 13 performance of her play, which is being produced by the Inis Nua Theatre Company. “People outside of Northern Ireland go, ‘Wow. That’s really mental.’ But it’s much darker than other humor, and it’s cruel. I have a friend who had a cold sore and had just had surgery on her foot. She walked into a bar with her crutches and then had to go to the bathroom. When she got back someone at the bar said, “Oh look, it’s hopalong herpes head’ and he didn’t even know her. There really isn’t any respect.”

But it’s clear that Spallen respects her characters, from the eponymous “pumpgirl,” Sandra (Sara Gliko), who works at the local petrol station in a Northern Irish border town, to her “pure class” lover, Hammy (Harry Smith), a part-time stock car racer whose moniker “No Helmet,” suggests that brain injury may be at least partially responsible for his oafish behavior, to Sinead (Corinna Burns), his long-suffering wife to whom Spallen gives her best lines. (“Sinead is me if I’d stayed in Newry,” Spallen confessed.) When Hammy slinks into bed beside her, Sinead notes that his lower lip puckers when he snores, something she used to find endearing but now makes her want to “put the hatchet through his head.”

In her monologue to the audience, Sinead wonders aloud: “How’s that for a country-and-western song, Hammy? I could call it, ‘And I’m Praying for a Female Judge.’” Spallen actually wrote two verses for the song which she sang for the Thursday night audience.

To Spallen, these three characters, who tell their stories in monologues, are “outsiders” in a place with a long history of intolerance for the different. The pumpgirl, described by one local as walking “like John Wayne” and looking “like his horse,” is frequently asked if she’s a boy or girl. (Gliko, who would never be mistaken for a boy, does manage to pull off “butch.”) Though his stock car wins ought to make Hammy the hometown hero, his name is butchered at the awards ceremony and his best mates ridicule him. One, an ex-con brute nicknamed Shawshank, is never seen but is an evil presence who orchestrates the ultimate betrayal. Sinead, the wife, is the sharpest of the three, funny, feisty, and full of potential that’s been snuffed by marriage to a callous, womanizing idiot.

The play is taut, made so by Spallen’s intent to reveal all to the audience before the characters themselves know what is happening. Spallen worked with the actors and with director Tom Reing during rehearsals, so this production may hit its mark better than some productions of “Pumpgirl” around the country. And it does hit its mark—as well as leave one.

Inis Nua Theatre Company’s “Pumpgirl” by Abbie Spallen will run through January 23, at the Adrienne Theater, 2030 Sansom Street, Philadelphia. Go to
http://inisnuatheatre.ticketleap.com/pump-girl/ to order tickets. This play is one of eight Irish plays that make up Philadelphia’s first Irish Theater Festival. You can save 20% by ordering tickets to two or more plays at the website, http://www.theatrealliance.org/irish-theatre-mixtix .

Arts, News, People

“You Could Almost Feel the Sparks Crackling In the Air Around Her”

Melissa Lynch

Melissa Lynch

“When it’s over, I want to say all my life 
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
 if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
 or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”

~ Mary Oliver

Melissa Lynch wasn’t here long–she died in a car accident on December 30 at the age of 27–but no one would ever call her a visitor to this life. She grabbed it, embraced it, and, on occasion, frog-marched it where she wanted it to go.

A prolific actress—she appeared in more than 17 productions in Philadelphia—the Mayfair native was poised on the brink of her best year ever. She was engaged to be married on June 18 to William Seiler, a man, friends say, “she adored.” She had roles in four major plays, including one in which she was to play 8 different characters. Directors had started calling her. Even when she played smaller parts, reviewers couldn’t help taking note of her performances. In fact, said a college friend, Rebecca Godlove, “she could have a nonspeaking role in a play and still get noticed. In college, she played a mute child in a play and got rave reviews.”

Critics called her “dazzling,” “sparkling” and “luminous,” descriptions echoed by those who knew her, a powerful reminder of why actors have come to be called “stars.” But a reminder, too, that there are those among us who harbor an unquenchable inner light.

“She just radiates,” says Kathryn MacMillan who directed Lynch in her last play, the highly acclaimed production of Chekov’s “Uncle Vanya” for the Lantern Theatre Company. In fact, MacMillan says, she hesitated inviting Lynch to audition for the role she played, the “plain” Sonya, because Lynch was “too beautiful.

“She shone and there’s no dimming that and there’s no way I would want to,” said MacMillan. But MacMillan had seen Lynch play against type before—as the matted-haired, dirty invalid in Inis Nua Theatre Company’s production of “Bedbound,” a powerful work by Irish playwright Enda Walsh. “I could barely breathe all through that show, and yet through all the perfectly awful, disturbed misery, I found myself thinking, ‘she’s so amazing, she’s so amazing.’ For the first time I started to appreciate the range of things she could do. And I thought, if [Inis Nua artistic director] Tom Reing could make her ugly, why not?”

Her friend and frequent co-star, Doug Greene, who last appeared with Lynch in “The Duchess of Malfi” for the Philadelphia Artists’ Collective in September 2010, says that Lynch didn’t seek out the glamour roles, though they could have been hers for the asking. She was petite, with blue eyes and long blonde hair that she was perfectly willing to dye or hack if the character called for it. In “Bedbound” her face was smeared with sooty makeup and her usually sparkling teeth looked like a brush hadn’t been near them in a decade.

“She was a really beautiful girl and could have taken an easier road playing the beautiful girlfriend and wife, but she had a lot of depth as an actor and wasn’t satisfied just playing the girlfriend,” says Greene. Tellingly, though she was playing such a glamour role in “Duchess,” what reviewers saw in her portrayal of the conniving mistress of a Cardinal was “evil.”

But off stage, the only thing wicked about Melissa Lynch, her friends and colleagues say, was her sense of humor. “The first thing she would want me to say was that she was hilariously funny,” says Jared Michael Delaney, assistant artistic director of the Inis Nua Theatre Company, which produces modern plays from the UK and Ireland. “She had a really wicked and sharp sense of humor that could at times be terribly crude and at times incredibly clever.”

When her co-stars recall a performance with Lynch, it’s always marked by the memory of a recurring joke, usually made at their expense. Brian McCann, who played Lynch’s father in the poignant, violent, demanding play “Bedbound” last year, says she cracked him up before every performance when she would turn to him and mutter, “Now don’t f— this up for me.”

The other thing they recall is an outsized personality. “She was loud. She was opinionated. She loved to laugh and cause a scene. She could be as proper or as unladylike as you could imagine, depending on her mood,” her Clarion College classmate Rebecca Godlove wrote on her blog shortly after Lynch’s death.

And there was magic: “The girl was so passionate about everything you could almost feel the sparks crackling in the air around her,” Godlove wrote.

“I spent most of my time with her laughing and having a good time,” says Greene. “She was effervescent—and I don’t know too many people I would describe as effervescent. She had that ‘life of the party’ personality.”

She was also a true and loyal friend, a rare find in a world—the theater—that can be competitive, even cutthroat, and soul-crushing. “She was everything you want a friend to be—deeply loyal, but someone who would always tell you the truth, what you needed to hear whether you wanted to hear it or not,” says Delaney.

Many of those friends repaid that loyalty by waiting for hours on a cold winter evening in a line that stretched outside the Wetzel and Son Funeral Home in Rockledge and around the block, just to express their sorrow to Lynch’s family—father, Michael, mother, Madeline, and siblings Tina, Michael, Joseph and Theresa, and Lynch’s fiancé, Bill. And they were there the next day, at the gravesite in Whitemarsh Memorial Park in Horsham, where they joined her brother Joe in an impromptu and tearful version of “Danny Boy.”

Those who knew her as a friend admit that it’s been difficult coming to grips with the sudden finality of her death. “I’ve lost a lot of family members but this is the first friend,” says Delaney. “This is a new kind of grief for me personally.”

Those who knew her as a colleague, a co-star, or a character struggle with other feelings: Who will replace her? “To work with her is to love her instantaneously,” says MacMillan. “There are people who just saw her on stage and feel this loss. I know lots of actors who were looking forward to working with her. After ‘Uncle Vanya’ she came up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders and said, ‘I f’n love you. Can we do this again soon?’ And I said, ‘Yes, as soon as possible, please!’ I was so filled with the potential for this new friendship and a new collaborative relationship that I feel something important has been stolen from me, something that I wanted really bad.”

A remarkable, generous actress, Melissa Lynch was above all dedicated to her craft, one she chose as a child after seeing an ad for auditions for a local community theater. She starred in several musicals while she was a student at St. Hubert’s Catholic High School for Girls and in 25 productions while she was an acting major at Clarion.

“In school, most actors portrayed different intensities of themselves,” says Godlove. “Not Melissa. She had these moments of introspect when she was finding a character and it was magic. She could play anything and anyone. My last play in college was [Shakespeare’s] Henry V and the cast was almost all female. Melissa played Henry V and I played her comedic foil, her loyal Welsh sidekick who hated the Irish which was ironic since she played so many Irish roles. Watching her, you forgot she was a woman. You didn’t look at her and think, ‘that’s a girl playing a King.’ You thought, ‘that’s the young Henry V.”

Though she made it look seamless on stage, acting wasn’t effortless to Lynch. Inis Nua’s Tom Reing recalled her getting “crazed and panicked” by a part at first, “then she would see the humor in it and calm down.”

For her performance as a medical student in Inis Nua’s production of “Skin Deep,” by Paul Meade, Reing recalled, she had to jump rope while trying to memorize medical terms. “One day during rehearsals she came to me and said, very seriously, ‘Tom, I gotta talk to you.’ I thought she was going to tell me she got another gig with a bigger company, but she says, ‘I can’t jump rope.’ So she took the jump rope home and practiced memorizing her lines for that scene while jumping rope. I kept asking her about it and she said, ‘I’ll be ready for opening night, I’ll be ready for opening night.’ And she was.”

Lynch wasn’t above using the same methods that charmed critics and theater-goers to get what she wanted off stage either. Recalls Jared Delaney: “If she wanted something from you, you’d better do it. I wasn’t going to see her in her last play, ‘Uncle Vanya,’ because I don’t like the play and it’s 2-3 hours long. I told her, ‘Lynch, I’m sorry I can’t make it.’ She stood there looking at me, this tiny, beautiful blond girl. She put her hands on her hips and pointed at me and said, ‘You have to, I’m your girl.’”

He paused for a few seconds. “That’s why we’re dedicating the rest of our season to her,” he said softly. “She was our girl. And we loved her.”

See photos of Melissa Lynch both off-stage and on. Thanks to Doug Greene and the Lantern Theatre Company for their help in assembling these photos.