News, People, Photo Essays

Happy Redhead Days!

Courtney Vincent of Upper Dublin.

Courtney Vincent of Upper Dublin.

This weekend in the Dutch city of Breda, redheads from 80 countries will gather for Redhead Days, now an annual congruence of natural redheads that started unintentionally in 2005 when an artist, looking for models for paintings of redheads inspired by the redhead paintings of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Gustav Klimt, put an ad in the local newspaper.

From 150 gingers (he only needed 15), the festival has grown to more than 7,000 redheads of every hue, from strawberry blond to carrot red to copper to auburn. This weekend the international gingers will party, compare hair color, consult with hair and fashion experts, have their photos taken, and enjoy the exhibit called “Red Hot,” photographs of sexy red-haired men shot by British photographer Thomas Knight. (It’s in New York this week. Here’s a preview.)

I had my own redhead festival of sorts over the last six weeks, photographing redheads like Courtney Vincent, above, all over the Delaware Valley. You can see our Ginger Snaps here or below. (There’s text and more photos on our flickr site.)

Why such an interest in a hair color that occurs in just about two percent of the world population? Well, it’s just that. Red is rare. If you’re Irish or Scottish, you may find that hard to believe since there are more redheads in the Celtic population than most others. The statistics are conflicting and confusing, but in general about 12 percent of the Irish and 15 percent of Scots have red hair. By one estimate, as many as 80 percent of people carry the recessive gene for red hair, even if there are no redheads in their families. So that Internet rumor that circulates every few years that redheads are going to become extinct? Unlikely.

Redheads are like the original X-men—mutants. The hair color is caused by a series of mutations of the melanocortin 1 receptor (MC1R) gene, which acts as a switch between red and yellow pigments and black and brown pigment. (If you’re looking for yours, it’s on chromosome 16.) Because it’s a recessive gene, both parents need to carry it for you to have red hair.

But the trait isn’t limited to the Celts. Two of the earliest known redheads were a 43,000-year-old Neanderthal from Spain and a 50,000-year-old Neanderthal from Italy. There were redheads among the ancient Greeks, and the Romans encountered plenty of redheads when they were conquering southern and western Germany, where they still abound.

While largely a European phenomenon, random redheads are found in the Middle East, Central Asia, and in China. A tribe called the Udmurts, living in the Volga Basin in Russia, are the only non-western Europeans to have a high incidence of red hair (10 percent of the population).

No matter where they think they come from, all redheads share a common ancestry that can be traced back to a single Y-chromosomal haplogroupL R1b. What’s a haplogroup? Glad you asked. Think of it as like a big clan. And if you have red
hair, you’re part of it. Because it’s linked to a Y chromosome, the ancestor you all share is a man. (Possibly those Neanderthals mentioned above, but more recenly a Norwegian: recent studies suggest that Vikings may have been involved in the spread of red.)

There are a few other things you redhead share, besides the pale skin and freckles.

About those freckles. They’re just nature’s way of saying you’re at risk for skin cancer. Even worse, that MC1R gene predisposes you to melanoma, the most lethal of all the skin cancers. Harvard researchers found that along with red hair, the gene may make redheads more susceptible to the damaging effects of ultraviolet rays of the sun, in part by getting in the way of the cancer-protective effects of a tumor-suppressor gene called PTEN.

One thing that may protect you is your pain tolerance. You don’t have much. You may avoid getting a sunburn because studies show that redheads feel pain more acutely than people with other hair colors. You’re especially sensitive to the cold. Scientists believe that the ginger gene causes another gene that determines cold sensitivity to become overactive.

Anecdotal evidence—that’s just unconfirmed reports from the field—suggests that redheads may need more anesthetic when undergoing surgical or dental procedures. In one small study, a researcher gave electric shocks to women of many different hair colors (yes, that’s how they do it) and found that the redheads needed about 20 percent more anesthetic to dull the pain. Redheads also bruise more easily.

Do cold-sensitive redheads nevertheless have fiery tempers? That one’s just myth. So if you’ve been trying to pass off your frequent outbursts as “my redhead coming out,” you are now officially busted.

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Music, People

The Best of All Gigs

Sean Kennedy

Sean Kennedy

Sean Kennedy was a reluctant percussionist.

“I was a piano player. My mom and dad told me I had to play piano when I was young, starting in fourth grade.”

When he was in 8th grade at St. Catherine of Sienna School in Horsham, Archbishop Wood High School sent literature to the school recruiting prospective band members, and inviting them to a meeting.

“If it wasn’t for a persistent nun, I never would have gone to that meeting. She said, ‘you should go to this meeting. Take this flyer home to your parents and let them know.’ I never showed them the letter. The night of the meeting, late spring of 8th grade, the nun called. She said, ‘put your mother or your father on the phone,’ and 15 minutes later I was being driven over to the meeting.”

Which is how Kennedy wound up playing xylophone in the band—not a big stretch for a piano player.

Then, at one early practice, the snare drum line started to do its stuff.

“I had never heard live drums in my life. The moment the battery started banging out 16th notes, I could never forget that sound. I was standing looking from behind the xylophone, and I thought: Those guys are good. That’s when I got excited about being a drummer.”

Fast-forward about 25 years. Sean Kennedy is now a music teacher, instructor, director of the jazz band, and 6th grade band director at Sandy Run Middle School in Upper Dublin. He’s also an accomplished professional jazz musician and arranger, playing drums in the Sean J. Kennedy Quartet, which has opened for Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra at the Kimmel Center. He’s played with the Philly Pops Orchestra, and he’s accompanied numerous other groups, including the Philadelphia Boys Choir and Chorale. He’s recorded four CDs.

One more thing: Sean Kennedy is a quarter-finalist in the second annual music educator Grammy, a prize that offers a $10,000 honorarium for the winner.

“One of my students parents nominated me for it, Kennedy says. “About 7,000 people were nominated.” The Grammy folks contacted him, asked him to fill out online list of questions. He then moved on to the second level.

“The second level was more complicated. There were more questions, and they wanted videos. They wanted uncut videos of me teaching students, and they wanted to see the kids’ interactions. We put video camera in the back of the band room. They also wanted a video of me answering four or five questions. What do I do different from other people. What are my proudest moments, those kinds of things.”

Finally, they wanted video recordings of people talking on Kennedy’s behalf. One who responded was a professional singer, once a piano and flute player in the jazz band.

“She’s going to be a star. She was in West Side Story on a European tour, as Maria.”

Another was Marc Zumoff, Sixers play-by-play announcer. Kennedy taught his son. And it probably won’t hurt that he has connections with players in the Conan O’Brian band, who also submitted videos. “I’m friends with two of those guys.”

After that, another form, this one longer … and now he waits. Finalists are announced in September.

The experience seems to have been humbling, and affirming at the same time. Many teachers go through their entire careers, and might not hear this kind of feedback often.

“The coolest thing was how quickly all of these people responded. It’s really a cool thing. If I go no further in this Grammy process, I consider this gift. Even though people may not otherwise say it at time, it shows me that the job of teaching music is important.”

That Kennedy has wound up in such prestigious company is in large part due to the influence of his own music teachers, including Wood’s band director Gary Zimmaro.

Visit the studio attached to his home, and it’s easy to see that when they infected him with his passion for music, jazz particularly, they did a pretty good job of it.

Instruments and music memorabilia fill the crowded little space. In a place of prominence is five-piece drum set. Every other square inch of the room is cluttered with musical instruments. Cymbals are stacked up in one corner. A set of marimbas—like a xylophone, but a lot bigger—is off to one side of the room, partially covered by a plastic tarp. A shiny chrome snare drum is over on a shelf. Music books, many of them tattered, seem to fill in all the spaces between the instruments.

There’s a big poster of the famous—and infamous—jazz drummer buddy Rich hanging on one wall. Over the door is a picture of Kennedy with the gifted jazz trumpeter Maynard Ferguson.

Across the ceiling, where some people might have canister lights, Kennedy has lights shaped like drums.

Oh, yeah, those teachers of his got him good. They showed him that it was possible, even desirable, to be two things at once: a dedicated music educator and a professional musician.

“Probably toward the end of my sophomore year, I was really getting into the band. I was always the last one coming out of band practice. Ray Deeley, our drum guy, he played with Sinatra. Ray’s stories of real-life music, it really blew me away. I wanted to learn more about big band, bee-bop, everything.”

Other instrument instructors had the same background. They taught music. They played music. They told good stories about real-life gigs.

Kennedy distinctly recalls when he decided to be both an educator and a professional musician. “I was with the band, outside of the girls gym (at Archbishop Wood). We were getting ready to play at a pep rally. I said to myself, I want to do this, whatever ‘this’ is.”

He went on to earn his BS and MS in percussion at West Chester. He’s been an educator ever since, taking joy in those small “ah-ha” moments, realizing he’s gotten an important point across.

“Most of the kids are receptive to everything. They’re like blank slates. If I come in and say, let’s listen to Bach,’ and then I play the trumpet solo from ‘Penny Lane,’ they say, ‘Hey, that sounds like Bach.’ It’s great that a 12-year-old is putting these things together.

“Teaching music and playing music for me, there was never a distinct separation. Most of my early heroes did both. What a great gig. I was patterning my future after these guys. I figured, hey, they have a car, and they’re feeding their families, and it’s all with music. I’m very fortunate to live in two worlds. You really can’t get to0 much better than that in music-making.”

Arts, News

A New Look at the Easter Rising

terrible beautyAs World War I wore on, German zeppelin raids were making Nottingham in England’s East Midlands increasingly unsafe, so British Army Lt. Frederick Dietrichsen of the Sherwood Foresters Regiment sent his Irish wife to Dublin, along with their two children.

Dietrichsen, a lawyer in peacetime, was among the reinforcements sent to assist in putting down an armed insurrection in the same city. It was Wednesday morning, April 26, 2016, two days after a ragtag army of revolutionaries, led by a charismatic school teacher, Patrick Pearse, had launched what became known as the Easter Rising, the seminal event in Ireland’s long quest for independence from British rule.

Dietrichsen’s wife saw the troops marching up the street as they headed toward the Mount Street Bridge, a key entrance to the city, which was held by the rebels. Dietrichsen fell out for a brief, loving meeting with his wife and children, and then rejoined his men.

Less than an hour later, he was dead, one of the first British soldiers to be killed in the initial volley of shots from the volunteers, in what is now remembered as the Battle of Mount Street.

This was one of many poignant stories that riveted the attention of documentary director Keith Farrell and producer Dave Farrell as they conducted research for a new 90-minute docudrama, “A Terrible Beauty/ÁIille An Ufais,” which will have its world premiere September 6 at 6 p.m. at International House, just a few blocks from the University of Pennsylvania campus. The event is co-sponsored by the Irish Immigration Center , together with AOH Dennis Kelly, Division 1, Delaware County, and the Irish Easter Centennial Commemoration Committee.

The Farrells are not unfamiliar to Philadelphia audiences. Their recent film, “Death on the Railroad” shed new light on the suspicious circumstances surrounding the death of 57 Irish immigrants,who were working on a stretch of the Philadelphia and Columbia Railroad , near Malvern, in the autumn of 1832.

The new film takes a slightly different approach. It tells stories of the Rising from the perspective of the people who were there in Dublin during those bloody six days—the ill-fated Irish volunteers, British soldiers, and Dublin citizens.

“It became clear to me that to tell these stories, I would have to dramatize them,” says Keith Farrell, reached by phone from County Wicklow. “The characters speak to each other, and they speak to the camera as well. We see their actions in dramatic form. When the actors look at the camera, they’re speaking their actual words.”

Many of those stories paint a complex picture of people taken completely by surprise.

In a time of war, being dispatched to Dublin to put down a rebellion was probably the last thing Dietrichsen ever expected to have to do. He was far from alone.

“The British soldiers never expected to find themselves fighting on the streets of Dublin,” Farrell says. “They expected to be in France, fighting in the trenches. No one told them where they were going. To find yourself fighting in the second great city of the empire must have come as a shock.”

Everyday Dubliners caught in the crossfire were just as stunned, Farrell says—and in more than a few cases, outraged and completely unsupportive of the rebellion.

“The citizens of Dublin were not happy. Many had sons and husbands at war in the British army. (35,000 Irish soldiers serving with the British army would die in World War I.) They were getting separation allowances from the British government. When the Rising happened, they weren’t getting that money. All of the bakeries were closed. No one could get bread. The city was completely disrupted. No one could get to work, so no one had any money.

“There were huge numbers of civilian casualties in Dublin. (Many fell at the hands of the British. The worst atrocity occurred on Friday of that week, when soldiers of the South Staffordshire regiment murdered 15 innocent civilians on North King Street.) Dublin was devastated by the Rising. People said it looked like Ypres in Belgium. The citizens of Dublin paid a price. While it’s mythologized, it was really a difficult, dirty guerrilla war. I was like a mini-Stalingrad.”

Then there was the question of the volunteers themselves. “A lot of Irish Volunteers didn’t know there was going to be a rising. They thought they were just going out on maneuvers.”

After the battle began, Farrell says, the volunteers themselves were initially optimistic. That optimism didn’t last long. “I don’t think the leadership were optimistic. Even the ordinary guys realized pretty quickly that they didn’t stand a chance. They probably would have been proud that they held out six days.”

Farrell culled his stories from a variety of sources.

He found one particularly rich treasure trove. “Between 1930 and 1940, the Irish Army interviewed survivors of the Irish war of independence. That included British soldiers, members of the Royal Irish Constabulary, anyone who was involved. They transcribed them, and stored them in army archives.”

Obtaining access to an accounting of the North King Street massacre wasn’t easy. Decades after the fact, the report was sealed. Farrell filed a freedom of information act request to get the painful details released. The report had been shielded by a 100-year rule. “There I suddenly had access to accounts from Dubliners on the north side of the city, ordinary citizen accounts. Women who lost their sons, wives who lost their husbands.”

Farrell also tapped into the memories of two brothers who fought with the volunteers. “They fought together in the Battle of North King Street. As old men, they never talked about the war to their sons, but they left their accounts with other people.”

The story of the Rising, Farrell says, continues to resonate with the Irish. 1916, he says, was “a bit like your Battle of Bunker Hill. It was a loss for the rebels, but it was an iconic moment. It was the beginning of our war of independence, and that’s why it captures our imagination.”

The Irish audiences are completely aware of the complexity surrounding the events of those few bloody days in 1916, but some Americans might be surprised what they learn from this new film. They might not be aware of all of the back-stories—stories that can only be told by the people who were there.

“What I try to do is try to tell the human side. Even the ‘bad guy’ has a complicated background. There’s a tendency to make it all black and white. You can mythologize a lot. What I wanted to show was people affecting people affecting people. I don’t try to make a postscript to say whether it’s good or bad. I leave that up to the audience. ”


Siobhan Lyons, director of the Irish Immigration Center, has seen a sneak preview of the film, and she regards it as essential viewing.

“It’s a fantastic film. It’s really, really good. Even for, me, I feel like I know quite a bit about the Easter Rising. I know a lot about the politics, and the importance of the Rising, but I had never thought as much about the battles. You can still see bullet holes at the General Post Office (the epicenter of the revolt). You can just imagine the bullets flying. When you see it dramatized, you see what it really meant. It’s a must-see for anyone who calls themselves Irish in Philadelphia.”

Tickets are $50. They include an after-party at St. Declan’s Well on Walnut Street, with music by well-known local singer Marian Makins, who is putting together a playlist around 1916, together with flutist Paddy O’Neill. The new Irish Vice Consul Anna McGillicuddy will also be there.

 

A TERRIBLE BEAUTY… background to story. from Tile Films Ltd on Vimeo.

How to Be Irish in Philly

How To Be Irish in Philly This Week

Count on seeing lots of this.

Count on seeing lots of this.

We are quickly moving into the “all festivals, all the time” season and we’re starting with Brittingham’s annual festival on Sunday, featuring the Bogside Rogues, Jamison, Oliver McElhone, and the Bare Knuckle Boxers who will be playing under the tent—byo lawn chairs.

Next Friday you can see real boxers—from Ireland and Philly—duking it out at Cannstatter’s in Northeast Philly to kick off the three-day Irish Fest featuring
Jamison, Bogside Rogues, Belfast Connection, the Kilmaine Saints, the Sean Fleming Band, the Screaming Orphans, Celtic Connection, the Highland Rovers and the Fitzpatrick Irish Dancers. There will also be kids activities and Irish vendors.

Speaking of Jamison, they’re at Casey’s in North Wildwood on this Saturday night, with Slainte—Frank Daly and CJ Mills of Jamison—playing at Keenans’s in North Wildwood earlier in the evening. Speaking of Daly and Mills, they’re also known as American Paddy Productions and tickets to their American Celtic Christmas, in its third year, go on sale on September 1. Visit their website for information. Date: December 6, two shows, at Bensalem High School.

Also this Sunday, catch Blackthorn on the Beach at The Club at Diamond Beach in Wildwood.

On Thursday, one of my favorite groups comes to the Sellersville—Brother, the band featuring Digeridrew who plays the digeridoo, an Australian instrument that you won’t be seeing in any local school bands. He’s actually Drew Reid, son of local music promoter Bill Reid (East of the Hebrides, which is bringing you both the Brittingham’s and Northeast Philly Irish Fests). Not sure where he took lessons, but he’s mighty good at coaxing some tribal music out of that thing.

On Friday, catch rising star comic Mick Thomas at The Irish Center. Read our interview with him. Opening for him is Dennis Rooney. It’s sure to be an Irish—and funny—evening. Proceeds from the event go to the Save the Irish Center fund.

Also on Friday, the Young Dubliners headline the Delaware Irish Fest, along with Barleyjuice and Brother, at World Café Live at the Queen in Wilmington.

In addition to the Northeast Philly Irish Fest, there’s one in Mercer County, NJ, on Saturday, featuring the Bantry Boys, the Broken Shillelaghs, Caelic Mishap, and the Shanty’s on Saturday, with Ballycastle, Celtic Martins, Birmingham Six, and Jamison on Sunday.

There are more festivals the following week too, including the three-day Philadelphia Ceili Group Festival at the Irish Center, now in its 40th year.

Take a break from festival going on Saturday, September 6, to see a first US screening of “A Terrible Beauty,”  an Irish film about the Easter Rising of 1916, co-sponsored by the Irish Immigration Center,  the AOH Dennis Kelly Division 1, and the Irish Easter Rising Centennial Committee. The event is at International House, 3701 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. The proceeds from ticket  go to the Irish Immigration Center.  Go to their website for more information.

News, People

Our Rose Returns

Even her fellow passengers fell in love with Maria Walsh.

Even her fellow passengers fell in love with Maria Walsh.

Before Maria Walsh, the new International Rose of Tralee, showed up at the arrivals gate at Philadelphia Airport on Tuesday, her fellow passengers, seeing the crowd and the banners there to welcome her, stopped to give their own review of Philly’s Rose.

“She is truly a rose,” said one woman, who didn’t give her name. “I met her on the plane. She’s a sweetie!”

Another woman, who, with her husband and children, had just returned from an Irish holiday, had encountered the new Rose before. “We went into one town and when they found out we were from Philly they said, ‘Oh, that’s where the Rose of Tralee is from. She’s here,’” she said. “Everyone was very excited.”

But not as excited as the 30-some people who were waiting for Walsh, the first-ever International Rose of Tralee from the Philly Rose Center in its 12 years. When they spotted her—looking chic in her gray patterned dress and pearls and remarkably awake for someone with no sleep—they burst into cheers.

Walsh quickly pulled her crown out of her bag and maneuvered it onto her head, grinning from ear to ear. She thanked the crowd for coming, said she was “glad to finally be home,” and posed for photos with anyone who asked, including one woman she met on the plane.

Philly’s Rose, who was tied for first in all the betting parlors in Ireland from the moment she arrived there, was a first in other ways too. For one, she’s the only Philly Rose who’s had an Irish accent. Born in Boston, she moved to Ireland with her parents and siblings when she was seven, settling in Shrule, County Mayo. The immigration pattern comes naturally—her mother was also born in the US and moved back to Ireland with her parents; Walsh’s father is Irish-born. She moved to Philadelphia about three years ago.

She is also proud of the fact that she is a Pioneer—an Irish-based program for teetotalers. Walsh doesn’t drink. And she is apparently the first Rose with visible tattoos—three ladybugs on her neck that serve as a memorial to a cousin who died in a car crash and the phrase: “The trouble is, you think you have time” on her arm which she says, “reminds me to always carpe diem because you never know.”

And, as she announced to a reporter in Ireland, she is gay which, though the Irish press was all over it, is clearly a non-issue for her Philly-based fans who will be gathering on Saturday at St. Declan’s Well Pub and Restaurant, 3131 Walnut Street, in Philadelphia, a pub co-owned by the father of the 2012 Rose, Elizabeth Spellman, who accompanied Walsh to the Rose event in Tralee this year. The festivities start at noon and are open to the public.

As for Walsh, her plans for the day were simple. She was going to work. She’s studio manager for the fashion and lifestyle brand, Anthropologie, based at Philadelphia’s old Navy Yard. “I was supposed to be back on Monday so I think I’d better go to work and check in,” she said laughing.

View our photos of Maria’s arrival back in Philadelphia.

Arts, News, People

Get Ready to Laugh: Here Comes Mick Thomas

Comic Mick Thomas

Comic Mick Thomas

Mick Thomas is from a small town in County Wexford. “That’s in the southeast of Ireland. It’s the Florida of Ireland, except without the nice weather,” Mick told me as we chatted this week on the phone. I am already laughing, then he makes it worse. “It’s 20 degrees out and people flock to the beach. [Insert high-pitched heavily accented voice here] ‘Oh God, it’s lovely out.’”

Thomas, who now lives on Long Island, is a staple on the New York comedy scene, opening for comedy greats like Colin Quinn, Dom Irrera, Louis Anderson, and the late Greg Giraldo; performing with Jerry Stiller and Christopher Lloyd; and headlining clubs like McGuire’s Comedy Club (where he recorded his first CD, Live at McGuire’s), the Comic Strip, and the Governor’s Comedy Club, among others. He also provides the comic relief on the Celtic Thunder cruises.

He’ll be appearing next Friday night, September 5, at The Irish Center, with fellow Long Island comic Dennis Rooney opening for him. It’s a fundraiser for the Center, which has fallen on hard financial times. Thomas says he likes helping causes, especially if he knows ahead of time what they are. He got burned once.

“I never say no to worthy causes,” he says. “But I once did a gig in the Hamptons before I found out what the cause was. They were raising money to hire people to scrape barnacles off their yachts. I was genuinely angry. I made fun of them for an hour and all they did was laugh. ‘Do you not understand that people are dying of cancer and I’m raising money for you to hire Mexicans to scrape barnacles off your yachts?’”

Thomas, who moved to America 10 years ago “to marry one of your women,” says that he wasn’t the funniest guy in Wexford by far. He gives that accolade to his two brothers, neither of whom does it for a living. “The two funniest people in the world are my two brothers.” They—and the rest of his family and friends back in Wexford—are also his toughest audience.

“I went back to Ireland for a tour and did a theater in my hometown and I bombed horribly,” he recalls ruefully. “Family, friends, the local people—they won’t give it up to ya. They’re out there, ‘We paid for this? We know all these stories.’ Eventually, people are shouting out the ending. ‘And you spent the rest of your life in jail. We get it. Yer wasting valuable drinking time.’”

But Thomas says he’s pretty much hardened to the effects bombing on stage. Before he became a stand-up, he was a four-time Ireland professional kickboxing champion and the European kickboxing champion. “I’ve never had any phobia about bombing on stage. I once got knocked out in front of 7,000 people. That was embarrassing. If somebody doesn’t like a joke, who gives a crap?”

He was more than knocked out. Over the nearly 10 years he spent in the kickboxing ring (starting at 16 and while also working as a banker) he was seriously injured. “If you look carefully at me, my left eye closes more than the right. My smile is crooked from a broken jaw. And I only have one kidney now too.”

That, I observed, isn’t visible. “Oh, I don’t know,” he retorts. “’Ye’ve got a weird walk on ye—ye must be a one-kidney guy.’”

When he followed his then girlfriend, now wife, Kelly, to New York 10 years ago, he decided to follow his other passion for making people laugh. “I went to a comedy class where I learned all about the business. You can’t learn to be funny. You either are or you aren’t. But it was helpful businesswise.”

He also caught the eye of Jon Starr, the actor-writer known for his role in “The Adventures of Tintin” and “Date Night.” “He took me under his wing and I started with a seven-minute set and slowly built it up, adding material, till I had an hour.”

Thomas started doing open mikes, then began getting booked for money, opening for the headliners. Lately, he’s been the headliner. He’s also done TV, including Live at the Gotham. He recently auditioned for another show that could provide a huge break—but we can’t go there yet. “I don’t want to jinx it, but they liked me,” he says.

But it was that audition where he learned something he sort of knew—that he can “get away with a lot more than the average person,” in part because of his accent and in part because, “even though I’m very honest, my comedy isn’t malicious, it doesn’t come from a hurtful place. And I’m the always the victim of my story, even when it’s about my kids.”

For example, he does a bit on going to see his daughter’s first dance recital. “She was up there for six minutes and she was by herself doing a solo—that’s what solo means–and she was dancing, and I welled up and got teary-eyed and I’m not afraid admit I realized. . .that I had wasted so much money on these dance lessons. She was absolutely shite. She was terrible, really bad at dancin’. And I’ve seen some bad dancin’. I’ve been to strip clubs in Chernobyl. Just awful dancin’.”

You can watch the bit here.

He laughs when I bring up the bit, which I loved. “It happened again,” he tells me. “I picked her up from karate this week and watched for a while and thought, jeeze, she’s terrible. But of course I said, ‘good, honey, keep at it you’re doing great.’ She has no coordination, good God. She gets that from her mother. But really, how many parents are on the sidelines thinking that?”

Show of hands?

Many comics today measure their success by whether they get their own sitcom. While he wouldn’t turn it down, Thomas says his passion was, is, and always will be standing in front of a live audience, making them laugh. “It goes back to when I was a kid, when I was five. I remember allmy family members saying, ‘oh, he’s funny’ and I thought this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, make people laugh for a living. Of course, I didn’t know what ‘for a living’ meant. I thought it as like an episode of ‘Bob the Builder’ and the doctor made the same money as the baker and my role would be to be the funny one. I didn’t understand ‘pay scale.’”

You can see Mick Thomas and also help raise money to scrape the barnacles off the Irish Center on Friday, September 5, starting at 7 PM. Tickets are $25 and are available at the door.

Music

A Night of Music and Laughs

A tartan dinner jacket is just the thing when you're singing "Donald, Where's Your Trewsers."

A tartan dinner jacket is just the thing when you’re singing “Donald, Where’s Your Trewsers.”

He’s billed as the “Happy Man.” That’s the name of the song that rocketed Cahal Dunne to the top of the heap in the 1979 Eurovision Song Contest.

On Sunday night, the Cork native brought his show to the Philadelphia Irish Center for a night of tunes and G-rated jokes. With his white grand piano perched upon a temporary stage, he held court in the Irish Club’s Fireside Room for close to three hours.

Dunne is well-known for his charm, wit, expert piano playing, and superb voice–and he has an established following.

More than 70 of his fans filled the room, with even more perched at the bar. it’s pretty tight. There wasn’t a moment when he didn’t hold that audience in the palm of his hand, singing old Irish standards, Broadway tunes, and even ’50s doo-wop. He played for laughs (and got them), when he donned a tartan dinner jacket, and sang about a wayward kilt-wearing Scot (“Donald, Where’s Your Trewsers). Even more laughs for a tune of his own composition, “Here Comes Menopause.” More than a few of the ladies fanned themselves with their programs as he sang it.

The fans had plenty of chances to join in on sing-a-long songs, and later in the evening, they danced.

In short, a very big night for the Irish Center and its continuing fund-raising effort, emceed by Marianne MacDonald.

How to Be Irish in Philly

How to Be Irish in Philly This Week

Wa-hoo!

Wa-hoo!

If you’re hankering for an Irish festival this weekend, you’re in luck. There are two! And even more to come!

On Saturday, go to St. Patrick’s Church in Norristown and join them for their 21st annual Irish Festival, featuring ceili music and dancing (thanks to Tom McHugh, Kevin and Jimmy McGillian), homemade food, and fun, all for $3 (which you get back in food tickets). We have a map to St. Patrick’s on our calendar.

On Sunday you can head out to Tabora Farm and Orchard in Chalfont. Patricia Torrice, a first-generation American, has imported the McLean Avenue Band direct from Ireland and matched them up with the Fitzpatrick School of Irish Dance and the Loch Rannock Pipe Band for a day of Irish music, food, and frivolity. Kids under 2 are free—and there are lots of kids activities—and admission for everyone else is only $5. You can find a map on our calendar.

And if you want to feel especially holy, there are two special Masses on Sunday: St. Patrick’s Church Mass of the Golden Rose in Norristown at noon, and at 2:30 PM at the Irish Center, the annual Lady of Knock Mass, followed by a dinner, sponsored by the Mayo Association of Philadelphia. (Word to the wise: The Mayos will behave during Mass, but at the dinner, watch out—these are party animals. You may want to lie and say your family comes from Mayo just so you can join up. )

Also this weekend: Jamison is at Keenan’s in North Wildwood on Saturday, while The Broken Shillelaghs are at Tucker’s Pub in Wildwood and the Shantys are at the Anglesea Pub in North Wildwood. It will be possible to see all three groups if you hustle.

Also on Sunday, join all the dancers at McGillicuddy’s in Upper Darby where they’ll be moving and grooving to the Theresa Flanagan Band.

On Sunday, Jamison heads to Shenanigan’s in Sea Isle City.

You know we’re quickly approaching the only time outside of March when the Irish events come fast and furious—September, the halfway to St. Patrick’s Day month.

There’s a night of comedy with Mick Thomas on September 5, and on September 6, a screening of an important new film about the 1916 Rising, called “A Terrible Beauty,” which will be held at International House Philadelphia, and is jointly sponsored by the Irish Immigration Center, AOH Dennis Kelly Div. 1, and the Irish Easter Rising Centennial Commemoration Committee. Also that weekend, an Irish Festival at Canstatters featuring Irish boxing along with music. Following that: The Philadelphia Ceili Group Festival, Quizzo fundraiser on September 19 at the Irish Center (September 11-13), Brittingham’s Irish Festival, Irish Weekend in N. Wildwood, and Bethlehem’s Celtic Classic. I’m going away for a week in September. I must be nuts. Or smart.