ENNIS FLEADH NUA - Comhaltas Archive

JIM LYNCH: MUSICIAN ANDPUPPETEER EXTRAORDINARYCaoimhghin b BrolchainIt seemed that I must be almost the only person at the Fleadh who did notknow Jim Lynch well - who had not travelled on a coach with him and had notales of lifting his pram on and off the vehicle , of suddenly rmding oneself in solecharge of the whole gazebo, pushing it either up hill or down centre of street. Notonly did everyone know him - from Fleadhs both sides of the water - but theycould, with certainty, tell me where he could be found. At this time 0' day, hewould be down at the Camping Site, getting his tent set up and his 'collection'organised.It was grand weather, buiochas leDia. It reminded me of - was it threeyears ago? - when we had anything likesunshine at the fleadh . At that time,people from the West were telling eachother that only once or twice a centurywould "the turf and the hay be savedbefore the Galway Races!" - to this listKerry people always added, " ... an' Corkbeat! !". Another formidable obstacleto all being right with the world. Downto the Camping Field with me to trylocating the great Jim whom all theworld but I knew well. Thus it was thatI found myself, hammer in hand, on myknees crawling around belting in pegs toerect the tent, whilst Jim directedoperations and midges with jaws onthem like Staffordshire Bull Terriers -a fearsome breed of biting dog -enveloped the two of us and ate lumpsout of us - or me at least, for Jimseemed strangely immune.At last we found a park benchwhere I could get some details down onpaper - rapid scribbles in betweenswatting those damned, carnivorousmilteogai. Would you believe it! J imLynch is the second great man to comefrom Ballyporeen - though I can't thisminute recall the other fella. The sizeof its spuds might have occasioned derisionin the old days, but this little Tipperarytown has made its mark and itsname known in the great world.J im came over to England in hisearly twenties, having left school at theage of twelve years. He followed a wellbeatentrack to Camden Town inLondon, where the practice was for twoor three young Irishmen to take a furnishedroom for 18/- a week . The'furnishings' were usually a single bed, adouble bed and not much else - but itwas at least a roof ove~ t.\le head untilbetter could be afforded. J,im joined aftrm which had an ambition to cover theworld in reinforced concrete floors andin helping them realise this strange aimhe travelled extensively over ftve or sixof the 'Home Counties'.'The Irishman Abroad' those times,would be easily recognisable - usuallyhe was well sunburned and healthylooking from his outdoor occupation,but almost as a uniform, there would bethe orange shoes and 'Irishman's Blue' -serge suit with the double-breastedjacket. Cafes in Camden Town werecheap - a good meal with stewed lamband 3 veg. and a sweet to follow wouldset you back l/7d. Pay was £2/13/1for the ftrst 50 hours and as much overtimeas you could wish. These weregreat times and Jim looks back fondlyto them - but then came the war. Theemphasis then was on buildingaerodromes and runways until 1943,when he was called up.He hated the initial 'squarebashing'at the camp in Colchester but thatdidn't prevent him from taking ascholarly interest in the area. "It was aRoman Camp one time - an' Boadicealaunched attacks on them there - tillshe was defeated ..... couldn't stand that..committed suicide ..." Jim is a mine ofinformation on any place he's been. Hepoured out facts historical and geographicalthat had me reeling. Did I knowthere was a church with no spire and asquare tower in some place calledBoston Stump in Lincolnshire? .. WellJim did, and I had difficulty in headinghim off that particular line of country ...He spent the last four months of thewar guarding German prisoners of warin Staffordshire.I could flll an entire TREOIR withfaSCinating stuff about Jim - for thesame man is well-read and scholarly to itdegree. Though he had left school soearly - such vestiges of Irish as hadbeen taught him, he still retains, nobother to him to say his prayers, makethe sign of the cross, ask you how youare, or tell you to shut your mouth orthe door, whichever might be most 'convaynient'at the time.He was a foreman for MacAlpinefor six years, then a foreman 'Chippy'for Taylor Woodrow . Ajoiner by trade,he had no apprenticeship other thanwhat he learned at school in Ballyporeen,but he worked on at least sixNuclear Power Stations - including theone in South Wales that is causingtrouble leaking and the divil knowswhat else . "I must have made some slipupthere!", said Jim with a grin.When he retired at the age of 65,his two children reared and settled inthe world - one son works in Hollandand has a great job at Doordrecht nearRotterdam on the Rhine - Jim began toftll up his spare time by attending nightclasses - "At one time, I was attendingftve classes a week!". These classescovered such unlikely topics as pottery,carving, violin-making, jewellry andbeaten metalwork, painting in oils,cookery and cake decoration. All ofthis at Wigan Technical College .Well, it wasn't long before thebould Jim was making his own instruments.Like myself, he has a great 'feel'for timber - he spoke lovingly of thebeautiful pieces of mahogany or redpine he had saved frbm the ruins ofsome old church being demolished. Hemade bodhrans, violins, guitars,hammer-du1cimars - you name it, Jim39