Danny Boy (5 page)

While the rain of bombshells and cannonballs failed to damage the walls, it ravaged buildings and snuffed out many lives. The brave women defenders injected themselves into the fray by heaving stones at attackers who attempted to scale the walls. George Walker did his best to preserve stability within the walls, posting a price list of meats in a place where the starving defenders devoured everything except each other:

Horse flesh: one shilling eight pence per pound.

Quarter of a dog: five shilling six pence.

(Fattened by eating the bodies of dead Irish)

Dog's head: two shillings six pence.

A cat: four shillings six pence.

A rat: one shilling.

A mouse: six pence.

A fish: Priceless.

Considering that a shilling amounted to a week's wages, that was an awful lot of money for a bit of flesh. Fever wiped out most of the children. It was estimated that the total mortality of the Siege of Derry numbered fifteen thousand people. After 105 days, the siege was lifted when the defenders were relieved by ships sailing up the river Foyle, and Derry, in the words of Captain Ashe, thanked “the lord who has preserved this city from the enemy. I hope he will always keep it to the Protestants.” God did for many years “keep it to the Protestants” with the help of odd laws and political gerrymandering, but today it is governed by a mostly nationalistic city council, and the name Derry has superseded the old name of Londonderry. In spite of that power shift, another enormous tragedy lay grinning in the dark, centuries later, awaiting the call to grisly duty.

On August 9th, 1971, the British government arrested 350 men suspected of IRA activities and on that day, the policy of internment without trial had begun. In a move designed to crush the IRA, anybody could be flung into the pokey on the suspicion of a senior police official. Mostly young Catholic men felt the brunt of this nefarious policy, and just six months after the policy was implemented, nearly 1,000 men had been jailed.

So it was that on Sunday, 30th January 1972, the NICRA (North Ireland Civil Rights Association) called for a massive demonstration in Derry, protesting the jail without trial policy. The government refused to issue a permit and banned the protest. The NICRA responded defiantly, stating that the protest would go forward, like it or not, and the government responded by putting men of the Parachute Regiment on duty to quell the prospective marchers. As a civil rights march, it emulated the strategies and tactics of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., used so effectively in the United States. The organizers were eager to protest in peace, even singing “We Shall Overcome.” The police were, for the most part, keeping things calm, but the paratroopers were a bit trigger-happy. Twenty thousand people assembled on that day and marched and sang with little resistance, except for a few rough encounters. But as the march was reaching its conclusion at around 4 p.m., the soldiers began shooting real bullets into the crowd, injuring a goodly group and killing thirteen males, seven of whom were under the age of eighteen. Lord Widgery, who presided over the official inquiry, noted that the shooting apparently bordered on the reckless, the usual bit of droll English understatement. Major Hubert O'Neill, the Derry coroner, concluded that the
young men were shot in the back and that the army had slaughtered innocent people. In his statement of August 21, 1973, he wrote, “I would say without hesitation that it was sheer, unadulterated murder.”

Once more, the flowers of Derry were dying. As Irish youths collapsed the pipes were calling for the Danny Boys who perished on Bloody Sunday. Nearly thirty years have passed since that fateful day in Irish history, and not a single person has been tried for the shooting of these innocent men in Derry.

 

T
o merely review the list of those who sang “Danny Boy,” the fiddlers who played it, the groups who performed it, or orchestras that trumpeted it, boggles the mind. Each year, it seems, another superb rendition joins a list that already includes the likes of Black 47, Harry Belafonte, Count Basie, Ruben Blades, Johnny Cash, Rosemary Clooney, Judy Collins, and Morton Downey Sr., to name but a few.

“Danny Boy” is unique in that people are willing to overlook a bad rendition if the singer is earnest and the moment is true. Take, for instance, the boxer, Jack Doyle, nicknamed “The Gorgeous Gael,” who gained the love and respect of the Irish in the 1930s when he fought for the British heavyweight title against Jack Peterson. Although Doyle was disqualified in the second round for committing a low blow, the flagrant foul failed to quell his popularity, even after his next fight when he was knocked out in the first round by Buddy Baer. Before long, Doyle
acquired a new, less flattering nickname, “Canvas Back Jack,” because he spent the majority of his time in the ring in the horizontal position.

What endeared fight fans and the Irish in general was Doyle's struggle to gain consciousness, when he would lumber to his feet and offer a bleary-eyed rendition of “Danny Boy” for his loyal fight fans. The sweet science had not yet taken its toll on Doyle's faculties. He wisely retired from boxing and married Movita, the Mexican starlet, and the two moved to England and embarked on a career as a singing act. A few years after their marriage, Doyle and Movita returned to Ireland, marrying again at St. Andrew's Catholic Church in Dublin in a firestorm of publicity that further elevated Doyle's status. However, in 1945, Movita left Doyle for Marlon Brando, and “The Gorgeous Gael” returned to London for a short-lived career as a wrestler before dying in poverty in 1978.

In the 1980s there was another Irish boxer, Barry McGuigan, (“The Clones Cyclone”) who ignited a sensation in Ireland when he fought for the featherweight championship in June of 1985. His opponent was Panamanian Eusebio Pedroza, who held the World Boxing Association's featherweight title for years, successfully defending it 19 straight times. The 23-year-old
McGuigan, despite fighting in the friendly confines of Loftus Road in England, was still considered a heavy underdog. Certain groups in Ireland had criticized the fighter for marrying a Protestant and applying for British citizenship in order to advance his boxing career. The
Republican News
, the Sinn Fein-Provisional IRA newspaper, ran a headline, “Barry the Brit,” castigating the fighter for pressing his own interests above those of his country. But McGuigan had always insisted that he was indeed fighting for the people of Ireland and not its politics. On the night of the Pedroza fight, he entered the ring bearing a neutral blue flag with a white dove of peace instead of either the tri-color or the Union Jack.

On this night, Ireland was united, and the scene at Loftus Road was every bit as electric as in pubs and gatherings across the British Isles. Following the Panamanian National Anthem, McGuigan's father Pat, a renowned Irish singer (also known by his stage name of Pat McGeehan), stepped into the ring and whipped the crowd into a frenzy with a passionate rendition of “Danny Boy.” The moment echoed one of the most powerful themes of the song itself, a parent seeing his son off to battle. The younger McGuigan heard the call of the pipes, and beat Pedroza in a magnificent fight, bringing the title belt home to Clones.
A Catholic from the north of Ireland had united his fans, Catholic and Protestant, in song.

There are ancient angers and rancorous raging in the north of Ireland, with each side watching with painful sensitivity, lest the other side get any kind of cultural foothold. Song, therefore, is important. At football games (soccer to many of you), between teams from the north and the south, when the anthems have played “God Save the Queen” for the northerners and “The Soldiers Song” for the southerners, jeering and violence often erupt. “God Save the Queen” has been under intense scrutiny lately in Northern Ireland because the song celebrates the British State. In many of these discussions, “Danny Boy” is considered the favorite to replace it because it is considered “non-sectarian.” So, it may be that when all these warring factions go to soccer games in the future, perhaps the melodious strains of the Derry air will soothe their agitated nerves. Maybe they will realize that it's just a game and not a bloody war which threatens all they hold dear. Why should anyone be surprised that “Danny Boy” has sparked debate in both the political and religious arenas? As recent as the summer of 2001, following the death of the beloved actor Carroll O'Connor (known to most as television's Archie Bunker), a funeral mass was held at St.
Paul the Apostle Catholic Church in Los Angeles, California, and over 1,000 friends and mourners turned out to pay their respects. Ending the ceremony, a violinist played a haunting rendition of “Danny Boy,” and not long afterward, certain Dioceses of the Catholic church sent out word that no song deemed “secular” could be performed during funeral services, under any circumstances.

Naturally, this astounded me. What makes music sacred? The emotion it arouses in people? If they can, with a swift three-beat, transform bread and wine into the body and blood, can't a song be declared sacred? Perhaps this is just the “official” statement of these Dioceses. Several cities with large Irish populations have had Catholic churches suddenly go deaf when “Danny Boy” is either sung or played at funerals, despite their stance on secular music.

Irish American reaction has been fairly heated. Some have complained that most “sacred” music is elitist, whilst “Danny Boy” is a blue-collar song for the middle class. As a song of the people, just about everybody thinks it belongs to them. You can't attend a Catholic mass anymore without hearing “Amazing Grace” or “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” As if those aren't Protestant hymns! Perhaps the Catholic church would do well to reexamine
the second verse, where Danny kneels and says “an Ave there for me.” Then perhaps, a debate on the meaning of the word “secular” can begin in earnest.

It's comforting, then, to know that our boy Danny shows no sign of “sleeping in peace.” In fact, he continues to wage new battles, despite the fact that the lyrics are nearly one hundred years old.

 

A
ny spirit that has been touched by magnanimous love or overwhelming loss hears “Danny Boy” with an understanding that no amount of research or theorizing can illuminate completely. Music is, as Fred Weatherly so elegantly explained, perhaps the most powerful of all art forms, just as open to interpretation as works gracing the walls of the Guggenheim Museum. The rise and fall of a voice bidding Danny farewell evokes something quite different in each person. For one it may be the melancholy call of a mother to her son, and to another, the lament of a girl's love, lost to a land that promises wealth and freedom. The beauty of the song is held within the heart of the listener. We can only know the truth behind the melodic tune and the deceivingly simple lyrics by listening with our minds open and willing, free of myth or conjecture.

While “Danny Boy” will always be touted as an
Irish ballad, it was truly the product of many different worlds meshing together. Let it be the tune of a blind, Irish fiddler drifting across the sea, reaching an English barrister who would finally marry words and melody to create a song capable of describing, at least in part, the contents of the human heart. The song depicts the human condition, about the unknown and the black cloud of finality that accompanies it. The message is available to all those who want to hear it. “Danny Boy” has a profound effect on people from all corners of the world, a trait it shares with the truest of any work of art.

I have had the pleasure myself of meeting and speaking with some of the great Irish contemporary artists and performers in the world. I've always been curious about their reactions to “Danny Boy,” the first time they heard the song or perhaps the most moving version they can recall.

Nobel Prize Winner Seamus Heaney is the poet responsible for penning breathtaking collections such as
Door into the Dark
, and
Preoccupations
, and the man some critics have described as “the most important Irish poet since Yeats.” Born in Derry, the oldest of nine children, the song has special meaning to Heaney. Here he offers his own insightful analysis of “Danny Boy”:

I
F YOU LOOK AT IT ON THE PAGE, THE SETTING AND THE DRAMATIC SITUATION ARE CONVENTIONAL, THE LANGUAGE FULL OF ROMANTIC CLICHÉ
. B
UT YOUR CRITICAL RESISTANCE SOON FADES WHEN THE SINGING BEGINS
. V
ERY FEW PEOPLE CAN HIT THE HIGH NOTES AT THE END, BUT AT THE BEGINNING
I
THINK NEARLY EVERYBODY CAN JOIN IN AND FEEL THEY'RE IN TUNE, SO THERE'S THAT COMMUNITY SINGING APPEAL
. I
T'S ONE OF THOSE SONGS, LIKE
“S
HENANDOA” AND
“T
HE
W
ATER IS
W
IDE,” WHERE THE HANKERING IN THE MUSIC IS AS POWERFUL AS THE HANKERING IN THE WORDS, SO YOU END UP WITH THIS BIG, BIG WAFT OF DESIRE AND NOSTAL GIA
. V
ERY SIMPLE DEVICES WORK VERY EFFECTIVELY
. Y
OU HAVE THE WORD PIPES REPEATED STRAIGHT AWAY IN THE FIRST LINE AND THAT IMMEDIATELY CREATES THE POIGNANT MOOD WHICH DEEPENS WHEN THE NOTE SLOWS AND LENGTHENS ITSELF OUT IN THE WORD “CALLING” AND ALL OF A SUDDEN EVERYTHING IS EVEN SADDER
. N
EXT THING THE SUMMER'S GONE AND THE LOVER'S BEING LEFT ALONE AND THE SORROW IS SURGING UP AND OVER US BUT NO MATTER, WE'RE ALL ENJOYING OURSELVES MORE THAN EVER BECAUSE IT'S SO SINGABLE, THE BIG RIPPLES JUST KEEP WIDENING OUT
.

To Thomas Cahill, bestselling author of
How the Irish Saved Civilization
, the success of the song “Danny Boy” lies more in the melody, although the words are a beautiful evocation of loss. He feels that the song is the story of a woman bidding the man that she loves farewell as he departs during the time of The Great Hunger. She realizes that she will likely starve to death before he can send money to her to procure food, and she will have left this earth before he returns, having made his fortune.

Actor Liam Neeson will often sing the ballad to his sons, Mikey who is six and Danny who is five. In order to eschew the tiny battles that can erupt from the jealousy of young siblings, Liam will change the words, ever so slightly, not allowing the lyrics to show preference of one boy over the other. So fond of the song is he that he once requested that Barbara Streisand perform while they sat, riding in the same limousine. Unfortunately, his request was refused. Had it been Mr. Tom Waites riding along with him in that car, the disappointment may have been a bit greater, as it is Waites's rendition of the song that he most especially enjoys. But make no mistake, he will delight in almost any good, full-blown sentimental interpretation of the song. Wherever in the world he may travel and musicians be present he will ask that Danny Boy be
played, sung or performed. Like most people, he does not know what the song means or what sad soul is having to say good bye to dear Danny, but it is of little concern to him, as it is one mystery that may remain unsolved as far as he's concerned.

The actress Roma Downey was raised in a working class area of Derry, the youngest of six children. As a Catholic, she was a minority in her hometown and often felt the sting of prejudice while negotiating the awkward stages of childhood. At the tender age of ten, Roma lost her mother to a sudden heart attack. As she grew she continued to be exposed to life's hardships. Her family bore witness to the horrific events of “Bloody Sunday,” the name given to that fateful day when a civil rights match ended in the death of thirteen innocent people, some of whom she had known personally. Her father died before having the opportunity to see Roma graduate from college, yet another heartache she endured. And so, like most, it was not hard for her to feel the pangs of loss and longing summoned by this song

For actor, director, producer, and author Gabriel Byrne, it is Sinead O'Connor's version of the ballad, arranged by Sean Davies, that holds a special place in his heart. “It's a perfect song,” he says, “and besides, Danny is
my father's name and I never hear it without being emotionally moved and remembering not alone my father but the history that stretches behind him.”

My brother, Frank McCourt, author of
Angela's Ashes
and '
Tis
, became quite familiar with the tune and words, growing up in Limerick. At any concert in town, 'twas certain that at least one singer would have a go at “Danny Boy.” Women cried, he remembered, and men got misty eyed. Tears that were somehow understood by all.

Frank believes “Danny Boy” to be a song of an emigrant with only a vestige of hope of a happy return. The Irish man who left the Emerald Isle behind was rarely seen again trekking across his native soil. And so the sadness of final goodbyes is woven quite clearly into the lyrics. One fall day, Frank walked along the streets of Brooklyn with his friend Herbert Miller. He remarked “the summer's gone and all the flowers are dying.” Miller turned to him, his face contorted in a grimace. Aghast, Miller declared, “that is a dreadful thing to say.” Frank's explanation that he was simply quoting the words to a famous song seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

And so, from glen to glen, we've finally come to the end of our journey. If you've made it this far, there's no need to sum up the bittersweet emotions embodied in
the song. I believe we can concur on that point. And, of course, you must be aware that a proper sendoff is certainly in order here.

So, once more, all together:

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 flowers are dying

It's you, it's you must go and I must bide
.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow

It's I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow

Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so!

And if ye come, and all the flow'rs are dying

If I am dead, as dead I well may be

Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying

And kneel and say an Ave there for me
.

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me

And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be For

For you will bend and tell me that you love me

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me
.