It is now more than 5 years since the death on 20 Sept. 1970 of Leo Rowsome whose name was, and still is, practically synonymous with the Uilleann pipes, yet so vividly has his image survived in the public memory that it is almost as if he were still alive – and this despite the rise to fame of a new generation of great pipers.

For at least 40 years, until age and ill health had begun to take their toll of memory and reflexes, he was the exponent par excellence of a free, flowing style which, despite criticisms of the purists, was authentic in its own way and left an indelible mark on contemporary Irish music in general and on piping in particular. With his instrument invariably in perfect tune he was ever and always the consummate showman who looked and played the part of a great musician. Everywhere he went he added glamour to his unique, most expressive and truly native instrument which has been enshrined in the national consciousness as a living link with the old, historic Irish nation of pre-famine days.

He was one of the last of that very small band of Uilleann pipe makers and his skill in reed making and in tuning pipes was unrivalled. His head was stored with the traditional lore of his father and grandfather and of the Cash and Byrne families and to this knowledge was added the experience of a lifetime backed by outstanding manual dexterity, eyes like a hawk, a keen, analytical brain and a most retentive memory.

Shortly before his death he had undertaken to train young pupils in the art of pipe and reed making and tuning. To the piping fraternity his sudden death was a veritable calamity, which however has since, to a great extent, been overcome by the work of Na Píobairí Uilleann (NPU), formed some 3 years previously, of which he was a founder member and a joint patron with Séamus Ennis. This world-wide association is confined entirely to pipers and its object is to form a bond between the numerically small and widely dispersed exponents of the art so as to pool their knowledge and resources and make generally available the technology of reed making, tuning, pipe-making, piping, recordings of old pipers, biographical notes, transcriptions of valuable tapes and the publication of a magazine. All this was work dear to his heart; he watched it grow and flourish and lent to it the encouragement of his great prestige.

Much of his extraordinary pre-eminence stems from the fact that in contrast to all other pipe-makers during the last three-quarters of a century he alone devoted his whole life-time solely to the Uilleann pipes (or the Union pipes as they were called up to and including his father’s time). Other great pipers and pipe makers came and went but to all of them the pipes was but a sideline or a hobby, whereas with Leo it was his whole life, and indeed for 50 long years he lived by the pipes alone.

Not many of the other pipe makers were also great pipers, for the simple reason that their work cut into their practicing time. Leo somehow continued to achieve phenomenal proficiency as a piper despite long hours at his father’s old treadle lathe and the time-consuming business of repairing and tuning derelict sets, making reeds, teaching some 5 nights a week and off on a long journey nearly every weekend to concert, feis or flead ceoil. He did however have one inestimable advantage in addition to his undoubted talent. He had the expert tuition, from a very tender age, of his father, Willie, and of his uncle Tom Rowsome. Also he and his brother Tom used to play together, each with one hand on the same chanter, as well as duets on two chanters, harmonising beautifully. As a child and growing boy Leo was always playing around his father’s workshop, trying his hand at small jobs, and by the time his father was stricken by his last illness he had already nearly mastered his trade. As he was dying Willie strove with desperate urgency to pass on the remainder of his knowledge to Leo, and his last words had to do with some obscure aspect of the intricate art of reed making.

Leo, still a mere boy, was now the family bread winner. He secured the position of teacher with the Dublin Pipers Club which about this time, consequent upon the death of Nicholas Markey, had become vacant. This gave rise to a certain amount of heart burning as some of the members were in favour of appointing Tom Rowsome. He carried on manfully however and the small stipend was useful for a couple of years until the Club broke up during the Civil War in 1924. In the meantime, overcoming tremendous difficulties, he resurrected his father’s pipe making business at Harold’s Cross and actually found time to make a new concert pitch pipes for himself which for quality of tone and brilliance was never equalled in its class in his life-time. The main stock was inclined to leak slightly and to remedy this he encased it in silver which ha had engraved with his name and the year. This glorious instrument, shining and resplendent and sounding like an organ, was for nearly 50 years an object of fascination for countless audiences and of veneration and almost superstitious awe for pipers.

The Sheer economic necessity of impressing audiences and getting engagements with subsequent orders for new sets compelled him to present his music in the most brilliant manner possible. He therefore gave less prominence to the finer points of staccato ornamentation, most of which would have been lost on a lay audience anyhow. He concentrated instead on letting the melody flow out, clearly and sweetly, controlling the tone by clever tricks of fingering and momentary raisings of the chanter, using just enough closed (staccato) fingering to impart the essential phrasing and to making the utmost use of the regulators. Indeed it was possibly the unequalled facility with which he manipulated the latter that was the most potent factor in gaining him wide recognition. Not all pipers, however, fully approved of his style, including some of those he surpassed in popularity.

Leo, like his father before him, never had an unkind word to say about anyone, least of all another piper. He just went on his own serene way, topping the bills, broadcasting, teaching, pipe making, and building up his business and reputation until it was worldwide and he was in demand for the most important functions on both sides of the Irish sea.

As to Rowsome’s standing as a piper there has been some controversy. In his later years, especially after a serious illness, it became fashionable to disparage his piping as too facile and flutelike. Now that he is dead and gone his records are being re-examined with new interest and there is a growing consensus of opinion that his is a case of “the greatness of his art conceals itself”. One of his severest critics, who is also an outstanding authority, remarked to the writer recently, “I think Rowsome will have to be re-evaluated”. Johnny Doran, one of the greatest pipers of all time, swore by Leo, and his brother Felix Doran put him at the top of the list. Willie Clancy admired his playing intensely and used to maintain that he was a lot better than he was given credit for. There must be few better qualified to judge him than these three, now all, alas, gone to their eternal reward. Of course the first two had their origins in the same school of piping as Leo, but Clancy’s background was that of the greatest school in the world, Clare and Galway, that produced such great pipers as Patsy Touhey and Garrett Barry. Willie Clancy, back in the late 40s played for some years in his Piper’s Quartette with Tommy Reck and Seán Seery and described to the writer how Leo used to select pieces for broadcasting programmes more or less at random with little regard for difficulty or popularity and then got down in earnest to serious practice. The Quartette would probably have been more brilliant with less labour if he had settled for a programme limited to “chestnuts”, but Leo took the rough with the smooth. In a more general context Leo’s renditions, while truly traditional, were also, from the viewpoint of the classical musician, wholly satisfactory as they conformed to the fundamental principles of musicianship.

After he had made his first record in which, of course, the regulators were very prominent, some of his critics maintained that he depended on the regulators to such an extent that he could not play without using them. It was to disprove this story that he made a record with the “Broadcast” label without touching the regulators, one of the tunes being “The Mountain Lark”, a reel. In my opinion this is the best 78 record he ever made, yet he had it withdrawn because, as he told me, “There are flaws in it that even you didn’t spot”.

Leo was fortunate in the girl he married, Helena Williams, a school teacher who, like himself, loved Irish music and the pipes. She is also (for she is still with us and teaching) a beautiful singer of Irish airs. She secured for him a happy, comfortable home and managed his affairs so that he had leisure to follow his vocation. They had four fine children. Leon, a vocational teacher, has his father’s old position of Uilleann pipes teacher in the Municipal College of Music, Dublin, makes pipes in his spare time and is rapidly building up an international reputation as a piper, appearing on TV programmes on both sides of the Atlantic. Liam is in the top rank of Irish fiddlers and can also hold his own at the Scottish music. Helena is a brilliant exponent of the tin whistle, and a very active member of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Eireann. Olivia, her twin sister, is an excellent pianist. One of Leon’s children, Kevin, is making good headway on the pipes – so there you have the fifth generation of Rowsome pipers.

The first time I saw Leo Rowsome was at a concert in Thurles in the late autumn of 1935. I had thought that on account of his great fame he must be an old or at least an elderly man and was agreeably surprised to discover that he was just a young man like myself and not the least bit puffed up by fame but simple, warm-hearted, jovial, happy, a fund of anecdotes and in general the very best of good company. We made a deal I which I traded my old pipes for a beautiful 16½? pipes that at one time had belonged to Liam Andrews. We became fast friends on that day and our friendship lasted until his death 35 years later. Until my marriage in 1938 I travelled generally once every week or fortnight to his class from such distant places as Tipperary, Carlow, Cavan and Clare. He was a first class teacher and succeeded in giving individual attention to upwards of 30 pupils, Many of them juveniles. He was always patient, never abusive, maintained good discipline and while he never pushed his pupils he managed to maintain progress. He never set standards higher than those of the individual pupils with the result most of them stayed on until they had achieved reasonable competence, and quite a few went on to become famous. He wrote out music for each pupil, very quickly, in a beautiful hand and these manuscripts are cherished now in many a collection. He was always a stickler for correct settings, and his are surely the best.

For a good many years before his death he had occupied part of his spare time – what little of it there way – with writing out his own settings, which were the correct settings which came to him mostly through his father, from the old, long dead pipers of Wexford, Wicklow, Kilkenny, Kildare and that territory generally. It is hoped that his widow will get around to having this collection published as it would certainly be a boon, especially for pipers, who now have often to struggle with settings more suitable for fiddles and accordions.

Leo was at his glorious best when heard broadcasting live over the radio (the Director of music for some unknown reason would never allow him to be recorded). These programmes were listened to avidly by his numerous fans. Only two of the “78” records approached the broadcasts in quality. The originals of the present LP were most disappointing and I well recall Leo listening to one of them and the pained expression on his face, which was all the more so because he was always inclined to be optimistic and see the best side of everything.

Leo was one of my best friends and as I write old memories keep crowding in. What I have written is only a small fraction of what I could tell about a great and a good man. Also, what I have written is not intended to be dogmatic or to be the last word. Others have still a lot to say about Leo Rowsome and it is safe to predict that for generations to come he will be the topic of many a discussion. He lived a happy, useful, busy life. He died as he would have wished, in harness as it were, adjudicating at a musical festival. He had been a good father, a faithful husband and a genuine Christian. His friends were legion and his funeral was in all but name a State funeral with a huge attendance including all sorts of unexpected and unlikely people attending. What a pity a book of condolences was not opened. At his graveside on Tuesday 22 September 1970 the oration was delivered by Labhrás Ó Murchú, President of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann, and Leo’s old friend and neighbour, Dan Dowd, piper, played the “Lament for the Death of Staker Wallis”.

Seán McAloon (1923-1998) became interested in Irish traditional music at an early age in his home place of Altawalk near Roslea in Co. Fermanagh. Indeed, music was to become his abiding passion throughout his life. Seán is best remembered as a piper but he was at least as keen on the fiddle as he was on the pipes and it is a tribute to his musicianship that he managed to play both instruments with equal aptitude for the duration of his musical career. He took up the fiddle in 1937, a year or two before he left school, and was self-taught, although he used to occasionally visit Owen Connolly, an elderly fiddle player who lived a mile or two across the border in Co. Monaghan. Like many another of his generation, Seán became enchanted with the recordings of the great Sligo fiddle player, Michael Coleman. He listened to these recordings all his life and, for Seán, Coleman was the musical genius par excellence. He collected every record Coleman made, studied them all in fine detail and modeled his own style of fiddle playing exclusively on that of Coleman. Such was his determination to learn a particular set of tunes from one of Coleman’s records that he spent a whole evening turning the turntable of a gramaphone with his finger as the spring had gone. I remember him telling me that he made a visit to Coleman’s home place in Knockgrania in 1946, approximately a year after Coleman’s death. He met with one of Coleman’s sisters on the same trip and he also met P. J. McDermott of Bunanadden, Co Sligo, who is commemorated in Coleman’s 1922 recording of McDermott’s Hornpipe.

The first piper Seán heard playing live was Tommy O’Rourke from Lisnaskea, Co. Fermanagh. He was a member of a céilí band called The King’s Band which used to play in a hall close to where Seán lived. It was after hearing another Fermanagh piper play in the early 1940s, Phil Martin from Ballagh near Kilturk, that Seán decided to learn to play the uilleann pipes. He was about eighteen years old at this time. Phil Martin was well known throughout the country, he regularly broadcast from Radio Éireann and he made a 78 rpm on the Regal Zonophone label in the 1930s. He also played a Stroh fiddle. Seán had heard Martin play on the radio and at concerts and dances although he did not get a chance to meet him personally. Eventually, James Doherty, a friend of Seán’s who played the fiddle, cycled one evening with him the twelve miles to Martin’s house. They were well received and Seán was greatly impressed with Martin’s piping. Seán recalled that Phil used to keep the pipes on a table as you entered the living room of the house. On another visit Martin gave Seán the address of the pipe-maker Tadhg Crowley in Cork from whom Seán acquired his practice set. When the pipes arrived he was immediately hooked, despite his frustration at the inadequacies of the particular chanter he got from Crowley. Seán duly learnt some tunes on the practice set and returned to visit Phil Martin again in the hope that he might be able to correct a fault with the reed. Shortly after he arrived, Phil’s brother Paddy handed Phil’s McCrone set, pitched in C, to Seán, and asked him to play them. It was a great experience for the young McAloon and one he often spoke about in later years. Unfortunately, Phil Martin died shortly after this visit and Seán was left without a teacher.

Nevertheless, Seán persevered on his own and made steady progress on the chanter. He listened regularly to the broadcasts of Leo Rowsome’s piping quartet on the radio and became spellbound by Leo’s bright and attractive style of playing. He also bought as many of Leo’s recordings as he could lay his hands on and he set about learning all that he could from them, just as he did with the recordings of Michael Coleman. Seán first met Leo in 1944 through the auspices of a Fermanagh man living in Dublin by the name of McManus who ran a public house on the quays. He knew Leo well and invited Seán to come to his home to meet Leo. Not surprisingly, Seán accepted the invitation and traveled to Dublin with a friend of his by the name of Murphy who played the fiddle and was a relative of Mr McManus. Leo played for about an hour or so and when he was invited to take a break for supper, he asked Seán to play his pipes. Needless to say, Seán was thrilled. Leo and Seán became firm friends, Seán bought a number of chanters and sets from him and he used to talk about how much he looked forward to getting a new reed from Leo through the post. Over the coming years, Seán was a frequent visitor to Leo’s house in Belton Park in Donnycarney. I understand that not many visitors to Leo’s house made it as far as the workshop, but Seán was among the chosen few. If I remember correctly, he was only in it once but he always spoke of this particular experience with awe, such was his admiration for Leo. Indeed, it appears that Leo held Seán in the same high regard and that he used to often speak of him in glowing terms.

In the 1940s and 50s Seán was in demand to play in house dances and concerts in his own area, often travelling many miles by bicycle as was the norm at the time. He particularly enjoyed playing in Clones, Co. Monaghan where there was great appreciation for traditional music in those days. He was a good friend of the Co. Dublin piper Jack Wade, a customs officer who was based in Clones from the early 1940s. In 1964 Seán moved to New York and stayed in lodgings in Brooklyn. He worked for American Machines, as did another Fermanagh piper, Tom Busby, and they met up on numerous occasions. Other musicians he got to know and played with during his year there were the great Co. Roscommon fiddle player Larry Redican, Louis Quinn from Co. Armagh, and Paddy Reynolds. Seán was also in contact with his old friend Mattie Connolly, from Scotstown, Co. Monaghan whom Seán had started on the pipes some years previously. One of the New York-based musicians Seán most admired, both as a person and as a player, was the legendary Sligo fiddle player Paddy Killoran. Seán had always held his recordings in high regard and he used to enjoy listening to his reminisces about Michael Coleman.

Following his time in New York Seán spent a year in Dublin where he worked in the building industry. He already knew the traditional music scene in Dublin as he was a frequent visitor there since the early 1940s. He regularly attended The Pipers’ Club in Thomas Street and he particularly enjoyed visiting John Kelly in his shop in Capel Street. It was there that he met Willie Clancy for the first time. John Kelly thought highly of Seán as a musician and they had a common interest in Coleman’s music. In September 1965 Seán moved to Belfast, living for a year with his sister before buying a house in St James’ Road. He played a lot of music at this stage at sessions and concerts and was a member of the Northern Province Céilí Band. One of his best friends in the city was Jack O’Rourke, a piper from Co. Leitrim who lived in Broadway. Seán did little playing in public after 1970, preferring to direct his energy to pipe-making and he approached this aspect of piping with the same dedication and commitment he displayed in his music making. He made a number of sets, mostly concert pitch, but he did make a small number of chanters and drones in C. He made wonderful reeds which were full of tone and richness. I was interested to learn that he learnt the basics of the art while he was living in Fermanagh from instructions he received through the post from a pipe-maker called Patsy Browne who lived in Boston. Seán’s friend Louis Quinn, who was living in the States, had asked Browne to send Seán the information.

Seán’s house in 95 St James’ Rd was a meeting-place, not only for pipers from Belfast and the surrounding area, but also for pipers from further afield who were passing through. It was always a pleasure to spend time in his company and he was very encouraging to younger players. Seán was totally selfless in sharing his time and his gifts with others. In his own quiet way he inspired and encouraged a generation of pipers in Belfast in the 1970s and 1980s through his great experience as a gifted musician and by his skill at maintaining, making and tuning pipes. His knowledge and appreciation of piping and fiddle playing was comprehensive and fastidious, and his instinct for a good tune was second to none. My father and I used to visit Seán at least once a week and I seldom left his home without having learnt something new about traditional music. It was an honour to have had him as a friend and a privilege to have benefited from his informed and astute insight into the world of Irish traditional music.

Neil Mulligan was born in Dublin into a family steeped in the traditional music of Co. Leitrim, and is the fourth generation to carry on this tradition. His father, Tom Mulligan, (1916-1984), was a renowned fiddle player and piper and first taught him the Uilleann pipes when he was 11 years of age. Neil was subsequently taught by Leo Rowsome and also came under the influence of Séamus Ennis, who was a long-standing friend of the Mulligan family. He has won all-Ireland titles at various age levels, has toured extensively throughout Europe and North America, and more recently, has represented Ireland at a number of international bagpipe festivals. He is a former chairman and founding member of Na Píobairí Uilleann.

The C# set of pipes he plays were made for his father by James Mulcrone of Co. Longford in 1938 – a set I had the pleasure of playing for a number of years. [He also plays] a flatter set . . . pitched in the key of B, and made by Alain Froment of Kenmare, Co. Kerry. As Tom Mulligan was such a great friend and musical partner of mine for so many years, I am delighted to see his son carrying on this fine piping tradition . . .

Tommy Reck, Dublin April 1991 (from sleeve notes to Neil Mulligan - Barr na Cúille)

Neil Mulligan’s father Tom first came to Dublin in 1935. He’d left a job shovelling coal from the Arigna train, the last of Ireland’s narrow gauge railways, onto that bound for Dublin. He arrived into a city caught between the Great Depression and what became known as The Emergency. The first jog Tom got barely covered his digs. Coming from a family of musicians Tom had a head full of music even if his pockets were empty and it was wandering the streets of Phibsborough one night that he first heard the music of the piper and pipe-maker, James Mulcrone, coming from an upstairs window. Through Mulcrone Tom Mulligan met other musicians; enduring friendships were formed with people like Tommy Reck and Séamus Ennis, and Tom, a fiddle player, bought a set of Mulcrone pipes. He married Kitty McMahon from Beale in Kerry, and they began a family.

The story of how Tom Mulligan met James Mulcrone and what followed is important. Important because Neil Mulligan’s music is very much steeped in what resulted from those associations. That and his father’s own musicianship! Every tune has a story, goes back to somebody who played it or composed it or remembered a snatch of it from somewhere else. Neil Mulligan’s music is unimaginable without his fierce knowledge of the tradition it springs from, whether that came from the playing of musicians like his first formal teacher, Leo Rowsome, or regular visitors to the Mulligan’s house like Tommy Reck and Paddy Bán Ó Broin, or guests who stayed longer like Séamus Ennis, already a legend even then.

It was Ennis who insisted that a musician spend seven years learning, seven years practicing and seven years playing before he described himself as a piper, and who looked upon the playing of music as a journey and an obligation. Ennis too influenced Neil’s attitude to the playing of airs. His insistence that the true authority lay in the original Gaelic, in an understanding of the sean-nós songs they came from. The singing of Seosamh Ó hÉanaí and Tom Phaidín Tom, amongst others, influences this piper’s music and those influences are fundamental.

Peter Woods (from sleeve notes to Neil Mulligan – An Tobar Glé)

The pattern was similar for the many people from all over the US and Ireland that had visited with Joe Shannon at his home over the years – a conversation first and then an invitation from Joe to hear you play. Any reluctance to play due to the visitor being a musician just starting out would soon dissipate when Joe would urge them on with "I’d like to hear you play because you might have a turn or a note or two that could catch my fancy". After that, Joe would bring out his massive Taylor set of pipes and, when he started playing, the walls in the kitchen (his favorite room to play the pipes in) would reverberate with the sounds of a hundred years ago – maintaining a link to the music of Tom Ennis and James Morrison, Leo Rowsome, and Patsy Touhey. Finishing up with some tea and maybe a sandwich or biscuit, the visitor was sent off at the door, often late at night, with a bone-crushing handshake, and urged to call again to come over for another night. One could still hear the music from those pipes all the way home.

Sadly, Joe Shannon passed away at the age of 88 from skin cancer, on the 26th of December, 2004 in Batavia, IL (45 miles west of Chicago) at his daughter’s home surrounded by his family. Slowed down by a broken hip only 18 months before that (after which, Patty and Tim Finegan opened their home to Joe and took on his primary care), Joe never complained once about his health or his own situation and was ever optimistic for the day that he would be able to return to his own home.

Joe Shannon was born in the village of Treenabontry, near Kiltimaugh, Co Mayo on January 1, 1916. Joe grew up around music as his six brothers all played music.

Joe emigrated with his mother and brother Tony to join the other brothers already established in Chicago (one brother, Tom, had already died in Austin, Texas; his father, Patrick, had passed away shortly after Joe was born, returning to Ireland in 1915 after working in the copper mines of Butte, Montana) in 1930. In Ireland, Joe used to play a bit on the whistle. Joe’s mother, Ellen, remembers young Joe waking up in the middle of the night and then asking for his whistle because he ‘had a tune in his head’. After playing, he would go back to sleep and would awaken with no memory of all that occurring!

With help from his brother and at the urging of Eddie Mullaney, Joe started on the uilleann pipes with a practice set from Pat Hennelly. On his own, Joe figured out how to get to the second octave and, with his 78rpm machine, listened to and learned the music of Tom Ennis, Patsy Touhey, and Leo Rowsome (all deservedly favorites of Joe).

Joe played at the Irish Village in 1934 for the summer and was lucky to meet retired Chicago Police Chief, Captain Francis O’Neill (he was 87 at the time, passing away only 18 months after that in January, 1936) who came backstage and asked Joe to play some hornpipes for him. When Joe was through, O’Neill inscribed one of his books to Joe with "To Joe Shannon – The Youngest Left Handed Player Since Patsy Touhey". The book was loaned out many years ago and, to Joe’s chagrin, never seen again.

Joe almost had a career in baseball but that was derailed by an injury to his throwing arm. From a 1940 Sheboygan, Wisconson newspaper, ‘During the 1938 season, Joe "Red" Shannon pitched for the (major league) White Sox batting practices during all of their home games, incidents which gave him his biggest thrill in baseball so far. The 1939 season saw him pitch (in the minors), winding up the season with a record of 11 victories out of 12 games, and included among his victories were a couple of on hit wins.’

Family responsibilities (Joe raised thirteen children) and the demands of his job (Joe was a Chicago fireman for 28 years, including 11 years driving an ambulance) reduced his playing opportunities. On occasion, Joe would play at the annual feis and various dances with his brother Pat and accordion player Joe Shanley. In the 1960s, box player Kevin Keegan asked Joe to play with him at a Comhaltas competition; they won. Clareman Paddy Looney would see Joe and tell him that Willie Clancy was asking for him in a letter (Paddy and his brother Tom helped Willie acquire two sets of pipes out of Chicago).

In the late 1960s, Eddie Mullaney presented Joe with the famous Taylor set of pipes that had been made for John Beatty at a cost of $500. The deluxe set of pipes, with its four-bore tenor and baritone regulators, was treasured by Eddie Mullaney and, in turn, by Joe. Joe never sought the limelight but would agree to a concert or an award in order to share those pipes (and his music) with the world. The presentation of the set reenergized Joe’s playing and his resolve in recreating the sound of Patsy Touhey.

Joe’s playing has been acknowledged over the years but none greater than being named a Patron of NPU, ‘an honor that I could never turn down’. Other highlights include his National Heritage Fellowship Award for master folk and traditional artists in 1983, a Heritage Award from the State of Illinois in 1989, invitations to perform and teach at the Willie Clancy Summer School in 1986 and 1988, Festival of American Folklife in Washington, D.C. in 1976, Cork Music Festival in 1991, National Folk Festival at Wolf Trap, Virginia in 1994, and the University of Chicago Folk Festival in 1985. Mick Moloney produced and recorded Joe Shannon and Johnny McGreevy, a lifelong friend, for the Green Linnet LP and cassette release THE NOONDAY FEAST.

Paddy Moloney invited Joe to join the Chieftains on stage and that led to over a half dozen appearances over the years. Liam O’Flynn also invited Joe to join him on the stage back in the early 1980s. Mick O'Brien organized some of his trips in order to spend some time over at Joe’s.

Pipemakers were very generous to Joe with their time and effort over the years. Joe was always grateful to Pat Hennelly, often arriving home after a late night visit (two buses and one streetcar) at 3am but delighted that his reeds were now working again. David Quinn, Michael MacHarg, and Alain Froment worked on his pipes and reeds, often accommodating a tight time scale to accomplish the work.

Many people of all musical backgrounds have been welcomed into Joe’s home over the years. In recent years, Sean Ryan, a student and protégé, organized some visits to Joe for some of the local musicians. Sean Folsom was the last out-of town musician to have that full visit with Joe.

More than one time, when one of his daughters would be coming home in the evening, they would be surprised to find their father quietly sitting in the living room. They would tell him that they swore that they could hear the pipes being played as they approached the house. Joe told them ‘that’s the way it is with pipers and that you’ll be hearing me playing the pipes even after I’m gone’. Definitely something to look forward to.

I first met Dave at a party in a flat on Dublin’s South Circular Road some time in the early seventies. He had heard me play a few tunes on the pipes and approached me to find out how he could obtain a set himself. I believe I directed him to Matt Kiernan and Dan O’Dowd. Dave subsequently struck up enduring relationships with both of those great men, but particularly with Dan, visiting him and Mae regularly on the Malahide Road and it was there that Dave began to develop his particular interest in reed-making. Shortly after I met him I discovered that Dave lived only around the corner from me in the Tenters and we encountered each other frequently in the neighbourhood and at the meetings of Na Píobairí Uilleann in Parnell Square.

Dave also pursued an interest in the history of the pipes around that time and this led him in 1980 to depart with Breandán Breathnach and Andy Conroy, two great friends of his, on a jaunt to the west of Ireland, seeking the trail of the famous pipers John Reilly and Johnny Gorman. Dave’s account of this expedition may be found in An Píobaire (2.8).

It was his interest in reed-making that prevailed, however, and the fruits of his investigations were eventually published by Na Píobairí Uilleann, initially in 1980 as Reedmaking Made Easy (with a second edition in 1983), and subsequently in an expanded exition in 1999 as The Uilleann Pipe Reedmaker’s Guidance Manual. This edition was financially assisted by NPU member Kevin Spencer’s wife Maureen, in memory of her recently-deceased husband, and the edition is dedicated to Kevin’s memory. In each case Dave declined to profit from the publications, donating the revenues from sales to furthering the activities of Na Píobairí Uilleann. More recently he extended this generosity further by agreeing that the manual should be made freely available to NPU members through our website.

For many years he has been a familiar feature of the Willie Clancy Summer School, presiding over the reed-making activities and providing instruction and encouragement to all who seek it and, on occasion, aid and comfort to distraught pipers. During the evenings he will inevitably be found in the company of musicians, sharing the crack, the stories and the music. Aren’t we lucky to have him?

Terry Moylan (An Píobaire 4.23)

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Seán Potts

Terry Moylan & Seán Óg Potts 

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Pat Mitchell

On one occasion, sometime in the early ’70s, Sean Reid commented ‘Pat, you play like an old man’. Noting the effect of his words on the famously volatile piper, Sean hastily explained ‘No, what I mean is, it should have taken you years and years to learn to play like that’. High praise for someone who started late and had been playing for less than ten years at the time! A taste of the playing that so astounded Sean may be heard on the recording he made for the Topic label, just a few years later, in 1976. By the time in question, Sean and Pat were old friends and Sean’s awareness of the total absence of Irish traditional music in Pat’s immediate background added to his sense of wonder. The compensating factors for the lack of an old-fashioned ‘traditional upbringing’ in Pat’s case were timing, with Traditional and ‘Folk’ music coming to public prominence as he came of age, along with his deep interest in music of all types.
Although living close to Bill Harte, the box player, and Larry Dillon of the famous music house in Monck Place in Phibsboro, Pat’s early, and minimal, exposure to Irish music came when the cottage he and his parents lived in was converted from gas lighting to electricity and a ‘wireless’ was acquired. This would have been around 1950 when he was seven. He clearly remembers hearing Leo Rowsome play “The Fox Chase” on Radio Éireann and being told by his parents, who had been friends of Sean Dempsey in their young days, that those were the uilleann pipes he was hearing. He didn’t get to see what this weird and wonderful instrument looked like till he came by chance at the age of 16 or 17 on a public performance on the bandstand in ‘The Hollow’ in the Phoenix Park in Dublin.
During the early teen years his main musical interest was listening to ‘classical’ music on BBC Radio 3 and the eclectic range of music broadcast on Voice of America – presumably in an attempt to subvert the Communist hordes of the USSR. By the later teen years his father, whose background was strongly republican, had given up singing the ‘rebel songs’ and occasional ballad of his youth. When the Clancy brothers’ songs started to appear on radio there was, as a result, a comfortably familiar feel to them. ‘Ballad concerts’ Pat attended would usually include traditional music acts ranging from The Dubliners to Nioclás Tóibín. At that time also, Seán Ó Riada was broadcasting and putting on concerts with Ceoltóirí Chualann. Their group playing was much more attractive and accessible to someone with Pat’s background in music than was that of, say, céilí bands. Through these he got his initial exposure to traditional music and song. Visits to the Fiddlers’ Club in Church Street and various fleadhanna cheóil provided a broader practical exposure while Breandán Breathnach’s Ceol magazine gave a captivating insight into aspects of the historical background.
A fascination with rhythm led to Pat’s first practical venture into the world of traditional music; he made a bodhrán – which to this day he still has, and occasionally thumps – and proceeded to terrorise musicians at the fleadhanna. Through visits to the Fiddlers’ Club he fell under the spell of the sounds being made by the young Finbar Furey, then playing on a low pitch chanter in the staccato style of Tommy Moore. Though still minimally familiar with the melodic side of the music he discerned similar sounds in the music of Séamus Ennis playing on the early RTÉ television programmes, and in that of  Willie Clancy playing “The Old Bush” on a Gael Linn ‘78’ which he bought.
A few months learning the whistle and a mention by his uncle Leo that Dinny Delaney, whom he had discovered through Ceol, was a great-grand uncle was sufficient to convince him that a bag and chanter would make the ideal 21st birthday gift from his parents. Along with Brian Gallahar, who had also acquired a Leo Rowsome practice chanter, he attended classes with Leo for a few months and, through regular visits to the National Library, embarked on the research into the music that continues to this day. Within the year both he and Brian had bought C chanters from Matt Kiernan. Listening to Matt and Dan O’Dowd play helped Pat interpret, and later emulate, the ‘piping triplets’ in Breathnach’s Ceol Rince I.
A key turning point in Pat’s piping career came through a chance meeting with Sean Reid at a fleadh in Ballinasloe in 1965. Through Sean, he met Breandán Breathnach, Willie Clancy and many other notables who were at the fleadh. A subsequent visit to Miltown Malbay led to a close friendship with Willie and a lasting respect and affection for both him and his music. Following up on an invitation from Breandán led not only to the acquisition of priceless recordings – a resource which was to be re-visited again and again over many years – but to a long-lasting friendship as well. Through that association with Breandán Pat was involved in the formation of Na Píobairí Uilleann in 1968. He was elected to the first committee and his association with the organisation continues.
An admirer of  Séamus Ennis’ playing for many years, Pat met him during the period in the late ’60s when he was making regular visits to the Royal Oak pub in Glasnevin. These occasions, along with Séamus’ annual Tionóil performances gave Pat the opportunity to study his technique at first hand.
1976 saw the research and practice of previous years bear fruit in the Topic recording mentioned previously along with the publication by Mercier Press of Pat’s edition of Willie Clancy’s repertoire, The Dance Music of Willie Clancy (subsequently re-published by Ossian). In the same year Pat was the leader of the piping contingent with the group chosen to represent Ireland at “Old Ways in the New World”, the Smithsonian Institute’s festival to mark the 200th anniversary of American independence. In the mid ’80s, in association with Jackie Small, he published The Piping of Patsy Touhey, a detailed examination and transcription of the great piper’s playing.
Over the years Pat has taken every opportunity possible to promote the beauty and musicality inherent in the good performance of traditional Irish music on the pipes. Along with his numerous piping classes and the two publications mentioned, he has contributed articles to An Píobaire, Dal gCais and the Sean Reid Society Journal and given numerous workshops and illustrated lectures, including the millennium lecture on piping at the Willie Clancy Summer School. He is at present working on The Music of Séamus Ennis, which will include detailed transcriptions and analysis of Ennis’ entire piping repertoire.  

Terry Moylan (An Píobaire, Vol 4, no. 34)