Charlie always brought us joy and magic

HOLY Cross Church in Crosshill was packed to the rafters for Charlie Devlin’s Requiem Mass, a sign of just how highly valued and deeply admired he was in a remarkable life.

Born on August 18, 1956, he was—first and foremost—a treasured member of the Devlin family. Beloved as a father and grandfather, brother and uncle, his greatest joy came from the family that he loved and who filled his time. Beyond his family, though, he made friends easily, and the throngs who came to pay their last respects to him were a sign of the impact he had in life. An army of friends surrounded him after he received his diagnosis of Motor Neurone Disease, and entered a new phase of his life. The guitar, which sat so comfortably in his hands for decades was the tool he used to

celebrate his culture, to raise funds and bring joy, but even without it Charlie remained Charlie. The guitar was only a tool. It was Charlie who made all those things happen.

In a life filled with music, song, travel and craic, it wasn’t the social elements of his life that best characterised Charlie, it was the way in which he—in everything he did—lived a life for others. In his working life he championed the vulnerable, and by his nature—open, generous, relaxed and exciting—he disarmed and encouraged as he stepped into spaces where others had fled or feared to tread. He truly changed lives.

In his association with HCPT and Lourdes he did the same, travelling with Group 140 and offering families a chance for respite and delivering a week of friendship, broadened horizons and unique fun for the children and young people who benefitted from his efforts. In the tight community of volunteers who drive the annual pilgrimages and who make the fundraising happen, he was a by-word. Known and loved in life, now greatly missed and treasured in memory.

He built deep connections with people and places. A regular visitor to Ireland, he had also made the island of Barra a home from home, where he was welcomed with open arms by a people and an island culture that resonated with him and made his assimilation into that world all the easier. In Castlebay his loss was deeply felt, and those unable to travel to Glasgow for his funeral gathered together to watch the service be streamed. The stream was followed in Azerbaijan too, in Baku of all places—somewhere Charlie became familiar, traveling there to play Celtic supporters’ functions and building yet more of the friendships that ordinary people simply don’t have.

Musical talents

A talented musician, Charlie added his own compositions to the culture through his time with the Mourne Mountain Ramblers. Their Celtic songs—from Charlie’s own pen—are still performed and covered in recordings to this day. Never one to puff himself up, Charlie nevertheless was proud to have been compared to Shane McGowan in his musical career. “He’s nothing like Shane McGowan,” was as Charlie pointed out, undoubtedly a comparison. That was enough for Big Peas.

His musical efforts also included his support for the Glasgow St Patrick’s Day Festival, playing regularly over the years at the Family Fun Day in Merchant Square—usually accompanied by his great pal Jim Connolly, one of the legion of friends left devastated by his death. It was typical of Charlie to be there as the Irish community of his native city were celebrating their culture. That musical tradition formed a huge part of his life.

A social force

As a social force Charlie was a phenomenon. He was supremely comfortable in that world. Playing music, singing, holding court and all but demanding shenanigans, he showed a great love of Celtic, Irish music and culture, his faith and the friends and family who provided the backdrop to everything he did. He was a bringer of joy.

A barman of his acquaintance once spoke admiringly of his prowess at the counter. Having served him two pints of Guinness one Friday evening, in that precious time that marks the transition between work and weekend, he asked conversationally who Charlie was with. “Just myself,” Charlie threw back, knowing full well the statement of intent his words were making, as he turned his back and tucked into one of his two pints.

Members of the Irish community all over Scotland have their own tales of Charlie. Some recognising his true kindness and care for others, others celebrating him as a prominent feature of our culture. Those memories will often be deeply personal ones, each showing a different part of Charlie and how his life enriched the lives of so many others.

I met my wife to the dulcet tones of Charlie Devlin. Talented and confident as he was performing, he wouldn’t be recognised by many as romantic mood music to help push two people off on a new journey together, but Charlie had a magic all of his own and my memory of that crucial night will always have the inimitable echo of Peas and Barley running as its soundtrack. I’m delighted that I will always have my own special memory of Charlie.

It would be fitting to use some of Charlie’s own words to describe him, from his song about Jimmy Johnstone—whose shared diagnosis of MND was not lost on Charlie, always feeling that he had something in common with the wee man.

“He brought us joy and magic... No doubt he was the finest that the world has ever seen.”

Rest in Peace, Charlie.