He could bring a smile to your face or a tear to your eye
Singer Christie Hennessy in Tralee, Co Kerry, where he was born
Singer-songwriter Christie Hennessy, who passed away last Tuesday, was a true gentleman in every sense of the word.
Tralee-born Christie had his dreams come true late in life - after a tough childhood in Kerry and an even tougher time in his 20s and 30s living and working in London.
But when success came knocking at his door in 1992 it all but kicked it down, and mild-mannered Christie embraced it wholeheartedly.
I had the pleasure of interviewing the man several times in the 1990s, and he always came across as genuine, trusting, happy and contented. He always had a smile on his face, a warm handshake and always, always remembered your name.
In fact once you had come inside his orbit, he treated you like a long lost friend.
His songs were poignant and heart-wrenching, yet strangely uplifting at the same time. For a man who could neither read nor write when he left school at 11, he had a magical way with words and with weaving a memorable melody as well.
Christie's mother asked the local gardai if he could leave school that early, as her husband was dead and she needed him to take a job to try to make ends meet for the family.
This he did for many years, before packing his bags and heading for London in his late teens -- realising that he was bound to earn more money there, which he could send home to his mother in Tralee.
Christie was to remain in London for the rest of his life, working on the building sites by day and playing music and writing songs by night. He released his first album, The Green Album, in 1972, but it failed to make any impression on the charts and it would be a long time before he'd make another record.
It looked like he was getting nowhere until he started to cause ripples in the music business in the early 1990s.
He was signed up after a gig in Whelan's bar in Dublin in 1992. It was an extraordinary twist of fate, as the country from which he had emigrated was now giving him his big break in the business. At the peak of his career, his followers spanned all generations, and despite a recent suggestion that he inhabited middle-of-the-road territory, nothing could have been further from the truth.
Christie had genuine rock credentials. He was also an accomplished drummer and actually played with guitar wizard Peter Green in an early line-up of what would eventually become Fleetwood Mac.
But if you scratched beneath the surface of his seemingly folk-lite songs, there was something deeper to be found. This was a man who had lived a tough life, but never lost sight of his dreams, or his sense of humour.
Christie was a simple man -- but not in every sense of the word. He never took his well-earned success for granted and appreciated everybody who helped him.
His songs could bring a tear to the eye but also a smile to the face of the most hardened cynic. He was a unique talent, and with his distinctive high-pitched voice, people either loved or hated him.
There really was no in-between ground with Christie.
I, for one, loved him and his songs -- everything from Messenger Boy to Roll Back The Clouds and Oh Jealous Heart.
And then there was the deceptively simplistic Don't Forget Your Shovel, which became a huge hit for his early mentor Christy Moore.
He just seemed so grateful for the success that had come his way -- but you also felt that he feared it could be snatched away from him at any minute.
Ironically, Don't Forget Your Shovel documented his time working on the building sites on London in the 1970s, a time when he obviously came into contact with the deadly asbestos -- which eventually killed him at the relatively young age of 62.
Others who covered his songs included Frances Black (All The Lies That You Told Me) and Clannad's Moya Bennan (Oh Jealous Heart).
Christie had been receiving chemotherapy in recent months, but bravely battled on to complete an album of duets he was recording with Christy Moore, Finbar Furey, Mary Black, Tommy Fleming, Paul Brady and Luka Bloom, among others.
According to medics, asbestosis can suddenly flare up 30 years on, and this is exactly what happened to Christie. But he remained cheerful to the end. When doctors told him he would no longer be able to walk any distance, he made a point of walking two miles every day. When they told him he could no longer climb stairs, he went up and down 10 flights daily.
The man's spirit was indomitable. Earlier this year he released a single for the 10th anniversary of the Children In Crossfire charity, after seeing first-hand the work they were doing for children in Africa.
The final duets album was being filmed by Celebrity Jigs and Reels director Bill Hughes and Christie was in so much pain towards the end he was on morphine patches. But he persevered nonetheless.
He was a devoted family man, with his daughter Hermione initially managing him and singing backing vocals in his band.
He is survived by his devoted wife of 42 years, Gill, daughters Hermione, 37, and Amber, 34, and son Tim, 21.
He always credited Gill with giving him the inspiration to follow his dreams. But whatever happened, it always came back to the simplicity of his songs and the vulnerable sound of his voice. In concert he would often stop a song to recount a humorous tale about what had inspired it in the first place.
In Messenger Boy he hinted at an affair with an older woman in Tralee when he actually worked as a delivery boy, and when he lived in London he would write songs for people at a fiver a go.
"They would mainly be for guys trying to impress some girl of other. They'd know a couple of chords so I'd write something for them for some special occasion," he revealed.
Christie reclaimed some of the songs later on, recording them for his own albums. He was signed to the small Sun label in the early 1990s by Dave Pennefather, and when music giant Warners came along offering Christie a big record deal, Dave didn't stand in his way.
He toured Ireland constantly after getting big breaks on the Late Late Show and several top radio programmes. They stayed friends and vowed to work together again and, sure enough, when the major deal eventually ran out, Christie returned to Dave.
His final album and a documentary on the making of it will be released next year - and should make a fitting tribute to a life less ordinary.
- Stephen Hill
