THE OLD ballroom in Drumshanbo was called the "Mayflower", which by the exaggerated standards of the genre, is a modest enough appellation. If you were choosing a floral name for a dancing establishment of that era, "Passion-flower" might have been a bit risqué. "Wall-flower" would have been harsh. Whereas, what with its hints of both spring fertility rites and Marian devotion, "Mayflower" was probably the ideal compromise, writes FRANK MCNALLY
Comparisons with the ship that carried the first settlers to the New World were presumably unintended. But in any case, the pilgrims who sailed in the former ballroom have long since gone forth and multiplied. The building is now a community centre. And as such it is almost certainly hosting some of the pilgrims’ offspring – or the offspring’s offspring – this week, for diversion of a different kind.
The recommissioned Mayflower is the hub of the Joe Mooney summer school, now in its 22nd year and clearly thriving. As well as hosting a nightly céilí, the ballroom is the location for some of the school’s 47 different classes: the dancing ones, naturally. In between the dance classes and céilithe, it hosts flute and fiddle recitals, at which teachers and their more promising students show their skills.
All human life is represented in the instrumental classes. Even at beginners’ level, students range from being barely out of nappies to being old enough that they used to frequent ballrooms and say words like “fab”. They come from all over, too. In my daughter’s fiddle class alone, there are a pair of Russians and a man named Fritz. The Japanese are scarce this year, but the United Nations is otherwise well covered.
Combined class attendance exceeds the normal population of the town, so the local infrastructure has been stretched to the limit. School venues include everything from the Mayflower (“fab”), to temporary extensions at the vocational school (“pre-fab”). Even the Methodist Church is hosting a class, in the pipes, aptly, albeit the uilleann rather than the organ variety.
The full family of traditional instruments is taught here: plus the mandolin, whose status as an orthodox session instrument is still being disputed by bearded holy men in Clare. This is an ecumenical gathering, however. Which is why both strains of accordion playing are represented: the button (preferred by fundamentalists) and the piano (sometimes frowned upon, on account of its high-decibel output).
Speaking of which, yes, the often-maligned bodhrán is also featured. This will be welcomed by the instrument’s more moderate critics, whose usual complaint is that too many people don’t bother to learn it before playing. A few zealots may still consider the drum an abomination, regardless. But most reasonable people will accept that bodhrán players are God’s children too, and entitled to a place in the choir, ideally, perhaps, not too close to the front.
The Joe Mooney Summer School is only one of Drumshanbo’s summer festivals, incidentally. The other one is An Tóstal, which was held in early June. And among other things, that event is interesting as a historical curiosity.
Older readers may remember that An Tóstal originated – way back in 1953 – as a national event. It was designed to showcase the culture of a still newly-independent Ireland, in the process attracting much-needed tourism. Unfortunately, the event was deliberately scheduled for April – the Irish “monsoon season” as Patrick Kavanagh put it. Furthermore, the official opening descended into a drunken riot. And the general cynicism of the exercise attracted the scorn not just of Kavanagh but of many other wits, including one in this newspaper.
Myles na gCopaleen’s best-known contribution was the name he gave to the flaming “Bowl of Light” erected for the occasion on Dublin’s O’Connell Bridge. “The Tomb of the Unknown Gurrier”, he called it (and gurriers may have been implicated in its ultimate fate, which was to be dumped into the Liffey). Less remembered is that another of Myles’s barbs forced his alter ego’s early retirement from the civil service, when his then minister recognised himself as the unnamed butt of a joke.
Anyway, An Tóstal survived as a national festival for a few years and then petered out. By the 1960s, only a handful of towns celebrated it. When Buttevant, Co Cork, gave up in 1965, Drumshanbo was left to to fly the flag alone.
There really was – and still is – a flag, hoisted wherever An Tóstal was celebrated. That it flew in the Leitrim town yet again this year is a tribute to the same Joe Mooney – councillor, senator, community organiser and Mr Drumshanbo – who was the force behind An Tóstal until his death in 1988, after which his wife Eva carried on the cause.
Mooney was known among other things for his dislike of alcohol. A teetotaller, he prided himself on Drumshanbo’s refusal to seek special bar exemptions for its festivals, even at the cost of revenue. And although the town’s pubs are central to the homework that many conscientious students are taking upon themselves after classes this week, there is very little drunkenness to be seen.
No doubt the fact that many people are here with children is a restraining factor. But it may be that there is a slightly puritanical streak in this town. If so, it must have come in with the Mayflower.