Paradiso. Where the Stars Dine! Pt.1.
There was more to being a medical student than just study although it didn't always seem that way. The constant stress of exams added to the often tragic aspects of the human condition made those years of one's life when most young people were having fun, grim. Fun, when you had no money could sometimes be just too expensive! Even more, when you had a fiancee and were planning to get married while still a student you had to do something to earn money.. Tuition fees were a constant concern in addition to exam anxiety and in those days, unlike today, a significant number of students failed out. Universities today are afraid of students and their lawyers. For many years I broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of failure and what it would mean. Even now I have the occasional nightmare that I am about to write my final medical examinations.
My fiancee, was a self taught, talented pianist and I was a self taught untalented drummer. She was in great demand at parties and family gatherings in our courting days, so I had to do something. I started off by tapping on the piano, in the hope that it would drive everyone away, so that we could have what was called some "quality time" together. ('Quality time" to me meant getting rid of the rest of the family long enough to burn off some of the normal testosterone that every young man had coursing through his veins). I continued drumming on every drummable surface, to the irritation of my family and friends. I never expected that it would later provide a means to help finance my way through medical school and to getting married.
A classmate of mine from high school days was a talented musician. He went on to become A very successful professional musician after having graduated from medical school. His mother had been a piano teacher, so he played piano almost from birth. Sometimes, when we were in high school, I went to his home to listen to him practicing a la Oscar Peterson. He had a drum kit in his music room and on occasion I would try to accompany him on the drums. He put up with my lack-lustre performance and even tried to improve it. He was well known in the Dublin music world, where he was much sought after. and he knew Irene and I were hoping to make some money doing a gig or two around town. He recommended us to apply for a job at the "Paradiso Restaurant and NightClub - Where the Stars Dine!" They had approached him but he was busy with bigger, better gigs. He had recommended us.
"There's no way I am good enough for that," I said.
He laughed. "They won't know the difference!" He was right!
I applied at the Paradiso and the manager-owner interviewed me.
"Experience?"
"Lots," I lied. "I thought Ian (my friend) would have told you."
"And the pianist?"
"Oh, she and her family have just returned from living in Miami (true). She did many gigs there (untrue). She's good!" (true)
"OK, Monday night is quiet. I'll hire you for a one night audition and if it goes well I'll give you a three month contract."
It went well. We got the gig at the Paradiso and played from eight pm to midnight five nights a week. Dublin was a renowned theatre city and some stars really did dine there.After the performance a number of stars and their entourage did stop by for food and drink. So it was often considerably later than midnight by the time we were out of there. After our nightly performance we would walk home, a forty-five minute walk as the public transport ceased at 11.30., so that we could save the taxi fare. I had to be at medical rounds at nine am, mandatory for all second year medical students. (How the hell did I ever get through Medicine ?)
Guests often bought us a drink and as I had to work in the morning we declined after the first drink. The tuxedo clad manager drew us aside. He was Swiss, he was dignified looking and he was mean.
"You can't decline when guests want to buy you a drink," he barked indignantly.
"Well, I have to go to work in the morning, you know I'm a medical student, and I can't turn up with a hang-over."
"You have to accept when a customer offers you a drink." he replied.
"Okay, you can just give us some ginger ale or soda in an appropriate glass and we can sip on that."
"Yes, I can do that."
"You'll have to give us the cost the customer pays for the drink, of course."
He looked aghast. "I'm not going to do that!" he said.
"Then we won't accept." A thought occurred to me. "If you won't give us the cash, then you can give it to us in cigarettes," I said., because I was always short of cigarette money. He agreed. For the next few months, for the first time in my life I always had enough cigarettes.
We carried on playing the Paradiso until the summer break, when we got a gig at a fancy hotel on the west coast of Ireland, in Waterville, Co Kerry, the site of the first transatlantic cable station.
A drummer friend who had his own small group was offered a summer season engagement at the Butler Arms Hotel, a pretty fancy establishment which many would consider 'Classy". He couldn't accept because of his day job.
" They asked me if I could suggest anyone, so I gave them your name." he informed me.
I was more than grateful. If we got this gig it might just cover my university fees and have a little left to go into the wedding fund.
Coincidentally, the Butler Arms Hotel, Waterville, Co. Kerry, (Google it, it’s still prospering !) was owned by the family of a classmate of mine at St. Andrews College. Most of the historic town of Waterville was owned by the same family. I didn't even think of mentioning that I knew a member of their family in my school days when I applied for the job. He was the most troublesome guy in the class who the teachers predicted would one day end up ‘sweeping the streets’. Instead he ended up owning Waterville.
I phoned the owner of the hotel, Billy H, applying for the job. The conversation went something like this:
"We'd like to apply for the summer season band job." I gave him a synopsis of our very limited musical curriculum vitae with appropriate embellishments.
" I'd like you to come down here for an interview with my mother!'
His mother?
We lived in Dublin, Waterville, Co. Kerry was four hundred miles away. In Ireland, in those days where distances were small, he might as well have asked us to come to Australia.
"We can't afford to come all the way to Kerry for an interview and not get the job!
" Don't worry," said Billy H. "If we don't hire you, we will meet all your expenses."
So, we adventurously packed our bags and took the train to Waterville, Co Kerry, to be approved (or not approved) by Billy's Mother!!
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