Painting Sean O’Leary

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‘Local Legends’ have been there for ages and they are still among us. You can find them in any community. In the city or village you live in, in the organization you work for or your sports club. Here’s the story of a very special one. His name was Sean O’Leary. I invite you to be fellow travellers on my discovery journey through his life.

PREFACE
Here’s to you

The famous writer J.M. Coetzee once wrote that future has no reality, that past is a creation and that there are countless versions of the past. If we collected all the versions of the past of one person, if we listened to all the stories connected to him. If we wrote it all down. Would we create a legend, a myth?

Stories can make the past coherent and they can make it coherent in countless individual ways. They tell us everything about our passions, drives, despairs, fears and happiness. The past is something that cannot be destroyed. It can only be lost. However, it will not be lost if Read more

Painting Sean O’Leary – Episode 5 – Sean on film, a shopkeeper, Caroline and Ella

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Before I continue, some recent news. Good news. In a comment on my last blog, by Don MacEachern, I learned that Sean must have visited Islay and stayed there in 1962 or 1963, earlier than I have mentioned before. Don had a Youtube movie to prove that and I love to share it with you. For me it was the first time I saw Sean moving. Goosebumps. Here it is: Sean at Bowmore on YouTube (Sean appears after 2’ 50”) For some Read more

Painting Sean O’Leary – Episode 4 – The Highland Wedding

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I looked at the list George Rhind had given to me. Some of the people already knew that someone was about to approach them. During a short morning walk along the northern coast I mused again. Why was I doing this? Why the interest in someone I had never met, of whom I did not even know if he really was worth the effort? The initial fascination with ‘a free spirit’ was still there, the idea of getting away from a bourgeois life was still attractive, travelling out of curiosity was still worthwhile. I decided that all of it was true, and more: it was without any doubt a challenge to find out if one person can have enough meaning to be remembered. It was not at all about ‘fame’, it was the mere fact that many of us human beings crave for immortality. I wanted to prove to the world that Sean O’Leary had meant enough to others not to be forgotten. However, by writing down the stories about him I would be erecting not only a monument for Sean but also for myself. By describing the development of a local legend I realize – and with no doubt hope – that some of his light will shine on me as well. It’s those selfish genes…

The first on my calling list was Roland Worthington-Eyres. It was early afternoon when I reached him on the phone. He was already informed about me and started telling right away.
“Sean O’Leary was not his real name. He was probably born in the south of Ireland. During WW II he took service in the Royal Navy. His brother, a Royal Navy pilot, died in a crash, maybe he was shot Read more

Painting Sean O’Leary – Episode 3 – At the Ballygrant Inn

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Before I returned to the Ballygrant Inn I decided to drive along the shore of Loch Indaal towards Port Charlotte. It was a beautiful evening and the warm yellow light of the setting sun illuminated the whites of the sheep and the white stucco on the houses to the right hand side of the narrow coastal road. Close to  Port Charlotte a small white lighthouse appeared in front of me, surrounded by the fresh and deep yellow of the broom in bloom. It was a painting by Edward Hopper come to life, the light was just right and so I got out of the car, grabbed my camera and climbed over a fence to give myself a better position. I took the photo I had had in mind and climbed back over the fence when a car stopped on the other side of the road. A tall man in his late fifties stepped out and almost immediately walked towards me, smiling. I returned the smile.
“I always want to take pictures of lighthouses with that kind of light.”
“Are you on vacation here?”
“Yes, but there’s another reason why I’m here. I’m trying to find out more about a man called Sean O’Leary.”
“Sean O’Leary, ay? I’ve photographed  Read more

The Dentist’s Uncle – by Josette Berg

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Once I met a dentist from a wealthy Antillian familiy. One of his uncle’s had withdrawn from daily life, I believe after a tragic incident. He had ascended a bold Curaçao mountain to stay there for the rest of his days with his German shepard dogs, living on whisky, dogfood and chocolate nutrition and writing the most beautiful novels. Sometimes someone would climb up the bush moutain for advice, insights or tax bills. Frequently these visitiors ended descending totally drunk and with bliss! I found this so fascinating, to choose this style of life, to go with the soul, the pen and the flow!
One of the most beautiful books I ever read was from his pen. It’s title was ‘The roar of morning’…..

Sean O’Leary – Episode 2 – An Islay Welcome

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The first thing you and your car encounter on Islay is the raised hand of the other driver when another car approaches. As if a friend passes. You almost immediately feel welcome, feel one of them, feel accepted. But for how long? For the time of your stay? Of course they know who is strange to the island and who is not. Sean was allowed to thrive. If I decided to stay here, would I be able to fit in, would they let me? What would it take?

A short walk in May from Ballygrant to Port Askaig. Strolling towards the Paps, the impressive mountainous landmarks of Jura on the other side of the sound. Somebody had told me that ‘pap’ means breast in Gaelic. I imagined a giant woman named Jura lying in the sea, waiting for me. I was curious how she would welcome me. On my way I passed a small loch and then a path leading to a lovely boathouse at an inlet, with an early swallow flying in and out. To the left and right  thick carpets of bluebells. Numerous brooms in the meadows, smelling like honey, looking  like giant yellow Brussels sprouts. And then before me, a heron, startled, stumbling into the bushes and getting stuck. He did not fly away, just stumbled. Sick or old? Even if I had known how to help the bird, I could not have reached it, the shrubs were too Read more

Poopdeck – by Bob Kanegis

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Lately I got a message from Bob Kanegis whom I had virtually met at the Reinvention Summit last year. He sent me one of his stories about a local legend in Alaska. You can find more of Bob’s stories  on www.storytellerscampfire.wordpress.com. Here’s Bob’s story of ‘Poopdeck’.

“I’ll begin with  one of my many memories of Poopdeck, my Alaskan pioneer and commercial fisherman friend who died some years back at the age of 97.
Poopdeck had just turned 70.  Along with other friends we were drinking bug juice and swapping yarns in his log cabin in Homer Alaska.  Bug Juice you wonder?  Poopdeck would love to explain- “Just think of the billions of those little yeast bugs that committed suicide to make this alcohol!”
We got to thinking that at 70 year old a man living on his own ought to have a telephone in case of an emergency. Poopdeck scoffed at the idea, but we were resolute.We offered to pay for the installation of the phone and all Read more

Sean O’Leary – Episode 1 – Sailing to Islay

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Yesterday I received an e-mail from Carl Reavey, the editor of the ‘Ileach’, the newspaper of Islay and Jura. He told me that Ruby Graham from the Ballygrant Inn had died in 2008. I felt ashamed that I had not kept in touch with the Graham family for the last two years. My sympathies go to all of them. Ruby has been a caring and warm host for me. She was an authentic and modest woman with a fine sense of humour and you shall meet her in the next episodes.

Sailing to islay

It’s a guess.
He stood at the bar of the MacBrayne ferry to Port Ellen, sipping a whisky and observing the other passengers. He obviously enjoyed the gazes of some of them, especially from the women. A young teacher was one of them. What she saw was a tall, well built and certainly handsome man wearing a saffron coloured kilt. The man had long hair and a virile beard, the colour of dried-up ginger. Proud eyes with a hint of mocking irony, which some could have interpreted as arrogance. If you had looked closer you might have noticed a twinkle of devilish humour in the corner of his eyes. All in all he must have Read more

Sean O’Leary – The first encounter

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I was sitting at a bistro table in Amsterdam Schiphol Airport, very much aware of my running nose, fighting an upcoming cold. Surrounding me was the neutral white noise one experiences when numerous languages are spoken simultaneously. I was preparing questions for conversations about a man who had called himself Sean O’Leary and I was contemplating. What on earth was I doing and – even more important – why was I doing this?

A few years earlier I had been travelling along the west coast of Scotland, digging for the origins of a Celtic legend. While having a pub dinner in the hamlet of Tayinloan – which lies opposite the small island of Gigha – I met two construction workers from Glasgow. I told them about the cause of my journey and in return they advertised convincingly the Isle of Islay. They Read more

Your local legend

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Your local legend is welcome!

My Local Legend

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My blogs will primarily concentrate on the story of Sean O’Leary. Maybe it wil lead to a book about him one day. As I have interviewed quite some people about him during an odd five years, I feel committed to share what I have discoverd. So, for a considerable part, this blog is dedicated to the people of the isles of Islay and Jura, the people of Strathpeffer, Kirkubright and Forgandenny, all in Scotland. To a friendly woman in New Zealand and above all to Sean’s nephew and brother-in-law who live in England. All of them kindly supporting a curious stranger with their memories of a memorable individual.

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