GUEST, Adam McNaughtan
I'd like to add glittering praise to the memory of Tam Kearney. Tam, as might be expected was a noted character even in his Glasgow days. We differed then, perhaps, in our approach to song; such was his mistrust of people who insisted on singing unaccompanied, that he sold me a banjo for five pounds. He was, however, always ready to give me a lift to my gigs and to take me along to his. A born communicator, he would engage his audiences with songs, jokes and stories-- perhaps including his own back-story.
I don't know whether it was Tam or his listeners who located the "hiring" of Bob Dylan in the Glasgow Folk Centre, but that was never the venue for a Dylan gig, and the bookings there were always handled by its full-time organiser, Drew Moyes, who must be credited with making it a "centre", featuring not only music gigs, but story-telling, inkle-weaving, instrumental tuition, talks by such as Willie Scott on making stick handles from horn, attempts at producing a magazine. For three or four years, Tam was one of a number of henchmen: he played, sang, compered and, spatula in hand, ruled the kitchen -- a role in which he will be recognised by friends from throughout the years. He parted company with Drew in another Glasgow tradition, a stairhead rammy, with Drew at the top of the stairs pouring wrath on Tam's head and Tam outdoing Drew in colourful invective from the street. In that three-year spell were sown the seeds that blossomed in Toronto.
Maybe somebody should ask Mr Dylan where it was that he made his Glasgow debut.
Tam, it's been good to know you,
Adam